WTF?

Separated at Birth?

2008-03-24T18:06:00.005-05:00

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick & his lover/partner in crime Christine Beatty

Separated at Birth?

2007-03-18T21:49:00.000-05:00

Kate Middleton and Lance Bass

Eiffel of Penis: A Fun New Game?

2006-10-13T13:41:00.000-05:00

First, some background information: My poor 19 year old daughter caught a glimpse of my husband's naughty bits while he was sleeping. She'd walked into our bedroom, slowly, to see if his feet were covered (if his FEET are covered, it's a pretty safe bet that his schwaangas are covered, too). Not this time. Poor kid is scarred for life.

Fast forward about 2 weeks: The kids and I are trying to remove boxes from the master bedroom while my husband was sleeping.

My son, 13, started chuckling and whispered, "This is just like that game 'Don't Wake Daddy.'"

My daughter didn't miss a beat, replying, "Yeah, but in THAT game, you DON'T get an eyeful of PENIS!"

Needless to say, we hightailed it outta there so we wouldn't wake daddy hehehehehe

My Computer is SCREWED

2006-09-29T17:48:00.000-05:00

I don't yet know what's wrong with it, but hope to have it fixed soon.

Guess I should use my "down" time to finish moving into our new house hehehe

Gotta love craigslist :D

2006-09-17T19:24:00.000-05:00

craigslist.org is handy for picking up cheap/free stuff, but this belongs in a world of its own:

M w/ male voices in my head, seeking F counterpart w/ female voices - m4w

25 y/o male, with the misfortune of hearing only male voices. Not a single woman upstairs. We make great conversation but can only take so much of each other, and none of us clean up. Ideally seeking my female counterpart in the mirror situation. Please have between 3 and 6 female voices (not counting THE ONE). Only people in control of their voices please, the last thing I need is someone who lets the lessers drive. If you respond to this please don't do so as one of your subs. I want THE ONES to match first and then we can slowly introduce our subs to eachother if it seems to work out. Prefer to meet around Motor Parkway in the region where it is south of the LIE. Please do not respond asking me if I'm the keymaster, because ha ha very funny I've heard that before. Yes I saw that movie too, thank you, you are very witty. OK! LEts do this. Motor Parkway, female voices.

P.S. Please meet a standard level of hygiene.

What do YOU think??

2006-09-13T21:28:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure I'm seein' the resemblance...

The Wrong Family was put down

2006-08-09T18:40:00.000-05:00

Zoo meerkats test negative for rabies: Five of the popular animals euthanized after girl, 9, is bitten

Unbelievable.

Blah, blah, blahhhhhh

2006-08-07T13:13:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the inactive blog lately. I have tons of shit to post but it seems as if there really aren't enough hours in the day (yeah, lame excuse, I know. So SUCK IT!)

I need to upload pictures of our new blind, deaf AND (as an added bonus) RETARDED cat. Sweet little guy is SERIOUSLY fucked up. No lie. His story can only be told WITH pictures, so you'll have to wait.

What's more fun than running into an old boyfriend?

2006-08-07T13:10:00.000-05:00

Finding out that in the intervening 31 years he:

a. Went to prison for 6 years
b. Rides a bicycle to work
c. Works at Taco Bell (and NOT in management)
d. All of the above

Poor guy was such a sweetie, but truly a lost soul. Seems like I was the only one who ever really cared about him. I recognized him in the drive-thru by the set of his mouth. If I'd seen him up close and without his glasses, I would have known him instantly by his piercing blue eyes. In addition to his troubles, the years haven't been kind to him. But I can't say they've been all that kind to MY fat ass either lol.

We chatted for a bit; he, stating with bravado, "I've had a good life." Me, trying not to look upon him with the pity I felt that he hadn't had a BETTER life. I can STILL read him like a book.

His downfall had always been his self-destructive behavior. Seems he'd get up to a certain level in life, blow it all up, and start all over again. Ad infinitum.

I hope he is on an upward swing now and wish him all the best.

Something COMPLETELY unoriginal for my 100th post!

2006-07-27T14:13:00.000-05:00

Just bizzy bizzy bizzy with all sorts of shit. I hope to be blogging more SOON.

For lack of anything interesting of my OWN to post, I proffer THIS: How NOT to act on J-Date

Talk amongst yourselves.

Can You Hear Me Now??

2006-07-03T08:55:00.000-05:00

I'm driving home from work this morning on some 2 lane roads. I am behind a truck, but we're not crawling along, so it's OK. It's nice & sunny and I am enjoying the relaxing drive.

Before I know it, some tail-gating asshole is right up on my ass. He actually starts leaning to the left in his seat, almost sticking his head out the driver's side window. Then he's riding the yellow center line, looking for opportunities to pass me & the truck. Problem is, he doesn't STOP riding the yellow line at any point while he is behind me. All I can think is, "I'm NOT gonna do anything to SAVE your dumb ass when you get into a head-on crash." He recklessly passes me and the truck, without much room from oncoming traffic. What a dick.

Several miles later, I find myself behind HIM at a traffic light. I notice what looks like a cell phone up against his right ear. I said to myself, "No wonder he's driving like such an asshole--he's talking on his cell phone!" Then he starts moving his head around, giving me a clear view of his head. When I noticed that he had a matched set, I realized NO he WASN'T on a cell. Those were his EARS. Holy Fucking Shit on a Stick.

Hippo Birdy 2 Ewe (me)

2006-06-30T12:32:00.000-05:00

It's mah birfday, it's mah birfday. Ahm gonna partay lahk it's mah birfday, drink Bacahdi lahk it's mah birfday...

This is what I have to look forward to today: a Chocolate fudge layer cake with REAL buttercream frosting. Nothing artificial. No preservatives. THREE types of REAL vanilla extract in the frosting, PLUS enough butter to clog the arteries of anyone within breathing space. Word.

The taste of this frosting is so different than anything I have ever experienced. It's almost like eating a stick of butter that has sugar whipped into it, but not too much. Reminds me of when I was little and got to lick the beaters when mom was making a cake :)

I'll post a picture of its beautiousness when I find the cable to my Treo.

What's in a Name? (part 2)

2006-06-05T12:00:00.000-05:00

I pity the children of celebrities. For with all of her weath and privelege, Shiloh Pitt will STILL be "Pile-O-Shit" to her uppity classmates. The booger-eater doesn't fall far from the tree.

FBI searches for Hoffa?

2006-05-28T16:03:00.000-05:00

I have a BETTER idea. Put Sears Home Improvement division on the case. I offer the following as my proof:

When my dad went into a nursing home in 1999, we had his mail forwarded to our house. All of the investment bankers found him. All of the credit card companies found him. All of the time share people found him. All of these people invited him to fancy dinners,or offered "free" movie tickets while seeking his "estate." I should mention that he retired from the fire department, so SERIOUSLY, how much of an "estate" could he have? Anyway.

In 2003, my husband and I bought a piece of land and have just completed building a house on it. We just have not yet forwarded any of our mail to this house. Oh, this house has an address. And a functional mailbox, too.

What is DOESN'T have is my father. See, he died in 1999. So, christ on a bike, how did Sears Home Improvement branch find him there?

A note to the FBI: forget looking for Hoffa. If you haven't found him in 31 years, I'm not sure you ever will. For a sure thing, call Sears Home Improvement. Provide Hoffa's last mailing address and I'm thinking that they'll find him in, say, 7 years or so.

Lost Wages

2006-05-27T12:51:00.000-05:00

You DON'T wanna know what happened in Vegas. It wasn't pretty. We came, we gambled, we won some and lost more. Well, at least I came home with some cash left. I put it out of sight after I won on the 2nd day. I didn't want to spend every cent I brought with me. I was a good girl. The best way for me to enjoy myself in Vegas is to just think of my money as "play money." If I start thinking about putting those 20's into the machines, I think it would make me SICK to think of it as real.

I didn't play blackjack this time; I was feeling too mentally slow. Those tables were moving quickly & I didn't want to look like the dumbass I am trying to add my cards to see how close I was to "21." They'd already be on the next hand by the time I figured that shit out.

I saw some young punk drop $1700 into a craps game. CRAPS is right, considering he didn't do too well. That was ANOTHER game that was moving too fast for me. Dice tossed, lot of yelling, chips moved around & repeat ad infititum. I just couldn't follow it. Bleh.

Poker? Well, let's just say I kick major ass at home on the computer, where I don't have to do anything without a prompt. I can't seem to keep the suits straight & Texas Hold-Em tables were always packed.

There was the usual gluttony (not just ours) at some nice buffets. Lets just say that I really love prime rib & baked ham & had it for 2 meals each day LOLOL. We had a CHEAP but wonderful steak dinner one night for $4.95. With what I dropped in that particular casino, I figured that fucking steak cost me about $100! Ahhh..but it was worth it.

We saw a couple of shows (comped): comedian George Wallace (he was ok; he's better on cable) and a musical tribute to the Coasters, Platters & Drifters (also just "ok"--glad I didn't have to pay for it).

People watching wasn't that exciting this time.

What's to say about a bunch of blue-hairs in scooters monopolizing 2 machines at a time? Try "Run into my fucking ankles again, and you'll WEAR that little basket as I shove the handlebars up your ass and take off with your key."

And for the dipshits who took their walkers onto the escalators and then got off too slowly? As we are all backed up on the escalator behind them, I wanted to scream "It's NOT a fucking elevator" where we could all just take our time waiting for them to exit. I almost started tackling some old bitches from behind as we all started piling up at the bottom.

Outside the casino was a beautiful young woman minding her own business. A group of 3 guys was walking toward her, leering. She held her head high, continuing through and past them. One asshole tried to grab her ass as she passed him but missed. He did, however, turn completely around as if he was going to follow her. Bobbing & weavinbg through the crowd, his drooling-fool ass didn't take his eyes off of her.

Biting his bottom lip, he tells his buddies, "Man, I'd hit that SO HARD..."

It was all I could do to keep my voice low as I said, "Yeah, as if YOU'D have a chance at THAT, asswipe."

I wasn't up for an assbeating, his OR mine hehehe

I'm Outta Here

2006-05-15T20:23:00.000-05:00

Fuck. I missed writing my Mother's Day post. I haven't REALLY been a slacker. Until now.

Hold down the fort, beyotches! I'm goin' to Las Vegas for the week. Wish me luck! But with that goddamned HEAT out there right now (100 degrees--FUCK--after 90, who really counts? I mean, it all feels the SAME to me at that point).

I just hope my fat-hot flashing ass + enormous quantities of alcohol don't have me blinking brighter than the red signs at the Chicken Ranch!

See you next week.

I Think Our Parents Were Trying to Kill Us

2006-05-06T15:57:00.000-05:00

No bike helmuts? The only kids who wore helmuts were the ones riding the short bus to school. Sure, we road our bikes (“look Ma! No hands!!”). We fell. We messed up our arms, legs, faces and sometimes teeth. But I don’t ever recall any of my acquaintances getting a head injury.

No shin pads or wrist guards? We roller skated. We didn’t roller blade. We had only those fucked-up $1.49 metal skates that were made up of 2 flat, open sections held together by a nut. There was a one-size-fits-all clamp that half-heartedly held your big and little toes in place, and an ankle strap that barely held the skates to your feet. Yeah, THESE were safe. And we were just stupid enough to hold onto a jump rope and let the bigger kids pull us behind their bikes.

Those skates would then get so hot they’d burn the rubber on the sides and soles of our canvas Keds tennis shoes, giving us a case of "hot foot."

It was a real treat to try skating down a rough sidewalk. You’d inevitably trip, one (or both) skates would flip off at the toes, sending you falling (face-first) with the skates still rattling around your ankles. Crying, with skates flapping, you ran home for some mercurochrome and a band-aid. We were too stupid to undo the ankle straps before running home.
Sometimes you opted to NOT get fixed up because the cure was worse than the injury. The orangey-red mercurochrome burned like hell. And when it came time to remove that band-aid, you’d lose more skin than your boo-boo took off in the first place. Those band-aids could hang on for a week, no problem.

As a curly-topped 3 year-old, I remember ironing my dad’s boxer shorts with the adult-sized ironing board lowered to my height and a miniature iron. It was a real iron. I never got burned. I remember getting the SHIT shocked out of my hand as I plugged it in, but I never burned myself. The electrical cords were thick, braided & rope-like. If they were frayed, you got zapped. Hell, I didn't know that. But my parents did, I'm sure. Hmmmm...

My greatest thrill in ironing the boxers was using spray starch. I loved the scent of Niagara Spray Starch. Needing two hands to work the can, I’d practically soak the shorts & then iron them perfectly. In later years, my mom told me how she and my dad would laugh because I had ironed the all the flys shut. Dishtowels and handkerchiefs were my other specialties.

Once upon a time someone came up with the brilliant idea of “Mr. Potato Head,” using real potatoes. Yeah, yeah, I know I’m old. I vividly remember the exceptionally sharp and pointy accessories that came in the kit. After all, they had to be sharp and pointy enough to make it into the raw potatoes. Those were some lean years and you didn’t want to get caught wasting food. You ended up having to use the same potato over & over again. It would look disgusting as the potato starch leaked out of the holes & turned black. We also used green peppers. Mom would just about shit herself when we did that.

I remember an especially unpleasant encounter with one of those sharp, pointy pieces. It seems that when cleaning up after playing, I’d missed one sneaky piece. I don’t recall which piece it was, but that sumbitch went right into the bottom of my foot. I hopped over to my mother, blood dripping, and she pulled it out. Mercurochrome & a band-aid; No trip to the ER. But we never saw Mr. Potato Head again. I got an extra punch from my older brother for that one. Fucker.

Ew. Just. Ewww

2006-05-06T00:43:00.000-05:00

This is gross and disgusting and involves a medical procedure. If you are squeamish, this AIN'T the post to be readin'. You'll want to be coming back another day, mmkay?

When I worked for a general surgeon, I assisted her with in-office procedures (biopsies and such). One afternoon, a woman came in needing a cyst on her back evaluated. The doc determined that it needed to be sliced & emptied.

The fucker was HUGE. It's size & shape made it resemble the top 1/4 inch of a golf ball. We both knew that it was gonna have a LOT of shit in it. Shit that would be coming OUT once she sliced into it. We prepped the area & as the doc was injecting local anesthetic around it, it blew. It BLEW. I ducked, still leaving my arm & hand holding the gauze above the patient.

There was such a buildup of pressure around that cyst, but I had NO idea that it would spurt out just from having the area NEXT to it pricked with a needle. Pus squirted over the doc's shoulder. I frantically tried to block it with sterile gauze. But the best was yet to come.

As she poked the tip of the scalpel blade into it, she unleashed the farthest eruption of pus I had never seen. Resembling ricotta cheese, it shot out in multiple directions. I ducked, hand raised like I was in school. The doc did not. She never missed a beat. Her dress bore the brunt of it, along with a framed Monet print on the wall behind her, and the lenses on her glasses (one side). Once the initial explosions were over, the rest was less disorderly. I stood upright and continued assisting her.

In retrospect, I did NOTlook or sound professional. I remember yelping a little as I ducked, and then alternately making "ewwww" sounds and chuckling as I bobbed and weaved like a boxer trying not to get my ass kicked by pus. But I was lucky; at least I only ended up with a spot of it on my scrub top. I can handle a lot of things well, but extremely large quantities of pus is NOT on that list.

In addition to getting the pus out, it was necessary for her to actually remove the wall of the cyst so that it wouldn't come back. Now THAT was a freaky looking thing. She reached her tweezers in there & pulled out what looked like a deflated red balloon.

At this time, I would like to thank Certifiable Princess for the inspiration for this post.

Corrupting Young Minds Since 1987

2006-04-22T20:07:00.000-05:00

I really need to shut up when I am in the car with my impressionable Schmancer. While running errands today, we spotted a brand new Corvette driven by a well-dressed young man. The personalized license plate said "Eduardo."

Schmancer (sarcastically): "Do you think that his name is 'Eduardo'?"

Me (not so sarcastically): "I think perhaps he is Eduardo's BITCH."

Laughter ensued.

I then shook my head and realized that I really, REALLY need to keep my mouth shut.

Does That Thing Have a Hemi?

2006-04-21T19:27:00.000-05:00

While driving home from White Castle this evening with Schmancer, the conversation went something like this:

Me (Driving the speed limit in a well-patrolled area): Man, that Dodge truck is riding my ass. I bet he is gonna fly past us in a sec.

Schmancer: Yeah, here he comes. Watch, now he's gonna weave around that car next to us.

About 60 seconds later, we see him stopped 2 lanes over sitting at a red light. Schmancer & I look at each other & laugh.

Me: Looks like he wasted a shitload of gas racing to a red light.

Schmancer (laughing): I guess that makes us Karmatologists.

We honked & waved at him as we passed. I am SUCH an asshole, and I am teaching my children well. Hehehe

:)

What's in a name?

2006-04-19T10:08:00.000-05:00

So "the" Scientology spawn has arrived. I can't tell you how incredibly SAD I feel for Katie Holmes. I think she is in waaaaaaay over her head. Not with motherhood, but with her baby daddy--He Who Shall Not Be Named.

I can't escape the feeling that, while she should be overjoyed at her baby's arrival, there is a cloud hanging over her. WIll this baby truly ever be her own? I dunno. And will the DNA results become public that this is NOT that particular Scientologist's genetic match? Time will tell.

As for the baby's name? Suri is short for "Surreal," which this whole thing is.

A sweet tale, just in time for Easter

2006-04-13T16:00:00.000-05:00

No, REALLY! My sarcastic ass is taking a brief hiatus from my assholity during this holy time. My twisted views and foul language shall return soon.

Deetsie was a sweet little one (yeah, Deets, I said WAS. Ok, she still is). Because of rain, I decided to hide the Easter eggs in our family room. Knowing how gross a lost egg would get within days, I made sure I counted them correctly and hid them easily.

Imagine my surprise when Deetsie started counting in her 2 year old voice and she surpassed the number of hidden eggs. I couldn't help but laugh when she remarked with delight, " The eeter bunny leff me twelb eggs anna GOFFBAW!"

She had found a bright orange golf ball under the couch in her quest for eggs. Guess I should have cleaned a bit better :D

Happy Eeter, Happy Pathover.

Trine to Compeet Wif Mah Frens

2006-03-28T12:07:00.000-05:00

I wish I had a pet that would allow me to dress it up and then photograph it for all the world to see. But I don't. My cats are bitches like that. Come to think of it, so are my kids. They outgrew me long ago. Heh.

So, I offer you the next best thing:

Look, ma! I'ma wanna be a pink poodle for Halloween!!

This is what happens when you let me loose in the costume aisle of Meijer while dorm-stuff shopping for Deetsie. The only one brave enough to stick around and photograph the evidence was Schmancer. Deetsie and her BF scattered. Sorry for the shitty-ass quality, but it's from my camera phone (the very same one which shall be used to immortalize the evil Larchetta).

Wait until I start posting the "dress up" pics I have of dem keets o mine.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

P.S. I think I can give Jessa a run for her money, don't you?

The Happiest Place to Work!

2006-03-26T22:33:00.000-05:00

That is what the "Now Hiring" sign in our local Taco Bell proclaimed. Perhaps somebody should have mentioned that to Larchetta. Names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. Hell to the no!

As my son and I walked up to the counter (no waiting! Woot!), Larchetta gave us the stink-eye. It was to be her last eye contact with us. She had perfected the art of seeing beyond someone by looking off into the distance over their shoulder lonnnnnng before we ever got there.

Sucking something out of her teeth, she slowly ambled over to her register, all the while looking off into the distance. She was watching traffic, squirrels frolicking, birds shitting on the light pole. She never said a word. No "Welcome to Taco Bell. Can I take your order?" No "whutchoowant?" No "whutdaFUCKyouwant?" No "Did you know there's a Mack Donald's right next door?"

Being the civil human being that I am, I was the one who said "Hi." Ooooo, chilly. No response. So, of course, I thought I'd fuck with her.

"Tell me about the Steak Grilled Stuffed Burrito," I said to her. I KNOW she thought I was smoking crack. I mean, who goes to Taco Bell & asks about that shit? Doesn't everybody who eats there KNOW what's on the menu? Maybe everyone but US lol.

"Whutchoo mean TELL you 'bout it?" still looking out the window, but over my OTHER shoulder this time. Still sucking her teeth. Yuck.

"What does it have in it besides steak?"

"ricebeansbajasauceredsauce" Larchetta stated in a fast monotone as she rolled her eyes. She left out a few ingredients, but I got the basic idea. What an asshole.

"I'll have one with NO sauce."

Making that "tsk" sound with her tongue was a nice touch before she asked, "WHUT no sauce? No RATE sauce, no BaaaaHaaaaa sauce...?"

"NO SAUCE at all," I replied

I paid her, making sure that I touched her hand with my hand. I am not one of those people who are afraid to touch other ethnicities. It used to make me chuckle when I worked retail in the racist '70's when other ethnicities would touch MY hand thinking that I was gonna freak out hehehe.

She sullenly gave me the change that the register told her too, bills on the bottom and change unceremoniously dumped on top. Except that some of the coins fell out of her hand onto the counter. I still held my hand out to receive the rest. Fuck THAT if she thinks I was gonna scrape it off of the counter. Sheesh. Lazy Ass.

We eventually got our food and decided to eat it there. Overhead, we heard Britney Spears' song "Lucky." My son & I were still watching Larchetta using her excellent customer service skills. I started cracking up when I said to him, " 'syo lucky day! You gonna be onna innanet! Smile fo mah cam'ra phone." Then I realized I didn't HAVE my fucking camera phone WITH me. Shit.

She left shortly thereafter. I will go back sometime and sneak her picture. The expression on her face was SO priceless.

This reminded my of something one of my favorite comedians said:

"There's no shame in having an every day job. All workers of all levels are needed to make this society function properly. We are all fundamental pieces of the puzzle and are an important part of the whole. But whatever it is, do 'your' job well. It's not my fault you have 'your' job. If you don't like 'your' job, then change it by getting some better skills. Until then, Shut the Fuck Up and get my burger! And I'd like that with a smile. - Carlos Mencia

My Reasons for Being a Blog Slacker

2006-03-24T22:14:00.000-05:00

Painting, painting and MORE painting.
Yes, my foyer is 2 different colors.
3 different colors visible from this area.

And my favorite room? My laundry room!