Thursday, August 28, 2014

I'M NOT FOND OF SPIDERS

Yesterday I saw a HUGE spider web on the porch but no spider. It was beautiful. I destroyed it.

This afternoon in the very same place I see the biggest spider I have ever seen spinning another web.I could not believe how fast this spider was. I'm pretty sure it was just pissed off that I destroyed it's previous web and it had to start all over.

I watched for a couple of minutes and then remembered my spider bite and decided this spider must die.

I wasn't about to knock it down because I had sandals on and I didn't want it to run over my foot. I had no bug spray so the first thing I found to grab was Windex. I sprayed and sprayed.Stupid spider kept on spinning it's web. So I went back in the house and found some dog flea spray.

I drenched that spider.I think I used about half a bottle and I still don't think it died. But the spray has a really nice scent so somewhere there's a really huge shiny spider that smells great and has no fleas and is probably really pissed off. I destroyed that web too.

The body of the spider's body was the size of a quarter. But it wasn't a wolf spider just a really big one.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

SATURDAY MORNING IN THE HOOD

DPCBG has been clean 8 days.

She asks for a lot more favors when she's not on drugs. 

Yesterday morning we were awakened to the neighbors 2 houses down fighting. I have no idea who they are, where they came from, they may be new. I can't see their house because it's on my side of the street and there's only a house between us. 

So here come 3 police cars, I'm outside on the porch, DPCBG is out on her porch and the nice Mexican lady next to DPCBG is also out on her porch. She's the lady that DPCBG was mean to and I had to straighten DPCBG out because I love Mexican people and have Mexican family members. They are nice to each other now.

Anyway, police are everywhere and after so many times you just become immune and it's not fun to watch anymore but these were new so I had to check it out. Boring. Daytime officers are usually the old ones anyway.

DPCBG knows them by name O.O and says, "Hello Officer blah blah."

Since a lot of her former employment was on 10th Street I assumed that's how she knew him.

So I had to keep watching. After the melee subsided Officer Blah Blah came over and talked to DPCBG a couple of minutes, SHAKES HER HAND and leaves.

Since DPCBG was bringing a couple of loads of her laundry over because her water was turned off again I asked what was up with that. Cops usually aren't big on hand shaking and not one time have they shook MY hand and I'M the one giving them helpful hints. Hmmmph.

Apparently she told him about her being clean for 8 days and he was proud of her. I almost freaking started crying. I guess he arranged for her to talk to the middle schoolers one time, ALL of them in the auditorium about her childhood and how she wasn't allowed to go to school and how it led to drugs and prostitution.

 

He asked her to consider doing that again and she asked me if I would go with her. I said ok even though middle schoolers scare me.

DPCBG had the worst childhood of anyone I've ever known ever. Had a baby at 13 by her stepfather, that her mother is STILL with, they used to move into houses that had been boarded up, that's called bandit housing and somehow you get the utilities on I'm not sure how but she had to stay home and watch for the police instead of going to school and her mother was walking the streets. Her sisters were allowed to go to school.

One of her sisters would come over to her house and bully her and take her things. I put an end to that and it only took one time of telling her what was up.

Saturday morning in the hood.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

SOCIAL SECURITY OFFICE MADNESS

I just got back from the Social Security office ... AGAIN.

If I knew how to tie a noose, had some rope, and had a high place to jump from ...

This may be a little lengthy but that's never stopped me before.

So as I start out I see 3 police cars on 10th St in front of and blocking something in the road. But you can still get through. At first I thought it may have been a bomb scare but people were standing around there so I wondered what the hell was wrong with the police and why don't they make people stay away? As I get closer, I see what no animal lover wants to see, a small dog had been hit and was dead in the middle of the street and the police were making sure no one else ran over him while they waited for animal control to pick it up I presume. Thank you IMPD for proving you aren't always assholes in my neighborhood.

I get to the SS office, take my number and sit down. Here comes a lady with 2 adult daughters who are obviously mentally challenged and they sit beside me. I'm excited because there's someone I can communicate with. So the girls and I are talking and looking at babies while I help their mother fill out some forms because she can't see very well. We're having fun, getting along until a blind guy walks in with his seeing eye dog.

All hell breaks out. One of the girls gets up and starts kicking the dog and screaming. The blind guy gets PISSED, he can't see that the girls are mentally challenged and he starts yelling at them and tells them to leave the dog alone he's already eaten today and has no interest in them. I'm trying to explain to the girls that the guy is blind and the dog helps him not get hit by a car when he's walking. They're content with that explanation and want to pet the dog then. Blind guy is still obviously pissed so I help him find a seat away from us and try to explain to the girls why they can't pet the dog and tell him what's up. The dog BTW was a beautiful blond Labrador with snow boots on. I wanted to pet that dog sooooo bad but I knew I couldn't.

The SS office is packed full and not one ... single ... person tried to help.

So I get my business done about the same time as the blind guy and he's standing in the hallway and do you think anyone tried to help him to the elevator?

No. So I go to help and I don't know how to direct a blind person so he straightened me out and took my arm because I was basically turning in circles.

The end.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

OUT, OUT OUT!!!!

My little dog Mogwai died today...

As I was holding him. He had been really sick but I had convinced myself that he was improving. 

No.

Whenever I would ask the dogs if they wanted to go out Mogwai would start jumping and turning around in circles barking , "out, out, out."

And the one foot handstand pee, he was so little that sometimes when he'd lift his leg his other back leg went up too and he'd balance on just the front one leg. I don't know how he didn't pee on his face. Should have gotten a picture of that. 

He also ran away screaming if a leaf blew by him. 

It's too quiet.


I miss him.

Thursday, December 01, 2011

DON'T BUY A DYSON IT DOESN'T SUCK

I am notoriously hard on my appliances. I admit that I don't pre-rinse my dishes, I expect my washer to wash the fourteen pairs of jeans it claimed to be able to wash in a single load, and I expect my vacuum to pick up any number of dog and cat toys without losing suction. 

Based on the latter of the appliance criteria, I bought myself a Dyson. It's purple. A purple vacuum, people. It's just doesn't get any sassier. And I felt very sassy with my Dyson for about six months. I sucked up a few dog cookies that got terribly lodged in my Dyson and you know what? It lost suction. The Dyson dude lies. 

Of course I dislodged the cookies, but then it tipped over an this little plastic piece on the side cracked. There are lots of little pieces on a Dyson that easily get knocked out of place and then guess what? It loses suction. The Dyson dude kinda pisses me off now.

Well, the other day my Dyson began making some alarming noises. Very alarming noises that resulted in my dogs running away and hiding under the bed. Now the Dyson had REALLY lost suction. 

So I take my $600 Dyson to the vacuum repair shop where I have just paid $122 to get a new clutch and new bearings put in my $600 vacuum. The man says that Dyson vacuums aren't that great and guess what. Over time, they lose suction. And the clutches go out and the bearings get stripped.

Vacuum's have clutches? 

Yeah, they do. And they cost one hundred and twenty two dollars. One hundred and twenty two. 1-2-2 dollars. For a vacuum clutch.

 The repair guy tries to sell me a new vacuum. The kind they use in hotels and hospitals that never break and suck up everything. It costs seven hundred and sixty two dollars. 7-6-2. 

Does it have a clutch? I ask. 

Yes, he says. But it will last you for 25 years.

Funny, that's what they said about my Dyson.

 From this day forward, I hereby refuse to pay over one hundred and fifty dollars for something that will suck stuff.

Or not.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

THE "IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME," LETTER

Please feel free to copy and use at your discretion.

Dear [their name],

By now, you must realize that I am gone, and that I am not coming back.

Don't feel responsible-it's not you, it's me. My [busy career / expensive drug habit / intense racquetball schedule / fascination with on-line pornography ] prevents me from committing to a serious relationship.

Besides, you deserve better. You deserve someone who appreciates all of your most special qualities, especially the cute way you [ leave your toenail clippings on the couch / sing along when you don't know the lyrics / feign naivete when I suggest you do laundry / scarf down two pints of Ben & Jerry's while watching Ally McBeal reruns ].

Even though we're no longer together, we'll always have our memories. I'll never forget the time you [asked me to pull your finger / made me lie about my religion to your parents / brought home a bucket of KFC on my birthday ]!

They say that time heals all wounds, and I hope that soon you will be able to [love again / like again / speak my name without sobbing / speak coherently to another person of the opposite gender ]. 

When this time comes, I hope that we will be [good friends / fake phony superficial friends / in different states / as far apart as humanly possible ].

Love Always, / Love, / Warm regards, / Fondly, / Adios, / Fuck off,

[Your Name]

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

YOU CAN'T UN-FRY THINGS

I wish I could un-cook things.  Once it's past that golden crispy stage, it's doomed forever. 

You can't un-fry things, Jerri.

Even when they're perfectly fried, somebody's always gotta go and ruin mine by eating theirs with ketchup, which may as well be poop, because I'm not touching it and can barely stand to watch people eat it.  That's not a tomato, I don't give a shit what Heinz says, they lie and probably hate Jews. 

Ketchup is the rotten poop that falls through the cages and lands at the bottom and gets collected to be served to you at Steak n Shake in individually-sized packets for your "convenience", even when you didn't ask for it because you know that the food heats up the packets and the ketchup vapors taint everything else in the bag, as well as the car and the rest of the universe, which includes the air surrounding my own precious ketchupless onion rings. 

But no one will listen to me. 

Don't even get me started on pre-made chocolate milk.  That's bloody cow juice in disguise from when their udders start to crack and bleed from those lovely mechanical milking devices.  Think about that next time your chocolate Chugs is dribbling down your chin. 

Chickens.  Oh my GOD, chickens are filthy creatures.  But I figure the filth gets plucked and skinned off and bled out long before making its delicious way into the Fry Daddy. 

Don't get me wrong, I love eating things that once had a face and all their byproducts, but I don't put anything in my mouth without rinsing it off and smelling it first, especially when I know where it came from. 

You can't wash ketchup.  And you can't un-fry things. 

Warmest Regards, 

Shrimp Tempura

Saturday, January 29, 2011

I HAVE POPEYE ISSUES



So I've been watching the Popeye DVD set again that I got a while ago. It's all the Fleischer Black and White Popeye cartoons from 1933-1938, along with two of the lengthier color cartoons from the period. It's a great set, and I'm having a blast chipping away at it a few cartoons at the time (you really shouldn't watch more than two or three Popeye cartoons in one sitting, because they all tend to blend together). I have a few observations, and a few questions: 

Popeye is kind of an asshole in these early shorts. Almost every cartoon I've seen so far opens with him sailing somewhere, riding on a boat or a whale or a shark or whatever, singing his theme song. The dude has a theme song which he sings himself. I should do that, just make up my own theme song and sing it wherever I go. Usually Popeye is standing at the bow of a boat, with Olive Oyl in the rear doing all the rowing. So, giant ego and abusive boyfriend. He also walks right past a cop being held up by a robber in one cartoon. 

He's also ugly. I don't mean that "Cute-Ugly" that he is in the 1950s cartoons, with his twinkling eye and spotless white sailor suit. No, this Popeye looks like someone backed over his face with a garbage truck, and then dumped the garbage on it. 

He's quick to scrap in these. It doesn't take much for Popeye to start swinging those bloated forearms at some hapless schmuck. And the spinach is always a last resort. Popeye fights until he starts losing, then he eats the spinach, so he's sort of an early steroid case who cheats whenever he's in a slump. And he sometimes starts the fights himself. When he was trying to keep it quiet so this baby (Swee Pea, I believe, although not named in the cartoon) would sleep and not bust out bawling, he pretty much beat the shit out of the entire town he was in. He even sent a punch through the radio lines and out of the microphone into the face of a guy singing. 

You know what? Fuck Olive Oyl. She's clearly Popeye's gal in these first cartoons (later cartoons would almost always center around Popeye and Bluto/Brutus competing for her anorexic charms), but she's quick to dump him for some other dude. Or she'll lead on that stumblebum Bluto for a while, and then when he gives in to his natural impulses she'll start screaming for Popeye, who like an idiot always comes running even though she basically just told him to go fuck himself not two minutes before. 

Am I the only one who feels a little bit sorry for Bluto? I mean, he always - ALWAYS - gets the living crap kicked out of him by Popeye, and most of the time it's because Olive Oyl was just using him to make Popeye jealous. He takes it too far, sure, and he never knows when to just leave shit alone, but he's not totally at fault here. Maybe Popeye should be eating some spinach and beating the crap out of Olive Oyl instead for causing all that trouble. 

And why is every dude so attracted to Olive Oyl? She's vain, and mean, and jealous, and conniving, and petty, and pretty much a total bitch to everyone she meets - oh, okay, I get it now. 

Never mind. So Olive Oyl can suck a dick. Although...considering Popeye makes her row the boat everywhere, maybe I am being too harsh. 

Okay, so Popeye eats the spinach and then he gets strong enough to black the world's eyes. Why doesn't he just eat the spinach all the time? I know that if I found out spinach gave me superpowers I'd be chewing a mouthful every waking moment. 

"Look, there's that weird chick with the spinach always stuck in her teeth. No, wait, don't look. If she sees us staring she'll come over here and knock our faces through the back of our heads." At the very least, why doesn't Popeye eat the spinach at the start of the fight and just get it over with? All Popeye paths lead to the spinach eventually, so why not take the shortcut? 

And what the hell is up with Wimpy? Where did he come from? Why is he always hungry? Does he have a tapeworm or some alien parasite in there which can only feed on hamburgers and is constantly leeching away all the nutrients deposited in Wimpy's bulging stomach? I would totally watch that cartoon.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

MECCA HINEY HO

A conversation I overheard today between a woman and her daughter (?) who looked to be about 5-ish:
  
Mom:  What did she call you?!? 

Little girl:  She called me an asshole! 

Mom (irritated):  But what did you call her? 

Little girl:  A faggot...? 

Sugar and spice! 

You know what would be an awesome job?

A meteorologist. 

You know what the requirements are? 

Jack shit. 

You know how accurate you have to be?

Not at ALL. 

Just look up at the sky and make up stories about "fronts" and use phrases like "slightly scattered", then change your story during one of those weather breaks mixed in with the soap operas after it's already well into the afternoon. 

Pretend like you were never wrong. 

Just say there's a "chance" of rain everyday, that covers your ass all season. So you'd basically get paid to run your mouth about things you can't control.

Sorry, it's just that I have a problem with the weather forecast being one thing at 1:11 in the morning but totally different when I wake up.  Just figure it out or shut up and stop pretending like you know.

Although, that Angela Buchman is pretty hot, even when she's lying through her perfect WISH-TV teeth.  She can tell me weather lies anytime...

Friday, December 03, 2010

"SOMETHING'S UP" SAID THE CATS ...

So yeah Thanksgiving is over. I almost made it through with no major fuck ups.

Almost.

So my sisters, Mom, Dad and assorted family members are all sitting around after eating getting tired, nodding off etc...

And one of my sisters (number #4) asks me what the drug was in Turkey. 

Since I'm really not paying much attention I thought she was talking about the COUNTRY.

I'm thinking she's asking an educational question so I say...

"I believe the major drug is opium." 


"Which of course is what heroin/morphine are made from."

"Also I've heard there is some great hash there as well."

Then I noticed everyone is looking at me with a very puzzled look on their faces. 

Sister number #4: "No Frankie, we meant turkey the BIRD, not the country."

Me: "Oh, then that would be tryptophan."

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

THE COKER CLAN AND THE MURDER OF JIM CHURCHMAN

According to the Arkansas Gazette, September 20, 1849, there was an argument during or following a card game and John Coker stabbed Jim Churchman in the breast. The argument was over two dimes. 

When Marion County sheriff Billy Brown tried to arrest John Coker, Randolph Coker killed Brown, Sept 1849. The two Coker boys were chained together in the Yellville jail, but someone entered the cell, cut the chain, and the Cokers made their escape. John and Randolph were brothers and sons of Joseph Coker. The next year, Jim Churchman's brother, William, married his brother's widow, Abigail Coker. During all this, Abbie gave birth to a daughter, Nancy Churchman.  It is not certain which Churchman brother was the father.  Most likely Jim was Nancy's daddy.

Randolph Coker fled to Indian Territory where he was later killed, supposedly by indians. It took fifteen years but he finally got his just desserts. The following article is from the Oklahoma Historical Society. " Murdering of Randolph Coker in 1864. The party that killed Randolph Coker appears to have been Kickapoo, or Kickapoo and Shawnee. The Creeks who buried him reported his hand and face both scapled and one of the arms gone. The Kickapoo were to a certain extent cannibals and the arm and hand fit with their actions." I don't know if this was maligning the Kickapoo. Apparently John Coker's later life was as normal as could be expected in that time period.

The Coker's are my ancestors. 

Sunday, September 19, 2010

FOR MY LOVE, GEORGE MICHAEL


All these years I'd been writing my proclamations of love on MySpace, desperate and thinking you really were reading them and just ignoring me, like you do on the street when I "happen" to be in the neighborhood. But now I realize that all this time you were where the young boys are, my dearest. Facebook.

I won't bother repeating what I've already publicly said on Myspace, as it's already been published in four languages. Not my exact messages of love of course, I mean the court proceedings that always seem to follow. God I love how you prosecute me every single time. It's like you enjoy seeing me at court. The way you glare and snarl at me all intensely and say "Keep that THING away from me!", it makes me so hot my love.

"Gay" - it's such a loose term. Aren't all noodles straight until you put them in hot water? Let's not mess up what we have with semantics and labels and those silly charges with you and that cop in the restroom and the childish restraining orders that never seem to keep me far from your bushes, peering in on your beautiful life, licking all your utensils and rubbing everything within sight on my boobs while you're gone...

There's a statute of limitations on breaking and entering and straddling all your pillows but there's no statute of limitations on my love for you! One day you are going to see that all these gay guys are going to do is make you happy. And really, is that any way for a man to live? Ask yourself this, and then call me. At the very least I can teach you how to stop getting caught with pot! I mean, HELLO. How old are we George?

Friday, May 14, 2010

HOW TO SURVIVE IF YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO SOMEONE WHOSE NAME YOU DON'T REMEMBER

At Their Place

1. Do not panic. Evidence of your partner’s name exists somewhere nearby. Your task will be to find it before he/she awakens, or before he/she starts any sort of meaningful conversation.

2. Get up and go to the bathroom. The bathroom is a normal place to visit first thing in the morning, and it is also a place where you might discover his/her name.

3. Look through the medicine cabinet for prescription medicines with his/her name on the label.

4. Sort through magazines, looking for subscription labels with his/her name and address.

5. Go through a wastebasket to find discarded junk mail addressed to him/her.

6. Return to the bedroom. If he/she is awake, ask him/her to make coffee for you. Use the time alone to search the bedroom for evidence. Look for: wallet, checkbook, ID or name bracelet, photo album, scrapbook, business cards (a stack of cards, not just one), or luggage labels. If he/she is sleeping, look for these and other items throughout the house.

Be Aware

Try to find at least two items with the same name to be certain that you have identified him/her, unless the name on one item rings a bell.

At Your Place

1. Use terms of endearment when addressing him/her. Do not guess at his/her name. Use acceptable terms of endearment:

* Honey/Sweetie/Cutie

* Darling/Baby/Sugar

* Beautiful/Sexy/Gorgeous

2. Unless you are certain you have ample time, do not go through his/her belongings. If your partner is showering, you can count on having at least a few minutes of privacy to search through his/her belongings. Otherwise, do not risk it—it would be far more embarrassing to be caught searching through his/her possessions than to admit you cannot remember his/her name. (He/She may be in the same predicament.)

3. Ask leading questions while making small talk. Fishing for information is risky and can backfire by calling attention to what you are trying to do. However, if you feel you can pull it off, try to trick him/her into revealing her name:

* While getting dressed, pull out your own ID and ask him/her if he/she thinks that your hair is better now or in the picture. Laugh about how silly you used to look. Ask if he/she likes the picture on his/her license. (He/She may think that you are checking his/her age.)

* Ask him/her if he/she ever had a nickname. He/She might say, “No, just [Name].”* Ask him/her how he/she got his/her name.

4. As he/she is leaving, give him/her your business card and ask for his/hers. If he/she does not have a business card, ask him/her to write his/her vital information on yours. Tell him/her you may want to send him/her a little surprise. Do not forget to send something later in the week and make sure that you spell his/her name correctly.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

A COMPLETE GUIDE TO THE WALK OF SHAME

We've all been there: the day after unplanned sex. Whether you’re gearing to get the hell out of there as soon as humanly possible, need to make the inevitable trek home after an amazing morningtime fuckfest, or just need to head to brunch and slam down a few bloody marys to take away the horrible, horrible pounding in your head… you’re gonna need to go outside at some point… in the potentially night-based selection of clothing you wore last night.

Well, that’s why I’m here: to help throw your broke, drunken, slutty ass a fucking bone. No pun intended.
Before you go out on the town….

1. Try your hardest to stick an extra shirt and/or leggings or skirt in your purse. If you’re not carrying a purse, try & stick it in your coat or jacket, if possible. If it’s summer, you can maybe try stuffing a small tank somewhere, or you can wear a tank under a different shirt the night before.

2. Always bring gum

3. Never wear fake eyelashes or glitter. EVER. There is no conceivable reason anyone over the age of 16 should be wearing glitter anyway. Unless you’re a clown. In which case, ew, you people make me sick.

It’s too late, and you didn’t prepare in the slightest…

1. If you’re wearing a weird fancy & relatively thin layer on top of a tank, if you don’t mind it getting either wrinkled a little, you can try fashioning one of them into a belt or hairtie. Keep in mind, this can go horribly awry depending on the thickness and texture, so if you can, try it on before you go anywhere.

2. Pull a Kate Moss. If you’re wearing a long dress & it rips, make it a minidress and work it. If it’s from Forever 21 or H&M, you can just rip it yourself. Trust me, it’ll probably be the last time you can ever wear it anyway, rip or no rip.

3. In the summer, flip flops are fairly inexpensive and comfortable footwear. Buying these at your nearest opportunity can be a hell of a less price to pay than making the trek in heels you’ve probably injured yourself trying to walk in, in the first place. As a general rule on high heels– if you don’t remember feeling pain the night before, you’re sure as hell going to feel it now.

4. Applying a new layer of mascara can freshen up your face overall, except if your face is already smeared with old mascara, in which case, wash that face off your head, bitch!

5. If possible, borrow a shirt from the person you’ve diddled. Sometime is can be all you need to look normal. Plus, they really didn’t need that shirt anyway…

Happy slutting!

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

...

I think I grossly misuse ellipses (...). I love them and use them for... Drama. I think it makes me sound a little like Captain James T. Kirk.

And those of you that know me know that as a child I used to fantasize that I would co pilot the USS Enterprise with the Captain. I would imagine myself on the bridge... In my Easter dress.

See how that works???

It's... Dramatic and... Mysterious. Sometimes... Funny. It's the equivalent of saying wait for it... Wait for it.

No, I'm not medicated...

Ok, well maybe just a little.

XOX

You may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.
~ Mr. Spock ~

Monday, March 30, 2009

I DON'T EVEN LIKE HAMSTERS

Last night I had a dream that I was out shopping at thrift stores with a hamster in the pocket of this too big of a man's coat I was wearing?

I kept trying to show everyone my hamster but they were afraid because they thought it was a rat.

I kept reassuring the hamster/rat that everything was OK because his feelings were hurt that no one wanted to pet or play with him but that I really loved him and that was all that mattered.

Then I went home with my thrifty purchases and put the coat on the chair, sat down without thinking (I may have been under the influence of marijuana) and squished the hamster/rat. I cried and cried.

Hmmmm... I guess I should probably take more sleeping medication before going to bed.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

I'M FEELING REALLY SAD TODAY

My little dog Buddy has started to have seizures again. They're not very frequent so he doesn't need to be on medication daily. But it's heartbreaking to see.

He usually just kind of "stares into space" and licks the air. And if I can get his attention it usually brings him out of it. But he's my baby and getting older, he's a Shih Tzu and about 10 years old.

I got little Buddy when I was working at an animal hospital. (the lowest paying job I've ever had but the most gratifying) The owner called one day to make an appointment to have him put to sleep which was odd because I had a lot of contact with Buddy since he came there to be groomed and they traveled a lot so he was also boarded there quite a bit. But he had bit the lady's husband and he was going down.

So when they came in I asked if I could have him and if he continued to be aggressive I would talk to the behavioral veterinarian and maybe he could help.

This poor women loved Buddy so much but her husband was a fucking ass wipe, Buddy was 5 years old then and I could believe it took him 5 years to bite him. And Buddy had bitten the fuck wipes foot and most of the time when a dog does that it's because they've been kicked. Her husband wouldn't even let her stay long enough to tell me what he liked and stuff.

So here I come home with this temperamental little dog that fucking hated me. And he was so damn cute, but he growled ALL the time. I couldn't pet him for 2 weeks after he came home with me. Anyway... we got through it all and he is a little grumpy sometimes but hey that's his thing and I leave him alone when he's in a "mood."

He's also bitten me 3 times in the face because my dumb ass kept trying to kiss him. I KNOW IT WAS STUPID!! He warned me but I didn't listen and I knew he was a biter when I got him so it was my own fault.

He's not the kind of biter that if you pet him he would ever bite but he didn't know what the fuck a kiss was. All he saw was my face in his and he didn't know know what I was going to do. And I know enough about dogs that I should not have ever attempted to kiss him. But like I said he's so fucking cute.

So it's 5 years later and he's still a little grump but he'll let me kiss him if I've been gone for a while and when I first come home. I'm such a fool.

But sometimes I wonder if he would have been better off if they had put him down, I usually can't afford to have him professionally groomed so he gets home hair cuts and sometimes looks pretty silly. But he knows what it's like to be loved now so that makes a difference doesn't it? He had his own pillow when they brought him to me but now he sleeps in the bed right next to me under the covers ever night.

And my Chow is scared to death of him, it's hilarious. They've argued a couple of times and Yogi (my big Boo Boo dog) usually comes out the worse. But they've become great buds... most of the time.

But again as usual I digress. I'm lucky I have a family member that's a retired veterinarian so I get meds cheap but I don't want him all fucked up all the time but if it gets worse he'll have to be on medication daily.

Anyway that's all for now I think I'll go and kiss my dogs. I kiss Buddy on the top of his head though. ha ha


A PETIT MAL SEIZURE, is a less severe form of seizure where the patient still has some voluntary control of movement and coordination but where certain muscle groups are doing their own thing and brain electrical activity is mildly disrupted. Staggering, momentary staring into space and other forms of incoordination may be visible to an observer.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

LEAVE THIS MANSION AT ONCE!!

OMG!! I just had the most intense dream (fucking crazy nightmare) of my entire life! I can't even write about it right now but I wrote it all down and will post it when I get up.

It took SEVEN PAGES of me writing as fast as I could so I could remember it all!

There were the Colts cheerleaders, a murderer on the loose, and that wasn't EVEN the most bizarre!

I have never had a nightmare like this. When I woke up I just laid there all sweaty and shit, before I could even turn the freaking light on.

Then when I turned the TV on there was this fucking creepy ass movie on FOX just beginning that was about mutated cockroaches or something. I hate and am terrified of bugs so I thought I better get the fuck up for a while.

It's an hour later so I am going to try and go back to sleep.

Some scary ass shit is going on in my brain. I'm like shaking all inside again.

FUCK!

Saturday, March 24, 2007

MOM R.I.P.

My Mom died since I was here last. 

My soul feels heavier, losing my Mom probably has everything to do with that. Even as an adult I could never have prepared myself for the pain, heartbreak and how lost I would feel without her. She annoyed the hell out of me sometimes but all daughters and Mother's experience that at some point I think.

I've never dealt with death very well but this has changed me. It's the only thing that has made me want to do whatever I can to see her again. To hear her voice again...

You know how people say they can tell their loved one is still with them? I don't feel that. All I feel is that I'm still here and she isn't. I can't even write about it without crying.

My Dad saw her though the night after she died, he said he was sound asleep but their little dog woke him up and there she was standing at the end of the bed. He said he felt like he wasn't supposed to see her but that she was there to make sure he was all right and to let him know that she was alright. Then she was gone.

I don't believe it was a dream, I'm sure it was her. But he and my sisters all seem to be dealing with her death better than me, they'll say "she's in a better place, she's with God now."

I know that, I have absolutely no doubt and honestly I'm glad about that. But she isn't with me. And I'm lost. I miss my Mom.

Seems odd, she was with me when my life began and I was with her when hers ended.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

HOW TO BE A DRUNK ASSHOLE

The next time you're at home preparing a healthy meal for yourself, en route to a good night's sleep, you might want to consider instead the route of the drunken asshole. Always a crowd pleaser, barrel of laughs and guaranteed good time for all. How might one achieve such stature? Read on, good friend...

Asshole Friends

 Be sure to have a slew of your asshole friends around during times of drunkenness. They're your inspiration and motivation. It is important there be at least one person present to guffaw and laugh real obnoxiously when you say something funny. Without a crowd, your stunts fall prey to being less effective. After all, what's a play with no audience? Your friends are your followers - you must nurture them. If you don't have friends, that's ok. It's so easy to make a friend for a night at any well-known drinking establishment.

How do you do this? Easy. It's called alcohol. Go someplace where alcohol is served. Like, a bar. Sit down. Order five of anything that's to your liking. A pitcher of beer, perhaps. Once you're on the road to being well soused, it's time to look for some partners-in-crime.

Don't know where to look? No problem. Let your eyes trail the room until they settle upon the bar. Usually you'll find a few good folks proppin' it up. Aim your body in that direction. Plunk yourself down, mutter something profound at whoever's closest, raise your glass in the air and clink it against your neighbor's glass. Viola. You have a new friend.  


Things to comment on

Be sure to hold nothing back. Offend as many people as possible by discussing sensitive issues like religion, battle of the sexes and/or politics. Ask everyone if they're racist and when they say no, tell them a horribly offensive joke and when it's over, high-five your friends whilst laughing hysterically at the joke you just made. Repeat the punch line again, if necessary. Attempt to make as many socially awkward moments as possible. Uncomfortable silences are great opportunities for one to blurt out random, stupid comments.

Make brief, meaningless observations about everything, especially if it's irrelevant to any part of your life.

For example:

"You know what really gets on my nerves? Velcro."

"You know what I hate? Squirrels."

"You know who I think is a real big jerk? David Hasselhoff."

This should really annoy people. Stop in-between stories to order more drinks. When someone fires a retort in your direction be sure to inform them that they're in the wrong, and slap the table very hard for emphasis. Pointing in their face is great too. Regale everyone with stories about how great you are. Disagree with everything they say, make lewd comments and wisecracks about their appearance, weight, outfit and lifestyle. Be sure to name-call as well. Get your friend(s) in on it.

For example:

"Dude, isn't Henry a LOSER!? Just look at him!"


"Yah, LOSER. Ha ha, good one!" 

Make sure you're both pointing at Henry too. Good. This is effective because it is highly immature and it makes people actually believe that Henry is in fact, a loser. And you come out looking like an obnoxious, drunk dickhead. Which is exactly what we want. It's genius. They'll be congratulating you all night long. 

Upping the ante
Be sure to hit on as many people in the same vicinity as possible. Try and find someone who has a boyfriend/girlfriend and make sure you get caught in the act. If you're ballsy, make a couple ass-grabs. Stare rudely at someone if they have an obvious deformity. Single out the insecure ones and put them on the spot by asking inappropriate questions. Get someone to buy you a drink and then give it to one of your friends or smash it on the floor.

Buy a round of shots for everyone at the bar except for one person. Like that Henry guy you called a loser previously. Don't buy him a shot. Then, get everyone you did buy a shot for to count to five together real loud and then take your shots at the same time. This will make Henry feel sad and left out. Then you should speak up and make sure it's loud enough for Henry to hear you say,

"Boy, that was the best shot I ever had. Don't ya'll agree?"

This will make Henry feel even more sad and left out. Ha ha.

Wear one of those T-shirts with a vulgar comment on it like:
  • Bite me
     
  • I fucked your mother
     
  • Eat shit and die 
Sarcasm

Sarcasm is an easy way to get your asshole point across. It's the lowest form of humor, feeding off of other people's comments. It's a no-brainer and always so nasty.
For example:

"Yah Henry, I looooove talking to you soooo much. Because I think you're soooo smart."
  
Top 5 Rules of asshole drunkenness

1. It's always your turn to talk

2. You are always right

3. You are the most intelligent person in the room

4. Nothing you do is stupid.

5. Know when to get the fuck out of there because you've offended too many people and they outnumber your drunken ass. 

Congratulations. You're an asshole and I'm drunk.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

THE LAST DAY

The Last Day

by E.B. White 

This excerpt is from the classic children's book Charlotte's Web. A story about friendship on earth, affection, protection, adventure and miracle, life and death...and the passage of time. 

Charlotte and Wilbur were alone. 

"Charlotte," said Wilbur, after a while, "why are you so quiet?" "I like to sit still," she said. "I've always been rather quiet." 

"Yes, but you seem specially so today. Do you feel all right?"

"A little tired, perhaps. But I feel peaceful. Your success in the ring this morning was to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, secure and safe, Wilbur. Nothing can harm you now. 

"These autumn days will shorten and grow cold. The leaves will shake loose from the trees and fall. Christmas will come, then the snows of winter. You will live to enjoy the beauty of the frozen world. Winter will pass, the days will lengthen, the ice will melt in the pasture pond. The song sparrow will return and sing, the frogs will awake, the warm wind will blow again. All these sights and sounds and smells will be yours to enjoy, Wilbur--this lovely world, these precious days..." 

Charlotte stopped. A moment later a tear came to Wilbur's eye. "Oh, Charlotte," he said. 

"To think that when I first met you I thought you were cruel and bloodthirsty!"

When he recovered from his emotions, he spoke again. 

"Why did you do all this for me?" he asked. "I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you." 

"You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that." 

"Well," said Wilbur. "I'm no good at making speeches. I haven't got your gift for words. But you have saved me, Charlotte, and I would gladly give my life for you--I really would." 


"I'm sure you would. And I thank you for your generous sentiments."

Sunday, August 20, 2006

ODE TO PHARMACEUTICAL NARCOTICS

Percocet, how I love you you make everything ok and clear and stop me from wanting to kill myself and the world. 

Percodan, ooooh Percodan you are my friend. 

 Lorazepam, Lorazepam you put me in a coma and burn the inside of my nostrils when I sniff you like cocaine. 

Adderall, you make me smart and focused and jittery and keep me awake for hours and hours until the sun comes up and everyone else has already gone to sleep like normal people. 

Vicodin I love you with beer and you make me want to throw things off the roof. 

You too, Tylenol 3. 

Percocet, I popped you quite a bit, you helped me quit drinking but then I just got wicked addicted to you and I think youll screw up my brains long-term. 

Lorazepam, you just make me more depressed than I was from the start. 

Klonopin, you put me in a fuzzy wuzzy warm place and I wanted to mouthfuck the world. 

Adderall, remember that time I took you then drank a lot and I got all wobbly when I was singing karaoke in front of all my fucked-up friends and I didn't know why but it was you, you all along, you were right there with me and then I drank some more and eventually took half a hit of ecstasy and that's when shit got weird. 

Percodan, Percodan I use to steal you from people with prescriptions and then mix you with my coke and beer and one time I did so much I thought I was having a heart attack so I thought I might take a Valium but then I didn't so I stayed up all fucking night long in the dark, on my bedroom floor waiting for the moment I would stop breathing. 

Fuck that was scary. 

Percodan, I was a monster without you but now I am somewhat normal, possibly more screwed-up but now I think Ill just go on anti-depressants instead of hanging with people who have coke all the time. 

You are all not meant for me, but for a short while, I thought you were.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

MY KITTY CAT BOOTS WENT TO KITTY CAT HEAVEN YESTERDAY ...

I had to put my kitty cat Boots to sleep yesterday.

I loved her a lot.

You know as a Catholic girl I was brought up to always pray to the particular Saint for whatever your request would be.

Like if you felt crazy you would pray to Saint Dymphna because she is the patron Saint of mental "issues."

Or if you need a job you should pray to Saint Joseph because he was responsible for providing the necessities to baby Jesus.

So naturally when my kitty cat Boots got sick I prayed to St. Francis of Assisi because ... well you should know what his specialty is for crying out loud.

I also took her to the kitty cat Doctor.

But she didn't get better...

So what's up with the praying to the Saints?

Do you have to give them advance notice for your prayers to be answered?

Wasn't St. Francis taking requests yesterday?

Why do some prayers get answered and some don't?

Do they show favoritism?


Do the Saints and God just not like some people and when those people pray to them they say...

"Whatever... good luck with that prayer request?"

And then laugh?

I don't get it.

Obviously I didn't my prayers answered.

My kitty cat Boots is dead.

And that makes me very sad.

Kind of pissed at St. Francis too.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

BORED ... POOR ... BODY ODOR

Lately I haven't even felt like posting anything because my life is so boring.

Work is OK but some of the idiots I have to talk to are so fucking stupid I want to point it out to them so badly sometimes I can't stand it.

But I can't.

And now there are only 6 of us that made it through training.

Funny I don't feel superior.

And this one girl I work with has body odor. ALL THE TIME.

I noticed it the first time when I went for the job preview.

I can't be the only one who has noticed either, but no one has mentioned it.

She looks clean.

And it's not the feminine funk smell either.

Body odor.

I'm just glad I don't sit too close.

I am an evil wench for thinking that.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

DANCE ALONG THE EDGE..


Sometimes we laugh like children

Running hand in hand

I never felt like this before

I never will again

Sometimes we cry like babies

As I hold you to my heart

Just can't stand to see you sad

It tears me all apart

And we're so afraid and it's such a shame

There is no reason we should doubt it

And the things we want to say we've never said

And we look away and it's all ok

And never really talk about it

It's a shame the way we dance along the edge

Dance along the edge

Dance along the edge

We always seem so careful

We're always so unsure

Past mistakes they make us shakey

Eyes on the door

When do we stop searching

For what we're searching for

When it comes

We question love and try for more

And we're happy here but we live in fear

We've seen a lot of temples crumble

Some of flesh and blood and love is under glass

Will we come undone

Will we turn and run

And will we know it when we find it

It's a game the way we dance along the edge

Dance along the edge

Dance along the edge

And we'll walk the line and we'll do our time

For just as long as we've been given

And pretend like we don't hear the things they've said

Can we promise love

Is it all too much

And do our old souls still believe it

It's insane the way we dance along the edge

Saturday, March 18, 2006

UNDERSTANDING

"You hold the answers deep within your own mind.
Consciously, you've forgotten it.
That's the way the human mind works.
Whenever something is too unpleasant, to shameful for us
to entertain, we reject it.
We erase it from our memories.
But the imprint is always there."

(Can't wash it all away)
(Can't Wish it all away)
(Can't hope it all away)
(Can't cry it all away)

The pain that grips you
The fear that binds you
Releases life in me
In our mutual
Shame we hide our eyes
To blind them from the truth
That finds a way from who we are
Please don't be afraid
When the darkness fades away
The dawn will break the silence
Screaming in our hearts
My love for you still grows
This I do for you
Before I try to fight the truth my final time

"We're supposed to try and be real.
And I feel alone, and we're not together. And that is real."

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

Lying beside you
Listening to you breathe
The life that flows inside of you
Burns inside of me
Hold and speak to me
Of love without a sound
Tell me you will live through this
And I will die for you
Cast me not away
Say you'll be with me
For I know I cannot
Bear it all alone

"You're not alone, honey."
"Never... Never."

Can't fight it all away
Can't hope it all away
Can't scream it all away
It just won't fade away, No

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

(Can't fight it all away)
(Can't hope it all away)
Can't scream it all away
Ooh, it all away
Ooh, it all away

"But the imprint is always there. Nothing is ever really forgotten."
"God, please don't hate me"
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."

Friday, March 17, 2006

MUSTARD AND MAURY POVICH ...

There are some people on Maury today that are facing their debilitating phobias.

Ok I don't like centipedes but I sure in the fuck would not go on National TV to tell everyone. And I stay away from them and don't think too much about it.

But there is a stupid bitch on there that is the fuck afraid of mustard!

Mustard?

That is just fucking stupid.

The end.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

WHAT I CAN STILL DO

16 January 2005, Florida) Two North Fort Myers residents, 23-year-old Molly and her husband, had rented a room in a local motel for some unspecified activity, perhaps involving perpetuation of the species. As Molly entered the second-floor room, she went straight for the lanai, which overlooked a concrete patio. Most guests would have seen the railing on the edge of the lanai as a safety feature, but for Molly it brought to mind fond memories of her youthful gymnastic abilities.

Molly called out to Todd, "Watch to see what I can still do." These would be her last words. She did a flip onto the railing for a handstand, just the way she used to do, then toppled over the other side, slamming into the patio 15 feet below. She was pronounced dead at the hospital.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

BOB'S FUNERAL, WAKE, VIEING, WHATEVER ...

Very depressing, Bob’s thing was today, it wasn’t like a funeral or whatever no one talked about him or anything. He was just displayed there. He looked dead. His wife and daughters are like zombies. The whole drama of his death, all of it, just makes me feel nauseous.

But there was a nice presentation of photos, one with him and Terry D. at Bob’s wedding 5 years ago. Terry’s been gone 4 years. Seeing Terry and his sweet bald head and smile broke my heart. I think about Terry every single day, I have to I have the huge poster of him in my living room that I sometimes talk to. Now they’re both dead. Not good.

Smoking weed after a day at the funeral palace is not recommended. Ugh.

I’m going to clean the kitchen and sweep up all the broken glass.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

MY FRIEND BOB DIED LAST NIGHT

WTF?? Bob's dead. Just 2 days shy of the anniversary of Terry D. being gone 4 years. Dead. Gone forever. So many things are left undone when someone dies. There could be dry cleaning that will never be picked up. Things like that. One minute you're here and the next you're gone. That fast.

Massive heart attack. That's not much of a surprise though but still .. gone.

I hate death, I'm envious that Terry and now Bob know what's on the other side. I wonder if the people you care about are still around you after they die. I don't know. I don't feel any presence. Maybe they're there but they can't let you know.

I loved the movie Beetlejuice. I hope it's like that when you die.

I'm not OK.

I'm not functioning. I kept forgetting where I was when I was driving home from Bob and Peggy's house.

I didn't show up for my jail weekend but I'm in deep shit on Monday. I may have to spend some extra time in jail because no fucking one tried to help me get there or watch the dogs. But if I had went I wouldn't have known that Bob died until Sunday night. I'm glad I didn't go.

I wish I had went over earlier but I was too lazy and it was too cold. I did tell him on the phone today that I was a real friend to him and he should not ever doubt that.


With as much as I've wished myself dead in the last week I realize I don't really want to be dead.

Thanks Bob, I'll miss you.

Tell Terry I said Hi!

I'll see you hopefully later than sooner.

That's all for tonight I suppose.