Saturday, December 11, 2004

OHNONONO! The Company Christmas Party!

O Christ o lord, methinks I will have to start drinking now, heavily. God look upon me and forgive me the very fun sins I am about to commit this evening. I must dress up like a fool and stumble over to the boss's mansion for the hubbys Christmas par-tay.

It's four pm. We are to be there at six p.m.. Precisely why I must start drinking now. My hubby is only mildy concerned, as he knows I am well able to hold my alky-hawl, and has never seen me (well, perhaps once) less than able to main-tain myself.

I figure if I can walk and smile, while my eyes look all sparkly (really a drunken glaze) and say happy holiday to you! to all the coworkers, I am doing my job. I HATE THIS HATE THIS um, I dont wanna go! SHITSHITSHIT.

What the fuck are you supposed to talk about during this soul tearing horror of socializing? I mean, cmon, I can't point and laugh at those I have heard the good dip about, nor publicly snub those my husband feels are assholes, nor tell his boss what a jerkin fool he is. So what to say?

I can only throw caution to the wind and try to imbibe as much as possible, and eat as many shrimps as they lay out. Screw the cheap multimillionaire jerk. Im getting my moneys worth. Maybe I'll wear something slutty. Or perhaps dressing like a prudish librarian would be more fun, considering the drunken state Im sure to end up in later in the evening.

Well wish me fun.

Friday, December 10, 2004

The Job Hunt

Those of you who know me an love me will be sure to sympathize with my current state of affairs, namely, my status as "one of the unemployed".

Somewhere, in paperwork right now laying on Dubya's desk, I exist as a blip, a tiny point, a character digit, representing one of those "American's out of a job". He should call me, I have some real important, "direct from the field" survey data he needs. Evidently. Because the job market in this, the real world, is not being represented accurately through the media at large at the moment. Trust me on this one, I am in the know.

Ahhh, the job hunt. Effervescent, delightful toe tingling joy! I haven't had this much excitement since my last rectal exam, divorce, root canal or jeans shopping expedition. What fun to sum up your life on one piece of 8.5x11 lite bond laser paper! And should you feel the need to get it all down, and splurge on 2 pieces of paper, you must know now your wasting a tree. The second page is never read, and even if you are that impressive or interesting, no one else really cares. So save it. Make the font smaller, bite the bullet, and condense. (Just a wee bit of advice from a pro).

(How did I actually arrive at such a depressing and sorry state of affairs? Hmm, well, that's another story. Suffice it to say, I'm suing the Bitch! Anyway, what's it to me? My attorney believes in me and my cause, and God Bless America! She took the case on a "Contingency", and for those not in the know of legal jingles, that means I aint paying her a dime till it's all said and done and we win. So she's werkin her ass off, and if the jerkin of the gherkin is for nutin, taint no hair off my teeth. Anyway, I cannot lower myself to live in the past, its just bad for my Karma. I refuse to come back in my next life as a three legged cricket. So, onward and forward I say.)


The present situation is dire, my friends. The world at large is unkind, and its stupendously horrifying when you realize how truly shitty most people are. ...Oh baby, baby its a wild world (hum along)...When your down, and troubled, and you neeeed ahelping hand.....(keep singing....) you find that your friends (so called) and family (you can pick your nose but you cant pick your family) are there for YOU. Yessir! Rely on those closest to you, to tell you very important things you need to hear during this time of terrible, depressing, gasping for breath o-mi-god what if I can't pay my mortgage next month horrible panic anxiety attaaaacking times. Their such a help!

You'll hear thing sure to pick ya up! Like, "You can't just sit around all day and eat twinkies and watch infomercials, no one will hire fat people anymore" or "Hey my nephews friends fathers brother in law has an opening for a farmhand, and I thought of you and knew it would be the perfect thing!" or "oh, you'll never see that kind of money again." This becomes plainly true as you ponder your previous 6+ figure salary and complete the "Test to see if you can alphabetize files and Add" on your fun filled took-you-two-and-a-half-hours-in-travel-time- job interview.

Jealousy is always sure to rear its ugly head when it comes to the money, cause family and friends will always want to make more, and have more, than you. Its scary to realize you've been enrolled in this competition without your knowledge, but doubt it not, you have! Of course, you only get to learn about the race when your out of it. I understand, generally, because for most of us, our monetary earnings define how accomplished we have become in our lives, regardless of our works reflection on who we are, and if we actually ENJOY it. Its what we do "it" for. It=work. Most of our lives are spent in pursuit of work, and dammit, what that freakin end of the year W2 says we got for all this shit better look good. Fuck. Thing is, I know not 1 person, NOT ONE, who I believe really LOVES what they do, and do IT, regardless of what they earn. Sux, really. So why do we scramble, run, compete, and pursue this thing called work?

Cause I got big fuckin bills asshole! Why else? I hear ya. Yea, me too. Sux, really. To tell you the honest truth, the most fun I've had in like ten years has been this six months of unemployment. The last time I had this much fun was the last time I was unemployed. And to be technical, I could quantify that a bit by saying I have enjoyed the "rest and relaxation" portion of this stint of joblessness, and the fact that I have time to ponder the bigger questions in life. And clean. Alot. My house is a sparklin. And do creative things, like whip up gourmet meals, and polish my puppies toenails.
Last time I was on the job hunt, I was in my early twenties, and had tons of fun in a much different way. I ran to the bar everynite, cashed my unemployment checks, and basically drank and partied round the clock. Shit, that was the life. But not this time around, because of bills, and obligations, and Im just too old and fat. (Actually, it's because Im married now. That's the real reason. If I wasn't married, I'd be right back in the bar (perhaps a higher class of establishment this time around) cashing those unemployment checks and swiggin vodka gimlets and pinching the asses of cute young boy toys.....but I digress...)

Lets just say I have enjoyed this special quality time I've had with myself lately. And no matter the comments from clown corner that I have to hear regularly, I refuse to loose site of the goal! Which is: a real gravy job. (Want some fries with that???) Shit, I don't care about the money. As long as hubby and I can pay the dues, we got it going on good. So to speak. And ifn we caint pay de bills, well shiiit. ....(sing along again).....wait a minute wait a minute Im for come on honey lets sell the stock and spend all the money and go looking for a brand new day... Somewhere we can live cheap, in a warm tropical climate. Ride bikes to work and eat alot of spongecake. And the biggest problem I would have to deal with is...what color of flip flops match my shirt today?

I mean really, what the fuck?

I am off to pluck a few chin hairs, but I give you this motto to live by:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Does one ever REALLY Re-locate?

Well, perhaps some of my faithful followers are aware, some not, (Bye the way, I want to mention to all those followers that I honestly prefer a direct post to my postings, as opposed to personal emails-Afterall, lively debate and dialog keeps the world going round) that I am actually an immigrant from the great state of MARYLAND-Land of Taxes!. Our move to Littlestown, PA (WooHoo) happend about a year ago, and I am in a dilemma.

We have had lots of time to scout out the area, immediately locating places of interest (Walmart, Pizza, Post office (christ, I'm boring). We can get around fairly well, and now rarely end up somewhere unknown. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to break myself completely away from all things Maryland-ish.

For instance, I don't read the local papers. I only read the Baltimore Sun online. Radio stations are always tuned into Baltimore based tunes, and the only traffic jam morning backups I want to hear about are in Baltimore. I don't know why, I don't work there anymore. But for some inane, unfathomable reason, I love to hear about the Car-B-Que on Owings Mills Boulevard, between Lyons Mill and Winands Road. Because something inside me just vibrates with excitement when I realize I know EXACTLY where that is. I know what's on the corner, I know what that place looks like in my head. And I LOVE to hear about it, just drool mentally over real-time live updates.

Then we have the TV news. Understand that I recently killed my love affair with satellite (it's overrated, and I got a better deal on digital cable cause of my cable internet service (best thing since sliced whitebread) because they wanted to make me pay for the priviledge of seeing local news stations. Screw-em. But here is the funny thing-Now that I can, I don't want to watch the local news. Hate it. Never turn it on. When I do happen to cruise bye on my way to Maryland public television, I never linger long. Makes me feel, dunno, dislocated. Like I've been on a perpetual vacation and I can't get off the train. I don't know those people, the weatherman is weird, and I don't have mental visuals of the places they are talking about. Everything is just, Different. But I don't need it anyway, because for some reason, Adelphia Cable still airs local Baltimore newstations. Ain't it grand!

Its so refreshing to tune into WJZ, to see everyone, everyplace, I have known my whole life. My husband doesn't feel the same, because he (who relocated from the West Coast) lost his ability to tune into any station he use to watch. Not me. I still got dibbs on Maryland goings ons all the time.

So, the question is, really, Why? How long will it take to convert? PA is just different. People are too polite. To, um, like nice and pleasant. Just weird, overall. Cornfed slowpokes. No one even drives fast up here. There are all these weird little townships, and they each have a particular sameness. Overall, I have lost my cosmopolitan City feelers. All the excitement in being part of the "big city". Shit, my husbands still thinks if you take 83 South into the city you will most definitely be shot in a drive by. Or come home with an STD. That's his world awareness of Baltimore, all he heard prior to his cross country move here. That's special, huh? But to me, it's home sweet home. And I miss it.

Hey, maybe I should move back!


Wednesday, October 20, 2004

The Perv is having fun!

Mimmy is also enjoying the new puppy.

She noticed just the other day that Zeta enjoys humping Aero's head.

I pointed out that what she was viewing was basic doggie dominance behavior. Aero is a neutered male, and Zeta is just 4 months old, and way to young to exhibit any type of sexual act.

Mim was disappointed.

Eww.

I'M A MOMMY

Well, I'm sure you all need to know that congratulations are in order. I have a new puppy! Awww! Her name is Zeta (in honor of the aliens from Zeta Reticuli, go see www.zetatalk.com) and she is cute! Of course, all puppies are cute. Well, wait. My brother has an American bulldog, and she is butt ugly. They should have named her Wart or Toad. But, personality goes a long way, and she has a great one. Zeta is a Great Dane. Cause I like big dumb dogs. She just had her second vet check up, and she weighs in at a trim and fit 60 lbs. Good for 4 months old, huh?

BUT, she is a total punk. What a pain in the ass. What was I thinking?!! Shit. Chewed up shoes, pissed up carpet, exaggerated hyperactivity. Barking at leaves. She tried to murder poor Aero, grabbed him by the collar and drug his bony ass all over the yard, choked the crap out of him. And the howling and yipping! Gawd! I thought dogs are supposed to like their kennels!

Then again, it's better than a kid all around. I mean, hey, no shitty diapers to change 10 times a day, 7 days a week, for like what, 4 years or sumthing? Eeewww. And no feeding around the clock either! If I forget to feed the dog sometimes, it's not like she's gonna tell anyone, right? And you can't lock up your kid in the closet when they piss you off, or throw them out on the porch in the middle of the night for making too much noise, can ya? Well, I'm sure it would be frowned on. And kids bruise! You can't give them any swift kicks in the ribs to help relieve your aggravations when you come home from a hard days work. So, dogs are better, all around. Good choice for me.

(Okay, relax. You know I'm kidding. Dumb Asshole. I wuv my wittle baby giwrl. I feed her on time 3 times a day, She gets lots of wuvving and has tons of fun. And although, occasionally, she HAS gotten a smack on the ass for particular indiscretions-(You know how I feel about that, see other postings) She is not abused. She has a great home and great parents. She is spoiled. She is also courageous and brave and will bite you if you say something shitty about me. Remember that.)

Saturday, September 11, 2004

REMEMBER THIS DAY

Never forget.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Tim's Views on "Political Correctness" & "Racism" Today

Political correctness has grown into a monster that needs to be stopped. What once started out with a mailman becoming a letter carrier has grown into our "lack of understanding the black's culture" when they commit violent crimes.

I ask you this: What "culture" is this? Didn’t they grow up and live in the same world as the rest of us? Do the natives in Africa deal drugs, shoot people and steal? NO!

Why is it that when they get caught for wrong doings there is so called nonprofit organizations "NAACP" and left wing politics that come to their aid?

This is not a black-white thing, this is a human thing. I hate to dissect and alienate one particular minority in our culture, but it must be said. Our country's blacks are out of control. They are starting their life of crime at an increasingly younger age, and we all see it, regardless of race (white, black, yellow and red.)

Here in the United States the police and the courts have their hands tied due to political correctness.

I am an American Indian. NOT to be confused with the common term of Native American, as all people born in America are Native Americans. This includes blacks in America. I do not call them African Americans, I call them black Americans, hell most of them could not even find Africa on the globe.

We American Indians see it all happening and are totally disgusted be the shameless way blacks are still blaming the whites for their misfortunes. All you need to do is get off your Asses and do something with your lives. The whites have opened so many doors for your race out of unfounded guilt. If you want to blame someone, blame your own kind out there committing the violent crimes and making a bad name for the rest of your race. I'm sick of hearing about the "White man Keeping you Down." Blow it out your ass, and jump the first ship back to your "cultural heritage." You have a problem with this country? Go start your own. Consider this: the White Man DECIMATED my race. Then, because they felt bad, they provided us with wonderful little areas in which to live. You think the Ghetto is bad? You need to visit a reservation.

As an American Indian you do not see my kind and myself marching and rioting and looting and killing because our ancestors were murdered, raped, and pillaged. So what gives you the right to do so because your own people sold your ancestors as slaves? Hell my ancestors didn’t even get the chance to be slaves; they were just killed for dirt. And we are still forced to live on reservations if we want to partake in our culture, while some of us choose to live in society and become law-abiding humans.

It is time that your race looks within for the way out of the hole you are digging yourselves into, and put a stop to the ones committing these crimes against our way of life and the politicians aiding them, only then will people change their minds about racism.

Saturday, August 21, 2004

Tim say's:

Who needs babies? Let's get a puppy!

So, we are.

To Breed, or NOT to Breed...

I don't have any children.

Parents with children are all around me, which gives me the right to comment and offer my personal opinions on how to raise them. I am continually subjected to environments in which this social dynamic is constantly in flux.

Actually, I am able to offer an unbiased view on different parenting techniques
1) BECAUSE I don't have any children, and 2) I don't give a shit what you think.
I suppose you feel that only you are "in the know", having a little bundle of joy all your own. Just as I am SURE that mysterious, magical book, (How to be the Best Parent in the World) fell out of your twat 2 minutes after junior did.

Oh dear me, how I enjoy watching all of you loving parents and offspring. (A personal favorite is in a crowded mall, late in the days shopping, after you have subjected your little disciples to hours of boredom and harassment, and now they are excessively hungry, tired and mean mean mean. You guys look like your having soooo much fun!!!)

Yea Yea Yea, I know what your thinking. I'm just a mean dried up old hag, destined to become a spinster that the neighborhood kids will terrorize by egging my house. Your thinking: Man, She's (35) yrs old! Her biological clock is ticking away, and she's sitting on a large vat of rotten eggs right about now! She better hurry up and Get R Done. Times awasting, and she ain't gettin any younger"!

Oh yea? SCREW YOU! And just because I got good teeth and nice wide hips, I ain't gonna be a breeder anytime soon. This is due of my observation of, well, everyone I know that has bred. They are all miserable. Totally, and completely. Pathetic, really.

They (the others, the "parents") try to lure you into their world, blubbering about "one day, you'll see, kids are soooooo worth it" (Really? Personally, I prefer a sparkling clean, organized home, without the lovely aroma of diaper jeanies, or handprints on the wall, being completely surrounded with lovely delicate collectibles and objects d'art on full display, a schedule all my own, and no one to wait on but myself).

They share additional nonsensical ideas like "I just love to see the world through their eyes". (What's wrong with your eye's? Didn't you grow up seeing the world too?)

I am sick sick sick as dog that Everyone I meet has the strange urge to ask "Do you have children? NO??? Oh." AS THOUGH I were somehow inept, or failed massively on my "expected" accomplishments as a woman. AS THOUGH I am something LESS of a woman because I have not utilized my "god given reproductive equipment", and the power of "bringing forth Life" was "wasted on me, hon".

Consider this, (You breedin bitches), should the man (and let's use YOUR man for this equation) utilize his "god given reproductive equipment" the way it evolved, YOUR man should be out donating his seed to any willing female who bends over. THAT'S why he has soo many spermies. And somehow, I just betcha, you wouldn't think highly of your man laying donations of his life giving seed up and down your neighborhood block, would ya???

The underlying reason that I feel we, as an American population, should limit our family unit reproduction (like they do in Japan, and if it's not Japan I'm thinking of, any other communist-over-populated-Asian-country may be substituted) is proudly displayed on my bumper sticker. Stupid People Shouldn't Breed. And face it, our country is just infested with stupid people. And they are out there right now, breedin like bunnies. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
Stop the insanity, I beg you.

Now, I have (4) nephews. Don't get me wrong, I just love kids. For about (8) hours. Then I am more than happy to givem back to their miserable parents. Guess what? I spoil the hell out of them, bribe them with sugary sweets, givem cash, let them watch tv whenever they want, eat anything, anytime they want, and take them to fun places. They just love auntie Roo, and they will continue to adore me forever. You see, I need them to take care of me when I get old. And sometimes, I like to keep them overnight, just to watch how much they eat in one sitting at breakfast, and compare with them idiosyncrasies of cartoons of merit. And oh! the amusement of allowing them to "dress themselves".

Well, Hell, maybe I'll just squirt out a few of my own soon. Sometimes they are alot of fun, and afterall, I feel stupid visiting carnivals and amusement parks without dragging them along. And who'd want to miss the excitement of soccer practice, or a PTA meeting, or "mommy, how come she doesn't have a hoo hoo?"

Shit, it's not as though one has to acquire any special skills to breed. (And if my husband and I can't do it on our own, due to the rotten egg factor, for 87 thousand dollars we can visit an infertility clinic of our choosing, or perhaps order a kid from Croatia).

Yes, perhaps I should reconsider. Anyway, my family and friends owe me tons of free babysitting, and it's not like my boobies aren't already saggin into my armpits, right? And let's not forget about the Tax Deduction, and all that "makin babies" practice sex!


I'm going to go find my husband. This will freak him out. What fun!

KIDS: To Smack'em or NOT to Smack'em

Well, this topic will surely piss someone off, of that I am positive. And oohh, how I love Pissing People Off. For me, it's a sport.

You must know now that I never give 2 shits about anyone else's opinions, especially if they don't agree with mine. Oh, don't get me wrong, I enjoy hearing others opinions. But most importantly, I feel that you should hear mine, and I thoroughly enjoy regaling you with them on many wide and varied topics.

(When you actually reach the state of "not giving 2 shits about what anyone else thinks" for the first time in your menial meager meaningless lives you will be truly liberated, and your innate creative thought processes will no longer be hampered, and your pie-hole will spill forth with wonderful ideas, and all the little blind babbling sheep people will bow down before you and recognize you for the amazing and powerful mind that you are).

That being said, I feel that if you haven't smacked your kid in the mouth at least once yearly, commencing with (3) years (possibly earlier, depending on your abilities as a parent and the level of brat-t-ness of the child) to, oh, apx. (13) years (again, possibly longer if your child develops into a juvenile delinquent), you completely deserve how your child treats you for the rest of your life. Furthermore, consider yourself partially responsible for how they treat others. Yes, that's right, It's always going to be Your fault, ultimately, if your kids turn out to be assholes.

Initially, let us define the only type of physical discipline I condone: A SMACK.
As defined in Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc. as: 1: a blow from a flat object (as an open hand) [syn: slap].

This action is not to be confused with (what I consider) uncalled for violence and abuse, categorized as ever:
1) beating children with your fists.
2) striking children with another object of any kind.
3) long winded strung out verbal mental persecution's that degrade not only yourself, but also the child, and in fact cause more harm than almost anything else lousy you could do to a kid.
4) ANY kind of sexual act (which will not be discussed in this topic, most especially in association with children).
5) The only means you utilize as a discipline set (dumbass).

Now, some folks, not having enough brain matter to stuff up a gnat's ass (you can thank Mimmy for that particular colloquialism) assume that their children "won't love them anymore" or will "develop and harbor some deep dark hatred of them." Hey, don't put your insecurities as a parent on your offspring. Who's the grown up here? Well, Act like it! You ARE in charge, you must set, manage, and occasionally display the parameters of acceptable and un-acceptable behavior's.

No, this does not teach the child that hitting is ok, and may be distributed about by them upon someone else. It teaches the child (if you do it right) that SMACK'S may be given by parents, (and it's only ok for grown-ups to do this, only to their own children, and only 'cause you love them and care so much) (possibly close relatives children, upon occasion and with their parents permission), kinda like only grown-ups can drink beer.

Picture this scene (borrowed from Marty Stouffer's Wilderness Adventures Series):
Momma Bear with her Young Cub in tow, trolling through the meadow, intent on her search of juicy grubs and nutritious berries for Young Cub to eat. Young Cub is bored, and being playful, jumps upon Momma Bear, repeatedly, to bite her on the ass. Now, momma bear gives a few warning growls and snarls at Young Cub, but being young and inexperienced, he has not learned a first and very important lesson: What Momma Bear will (and will not) tolerate. Young Cub jumps up and bites Momma Bear in her big hairy bumpkis again, and behold: He learns an important lesson, as Momma Bear swats his ass, just once, but good. He ponders this lesson as he rolls down the hill. When he gets up and shakes himself off, he runs to catch up with Momma Bear, who went along searching out food, and the matter is not elaborated upon.

So you see, 'twas very simple. It was not necessary for Momma Bear too:
1) Yell, scream, or threaten (or loose control in any verbal manner, allowing the juvenile to manipulate her.)
2) Discuss the intended smacking action ahead of time. (The element of surprise, of the un-expected, is critical to the learning behavior of the juvenile. )
3) Deliver more than(1) ONE swat. (It is imperative that the swat is not a joke, and is delivered firmly and without hesitation. If you swat more than once (per necessary lesson) your a lousy parent and should give your kid to someone else, forever.)

Parents that don't smack(or swat) occasionally will Unfailingly, Always, (and ask anyone who is not afraid to tell you the truth because they don't give 2 shits what you think) have ill-mannered, disrespectful, un-manageable street urchin brats, who later evolve into convicts.

I have actually witnessed a child (parent & child will remain nameless, as I know them) turn to their mother and say: "I Hate you, You suck, and I hope you die!". I quickly position myself behind the child to grab the teeth that were sure to momentarily fly out of it's head. But alas! The little snot-nosed disrespectful bugger was given a stare, and told to "go to his room", which of course, is what the little shit wanted in the first place, because his room is really Disneyland. Take out the tv w/cable, DVD, playstation, boom box, 7 million dollars in toys and gadgets, and perhaps he wouldn't be so keen for a visit.

You see what I'm getting at here? ASK yourself, Shit, If I woulda said that to my mom? She woulda.....well, you know. So what the hell is wrong with you? Yes, I know you don't like your parents, but No one does. It has nothing to do with them smacking that nasty little mouth of yours when you needed it. It has everything to do with your clear and concise understanding of never disrespecting adults. Which in turn, teaches you to never disrespect yourself. And so on, and so forth, and perhaps if we applied this logic more often, not living in fear of some Left Wing Tree-Hugging Liberal Assmunch from McDonald's calling social services and giving them your license plate number (because she saw you swat your kids ass in the bathroom) (for telling you that you were a bitch because you didn't buy them ice cream) things might be better with the world right now. Her kids, meanwhile, are pawning her gold jewelry, disrupting the environment at the high school, selling drugs, thieving from the neighbors, screwing anyone that lets them, and basically running her life into the ground. But she was a good mommy, and never never smacked her kids.

I'm sure you've had your ass kicked by one or both of your parents (hopefully) exactly when you needed it (Anyway, they brought you into this world, and they should be able to take you out, and you better never forget it). Perhaps you may now recognize how imperative and helpful it was in the molding of your pyche as a youth. Hey, you turned out alright, didn't you? (I truly hope it wasn't excessive, or more than smacks, ever. If it was (I'm so sorry), and please seek counseling immediately. Then, visit your parents, and smack'em around a bit, as this is really the only thing that will give you closure. Their old now, and you can take'em.)

Understand something here, I do not have children of my own (another topic) but I do have (4) nephews, who I see regularly. I love them dearly, and spoil them rotten. But doubt it not: When they are brats, or disrespectful uncouth clouts, I do smack'em. Right on those cute little asscheeks.

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