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.

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Women's Championship Whisker-Plucking

There is nothing more satisfying to me than a successful session of whisker-plucking. I have this inane fascination with things that grow on me. Whiskers qualify. As I pluck, I ponder the larger questions of life, For instance, why whiskers? On women, I mean. What is the evolutionary reason behind female moustache and chin hairs? Thoughts like this keep me up at night, plucking. For Instance: I have yet to discover the answer to : WHY DO MEN HAVE NIPPLES?

Oh, I get armpit and pubic hairs, they serve a specific purpose. I know this, as I have researched. Pit & Pube hairs collect and hold the personal scents/smells/chemicals that attract the opposite sex. Once upon a time, they were a natural thing and not something to be concerned about. This was prior to shaving, and makeup, bra's, and high heels. Now, most men don't view a woman with pit hairs spewing from their tank top as a sexy thing. Unfortunate, don't you think?

Nevertheless, I have been unable to discover the reasons behind female facial hairs. Everyday, more have sprouted. I have tried the old basic standby's, waxing (ouch, and It doesn't last longer than plucking) and shaving (not as fun as plucking, stubble is gross, and it creates a plethora of additional whiskers). But the sport of plucking just satisfies some strange compulsion deep within my soul. Man, I just LOVE to get a big, black, stiff, long chin hair outta my face. Scarfing an entire box of twinkies under 15 minutes can't even hold a candle to de-whiskering, in my book.

Just yesterday, I was pinching and squeezing this gnarly spot next to my mouth, I had assumed it to be an underground zit. You know the ones, they need some developmental help in rising to the surface to shine. But then, in my magic makeup mirror (equipped with (3) different lighting effects for your plucking pleasure) I noticed a small hair, barely there. I promptly snatched my "teeny tiny tweezers" for the job (not the large angle-bladed everyday tweezers) and made contact. Gently and slowly, I pulled, coaxing the hair out to momma. And I pulled, and more kept a coming, and pulled and pulled, and OMIGAWD, this was the longest hair I have EVER extracted from my face. Evidently, It had started to grow up, then back down and around. A classic example of an "in-grown" hair. I was FASCINATED.

I have added this fine specimen to the collection I have proudly displayed on my mirror topped vanity tray. Hair's of merit earn a special place, taped to a piece of white cardboard shoe insert. There's the "first white chin hair", the "stubborn,deep rooted took me 10 mins to get out hair" and the unusual "large circumference extra thick and black hair" and my personal favorite, the "double hair that sprouted from one root ball". I do feel that this new acquisition, which I have entitled "the longest chin hair in history" will become my most coveted possession.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

The Mimmy Files

It's time to introduce you to "Mimmy". If your willing to peek into my world on a regular basis, I feel you shouldn't be denied.

Mim's is my granny. I don't know why we call her that, we just do. Kinda like hillbillies say Memmaw or Pawpaw. But I'm not a hillbillie (This is a fact, I have never lived in a trailer). Anyway, she just turned 79, and she lives with my husband (Tim) and I. And she's alittle "off". Perhaps it's just the age, but really, I know she has always been this way.

Her favorite hobby is to harass me. Actually, I enjoy it too. It's our communal hobby. We try to outdo each others harassment every day. Don't think ill of me, for harassing a little ole lady (she is little too, about 4'9"). She enjoys this activity more than I. If she couldn't bug the shit out of me, she'd keel over from boredom.

She has a variety of innane habits, which for me, are fuel for the fodder. (You don't get to hear about MY inane habits) For instance, she won't sleep in her bed. She goes to bed every night, but she doesn't sleep. She only sleeps in her rocking chair, during the day, hunched over like a question mark. I love to walk into the room, and catch her sleeping. "Mimmy! Are you sleeping in the chair again?!" invariably, she pops awake and says "NO, dammit, just resting my eyes." Well I hope that's what she is doing, otherwise I'd have to think her favorite hobby is counting threads in the carpet.

She smokes like a chimney. (I won't let her smoke in the house, she'd burn it down) She has always smoked, and refuses to quit. Nothing you say or do will make her stop. Once, I stole her car keys (like she should EVER be allowed on the road, that's another fun tale another time) and kept her "a flocking prisoner!" for a week, refusing to purchase her cigarettes. (She means to say "fucking", but she substitutes "flocking", as she feels its more PC). She refused the patch, and any other type of remedy that's out there for smoking cessation. She says she likes to smoke, dammit, and that's that.

She refuses to put her underwear in the wash. Understand that I do all the laundry, so it's not like she is just being lazy. She hangs them on the doorknob to "air out". If that doesn't do the trick, she "rinses" them out in the sink. There was a terrible row last week when she found her undies in the trash. (That was me). I told her the next time, she wouldn't find them.

She won't flush the toilet after she pee's. She likes to "save the septic system", conserving her flushing, only doing so when a #2 happens. Have you any idea what it's like to run around the house everyday flushing all the toilets? That's me, that's my job.

She cusses like a sailor. All the time. Occasionally, she even forgets to be PC and says "fucking". (She has been known to curb herself when the great-grandchildren are about) but normally, she enjoys cussing immensely. Well for that matter, so do I. I don't know why, it just feels right. I think I just discovered something disturbing about this situation. We actually ENJOY cussing at each other all day. It a game really, to see who is the most creative. Also, she doesn't limit herself to cussing at me, she enjoys employing a variety of "creative adjectives" in her normal course of speech. For instance, she won't just remark that "it's cold outside", she says "its colder than a witches titty with a brass nipple out there". Ah, then there's "Go to Hell Ms. Murphy!" We don't know who Ms. Murphy is, but she's been dammin her to hell for 50 years.

She doesn't wear any makeup when we take her out to eat (a requirement on at least a weekly basis) except for a bright slash of fuschia(pink/magenta) lipstick. That's it, just those lips. When I put on makeup (of which I wear very sparsely, as I'm naturally B-U-T-Full) She tells me I look like a whore. She calls ANY heel higher than 1", FMP's. (Fuck me Pumps) that's what she says when I wear heels, I'm just trying to go out and pickup men to get laid. (Well, she has shut up about that one, since I got married).

She's a perv. She watches that sex show with the old lady demonstrating new dildos and other *kewl* sex toys, taking calls from deranged confused individuals. How many of you have sat in front of the TV listening to the best ways to enjoy anal sex in front of your granny?? Freakish, I tell you.

Everything I cook, or attempt to cook, is shit. No-one will ever make anything better than she does. No-One. If she doesn't cook it, it isn't worth eating.

She accuses me of 1) hiding anything she is currently looking for 2) stealing anything she can't find or 3) giving it away.

She actually physically snatch-grab fights with me when I attempt to throw away the bacon grease. She must save it! for cooking string beans!! She hoards empty plastic bread wrappers, and hides them in a drawer, "in case you run out of saran wrap". She keeps a snotrag stuffed in her bra. She's a chocoholic, and hides Hershey nuggets and bite size milky ways under her chair, in flower pots, under the bathroom sink, and in her shoes.

Oh, there's lots more, but I hope to have given you a brief idea of the person I live with, day after day after longlong day. Now you know why I drink.

Dumplings for Everyone

If you don't like dumplings, there is something about you I just don't trust. Something very, very wrong. (If feel the same way about people who don't like ice cream)

I have the urge to share a family secret.....consider yourself lucky. These dumplin's are sooo very easy to mix up, don't deny yourself


1 ½ Cups flour
2 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon celery salt
1/2 teasp nutmeg
1 egg
½ cup milk
2 tablespoons parsley

Mix em up, plot them in a pot of soup or stew (of any kind) and Cook uncovered 15 mins, apx. 7 mins on each side (It’s important to turn them over, just tap on the edge with a spoon)
The soup/stew mixture should be at a simmer, it's not necessary to boil.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

It's the "Day After tomorrow"

Rut Wro Shaggy...RubyRoo is sscarred!

Ok, I saw the movie, and yes, it blew chunks. BUT the premise behind it does not. Is your weather not abnormally freaky? Hurricane Charly just caused colossal damage, and a massive typhoon killed more than 200 people in china. I have a sinking feeling this isn't it...a foreboding of more to come..forget the crappy movie.

See for yourself what you never see on the news! Earthquakes are getting stronger and more severe all around the world!! This is what our government shows us but I dont believe it's not edited...or try this real time graphics.
And do YOU know what a CME is? The activity of our Sun is abnormally way high, see this: or
Volcanoes are a-shakin round the world too...

...start paying attention before you don't have any power for a week...or water, heat/AC, or toilets that flush, or food...How long a stretch Have U ever lived without E-LEC-TRICITY?? (camping in your backyard doesn't count) So tell me if you think sumthing might be going on, or if I'm drinking too much again.
Ciao, Roo

Saturday, August 14, 2004

Head in the Toilet

A strange quiet decended upon the household. It took me, oh, perhaps 7 minutes to determine the strangeness WAS the quiet. Immediately, I went in search of Joel, my 4 yr. old 'phew.

I found him in the bathroom, his head in the toiletbowl.

ACK! A moment of terror! Then, he surfaced. "WHAT are you doing!" I say..

"I wanted to see where the water was going..." he said.

I feel that this is just a precursor to the imaginative mind of marvels of this kid..You know, I've never thought to check out where the water goes..Maybe I've missed some important things in life!

Friday, August 13, 2004

Bad Hair Rantings

Well, I decided to get my hair done. (Shortly, when I figure out how to, I'll be posting hair "Before" and "After foto's, so see fer urself). I trotted over to the hair cuttery.
(Now, I'm new in town, and don't have a new hair girl. I should have known better than to do this (the hair cuttery/butchery) thing, right? But alas, when the mood strikes, and your feeling flippy and spontaneous, off you go. So I probably deserve it, right? NO DAMMIT. I DON'T!. But whats to be done, I ask you?)

In all due course, and to give the girl her "do" (pun intended), I have what can only be described as "difficult Hair". Ohhh! and ahhh! say the uninformed straight hair chiks, I WISH I had your curly hair! I hate this statement. No you don't. My hair is thinned with big pruning shears with gnarly teeth, and relaxed with chemical straigteners. I haven't brushed my hair when it was dry since 1987, when "wings" were in! I grew it down to the middle of my back in hopes that the heavy length would make it hang with some degree of style. Not. In addition, it's super fine, soft and wispy, yet very thick. Mess with it too much, and it becomes a puff ball the size of snoop dogs as showcased in his most recent staring role in "Starsky & Hutch" . AND I'm a white girl.

So, today, I whimsically decided to try something new. You know, get a style of SOME sort.
In I walk. "Who in here has been out of beauty school for a least 5 years? Can I get 5 years??" I ask. Well, the "shop manager", Kim, raises her hand to the challenge. Ok, here we go.
"Kim" I say, "gimme something new. I'd like to see most of my face again, perhaps a bit of ear lobe." and Kim is off. Wow! Snarls are a flyin, my eyes are tearin up (I'm tenderheaded) as she yanks and evens and snips and layers. This takes about 20 mins. Suddenly, my head feels 20 pounds lighter. Things are looking good. A bit of silicone (for shine and frizz control, she says) and Voila!!! DANG! Looky THAR!! I look damn fine! Who would have thought?? An excellent cut right in the hair butchery! for $30 bucks too! (I haven't spent less than $150 on my hair in 10 years) Well, I'm beside myself. My asscheeks are clapping! I got a New Girl!

HA! Of course, I just couldn't stop there, now could I? Nooooo, I ask about "that deal with the cut n color you got going on..." So next I'm off for highlites. And an hour later, with 70 lbs of foils in my new crisp shiny bouncy lightly layered locks, I'm able to detect infared proton particle waves reverberating off the mars rovers. Cell phones are switching to my head for roaming. Well, you know the price of gettin B-U-T ful, right my girlfriends?? You been there!

THEN, the moment of glory, the "crowning" point, the foils are off, the dry is beginning, and..AND....I've got stripes of strawberry/wine red (an interesting fusion of color) in my medium ash brown doo. Ugh, o gawd, my bowels are clenching. I look at Kim, the scissor queen. And I see that she has stripes of the same color in her DARK BROWN hair. Doesn't look bad in there. Then I look at my reflection. Words can't bring justice to the moment, so I do what any right minded bold n beautiful hip chick would do...

I pay her $100 bucks, TIP her $25 Bucks (can you believe I did that??) and leave. I drive home convincing myself that it's new, hip, and I'm stylin.

My husband is home when I come in. He kisses me gently, and sniffs my head "gee, yer hair smells terrific!" he murmurs. "But Why are there red stripes all over your head? What the hell is THAT?" he says.
"THAT, you dumbass" I say, "is the newest look. When you get out of 1985, you might figure it out!" and I brazenly stomp away.

Tomorrow, after my morning crying jag, I'm going out in search of a new girl.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Have YOU ever Wondered....

. . . why we humans use only about 10% of our massively supercharged brains?
. . . why idiot-savants can somehow access parts of the remaining 90%
. . . why we humans have a gene pool with over 4000 genetic defects?
. . . why our closest genetic relatives, chimps and gorillas, have very few?
. . . why we humans have genes that are only 200,000 to 250,000 years old?
. . . why anthropologists insist we descend from creatures 4,000,000 years old?
. . . why we humans in no way resemble those ancient so-called “prehumans”?
. . . why we humans have 23 pairs of chromosomes for a grand total of 46?
. . . why our closest genetic relatives (sharing 98% - 99% of our DNA) total 48?
. . . how we humans could lose 2 whole chromosomes in only 250,000 years?
. . . why our skin is so poorly adapted to the amount of sunlight striking Earth?
. . . why we are so physically weak compared to our closest genetic relatives?
. . . why Earth is minus a huge part of its crust, the part where the oceans are?
. . . why Earth is the only planet or moon with moveable tectonic plates?
. . . why Earth’s moon is so extraordinarily outsized relative to other moons?
. . . why megalithic structures like the Pyramids cannot be duplicated today?
. . . why stones in those structures would buckle today’s largest moveable cranes?
. . . how the ancient Sumerians knew all about Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto?
. . . why we found Uranus only in 1781, Neptune in 1846, and Pluto in 1930?
. . . how and why the Sumerians kept cosmic time in units of almost 26,000 years?
. . . if these questions will ever end?
Free your mind. See
for more questions...or perhaps answers.

You must make your own journey, Come, Hop with Roo. I will show you the way. You determine the truths, and The light ...Perhaps, or Might be a better place to start. Afterall, we must move within the human consciousness first, donja think? Ask yourself exactly what that means-to be human? Never proved, Darwinism is taught to your children today, as it was taught to you. In fact, Darwin himself has discounted his own theories! Creationism? Well sure, I know I can accomplish alot in 7 days- I've been on vacation! Poohaa. TRY not to clutch onto structured religion. Ahhh Go take a gander. What truths ring in your being?

The answer, says those we pay to protect and serve (our government), lies not by the riverside, but here: or here: This is their only voice of reason. All they have to offer. "Really?" says Major Tom the astronaut, "but what about what I saw here?"

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Hop with Roo

  • Roo is here.

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