For Sale: One Asian Doctor Husband. Cheap.

Jethro's killing me.  I suffer from hypochondria.  It's genetic.  So when I become afflicted with an ailment, it is the perfect time to take advantage of me.  Case it point.

I have vertigo.  Right now.  I think it's inner-ear related, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have had some kind of head trauma in my sleep.  Shut up.  So I go to my husband - a doctor - for reassurance.   This is his purpose in life.  He solemnly conducts several tests and then says he's going to test my gag reflex.  I dutifully open my mouth and he unzips his zipper and laughs at me.

And a couple weeks ago, I asked him to work on my arm.  He stood behind me to the right and kept pumping my arm up and down and telling me to relax.  I tried for about 5 minutes before I realized he was rubbing my hand vigorously against his crotch.

He's killing me.

I'll Spare You Further Sight of the Testicles

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(NSFW)Hey Obama

                

                  OPEN WIDE

Sad Subjects

Jethro posted. It was one of the saddest stories I've ever heard. She had 4 children and three of them were killed in a car accident that occurred because her friend fell asleep at the wheel. Her oldest wasn't in the car.

I don't know what I'd do. I really don't. I'd want to kill myself, but I wouldn't want to leave the surviving child without a mother. It would be easier if everyone was gone just so I could slit my wrists and be done with it. I like to think I'd have the strength to go on, but I really don't think I would if I lost my children. I see every bit of good in the world in them, and if they were gone, there would be nothing. I would be nothing. I love my husband, but our kids are the best thing about us. I can't lose the best thing.

I watched Steve Harrigan break down in Haiti while showing a mom who had lost all 5 of her children in the quake. Usually I'd hold that against a reporter because they need to be brave and get us information. But in his case, I don't blame him much.

Anyway, dreary subject, but it's that kind of day.

Bits 'n' Pieces

I've been forced into a blog update by multiple circumstances. It's okay, but with my schedule, it will take awhile to get my blogroll back and a design that will make me happy.

My husband finally gave in and said we could have a threeway, but now I don't want one anymore.

Here is a song I like:



And finally, Jim Treacher got himself a sweet gig in D.C. at new website launched by Tucker Carlson called The Daily Caller. He's now in charge of that blog, which is known as The DC Trawler. I wonder if he's tired of bow-tie jokes yet? And I wonder if he'll write another review of The Aristocrats? Anyway, it should be enjoyable and I am already enjoying it.

Haven't Laughed This Hard In Weeks

Happy Holidays Folks, Wherever You May Be

Sorry for the belated holiday wishes, but I haven't had much computer access, and if I were to be completely honest, when I did, I just didn't feel like writing.

It was a psychotic tempest of a holiday for me, but what else could it be? At least it wasn't like the Worst Christmas Ever - a post which I feel the unhealthy need to read every so often.

We have been in Houston since Christmas Eve and just came back tonight. No major family feuds or anything, but definitely some interesting turns of events, one of which I will blog about at a later date, and another of which was Jethro's mother springing upon us the news that she was going to have a complete hysterectomy the day before she did. The girls and I stayed in Houston after Christmas while Jethro went back to New Town to support us. He came back in on New Years Eve and we went to a party at a friend's house.

Now that was a bloggable event.

Our friends are great. They just bought a new house and they quite understandably wanted to throw a New Year's party. Jethro and I arrived around nine. The karaoke machine was just getting revved up and a drink of pomegranate champagne punch combined with some pseudophedrine was enough inducement for me to sing Angel of the Morning in a duet with some chick who's name I still don't know. I sang harmony.

I wish the other guests were as cool. Sadly, one of our friends from college, who was a last minute invite, decided to bring two of the most wretched humans on earth. They didn't know anyone, but had no problems asking where the beer and the refrigerator were (because they didn't like any of the food that was set out). They were already pretty drunk when they arrived (or high, or quite possibly just very very slow-witted). I don't know. I didn't care. I just wanted to not talk to them, but who gets buttonholed? Me. The wretched humans were a couple. And the female of the species kept me for 5 whole minutes of my precious life to tell me about a money-making scheme involving our friend sexually assaulting me, which would invite my husband to punch his lights out, which could net us some cash by betting on the outcome of the ensuing brawl. Maybe this made more sense in her head, because I couldn't see the point of organizing a betting event where the only thing we knew for sure was that I would have my boobs manhandled. I mean of all the variables, that was the only sure thing. This just strikes me as witheringly bad logic. But just so you know, this is why the poor stay poor. If anyone tries to tell you differently, punch them in the face for the backwards, incompetent, malcontent, communists that they are.

And just for the record, I was not in bad form that night. I wish I was thinner, as always, but hair was good, make-up was great, boobs were buoyant. I was feeling pretty hot until that very weird interlude.

But still in all, it was a fun night. There were tons of fireworks (which I don't actually like much), my friends' house was beautiful, and I got good and buzzed. So mostly a win.

I hope everyone else had a fantastic holiday. I'm sorry I didn't get around to the blogs, but I hope to make up for it by visiting more this year.

You know you might be overwhelmed by the holiday when you are having relations with your husband and visions of sugar plums (and christmas wreaths and candy canes and wrapping paper) start dancing in your head......and they get you off.

Joys and things

Oh how my little blogs suffers. Boring life has taken over this rich, colorful tapestry of imagination and progress.

First off, my massage class of all women and one rotund, progressively slothful instructor is going only as well as can be expected. I stuck my neck out for one of my classmates whom I don't even like, but was being mercilessly picked on by the fat, annoying classmate who didn't like me. And now Fat Girl is gone, so it was much ado about nothing. How I managed to get involved is beyond me. I yearn for a simple life which includes no cunts, male or female, and yet I find myself surrounded. Did I tell you my non-sexy instructor told us all about how his testicles had not descended when he was born? It was all I could do not to sarcastically ask if everything was okay now. And he is shaving less and less. I think he is being overworked, but it could just be that he feels comfortable enough to not bother trying to impress us with minimal hygiene. And he's becoming increasingly inappropriate. My classmates can be pretty crude (there is something about putting your hands all over other people late at night that lends itself to the unseemly), and I admit that I indulge as well (although I try to be as clever with my vulgarity as possible), but I expect my instructors to have some control in this regard, or at least be wittier than the average slattern. But the non-sexy instructor, or the NSI for short, is somewhat slower with the banter. Yes, yes. I did know that head can be a double entendre. Perhaps it is hypocritical of me, but I feel an instructor should rise above, or sink so far below that he or she cannot be touched in any way. Which brings me to inappropriate touching. There is a girl in class who is pregnant. She's married and this is her second baby, but the NSI is always touching her stomach. I find this squirmingly uncomfortable to watch, mostly because he reminds me somewhat of Lenny from Of Mice and Men. Pregnant Girl is polite about it, but I have to look away so I don't vomit. I guess it's just weird because his stomach is bigger than hers which causes me to wonder why if a belly is so fascinating, he doesn't just touch his own. And then I remember that he does and I have to look at the pictures of the STDs so I don't think about it.

Other than that, it's going well.

I feel that I have a handle on the Christmas shopping, except for one present. We draw names in my family because no one can afford a present for everyone even if they're cheap, and I ended up with my sister's girlfriend. On one hand, this is impossible. But on the other hand, it's a challenge. And sometimes I enjoy a challenge. However, all I've got so far in the way of ideas is a customized t-shirt stating: "Carpet Ninja." But I think that might be in poor taste.

George Soros???

If the press is going to quote this man as if his unelected, unsolicited opinion means something, shouldn't they be revealing his ties to the Democrat party and his other organizations each and every time? Shouldn't they reveal his notoriety in wreaking havoc on financial systems the world over?

This man is corrupt to the core and we are now being given his point of view without any kind of counterweight.

Check out all the AP and other press articles quoting and aggrandizing him while barely touching his political affiliations.

George Soros Urges Use of IMF Gold-For-Green Loans

George Soros Warns Against Rebuilding Same Humpty Dumpty Financial System

With Big Money and Brash Ideas A Billionaire Redefines Charity

(check out the bizarre correction at the end. Since when is the Times that detail oriented, especially when the story wasn't initially wrong? It would appear someone's taking marching orders from the subject.)

Stimulus Thinking, and Nuance

This last one is mind-blowing. Check out the headline. Nuance. That holographic code word. The article actually defends fascism (think of it as a governmental system in terms of the economy, not concentration camps) as implemented by the NAZIS and quotes Soros in defense of it. Even if Germany never started its genocidal death camps, fascism is still a terrible form of government.

This is the one article I found that gives any real information on this man. In spite of the headline, it's actually quite balanced and informative. Of course it was published back in '98 when the press wasn't his bitch...

He's Seen The Enemy. It Looks Like Him.

These paragraphs cut right to the heart of the matter:

"Still, many observers wonder about Mr. Soros' straddling of so many fences in the worlds of finance, economics and politics.

''I think there's a built-in conflict between making money in public markets and improving the world,'' said James Grant, editor of a newsletter, Grant's Interest Rate Observer, and the author of several studies of financial markets. ''Soros is out there telling you what he's done, what he's going to do and how he'll save the world. I think there's a conflict because those goals seem at cross-purposes.''

''It raises questions about inside information when you're able to talk to central bankers and policy makers at the same time that you're involved in financial markets,'' Mr. Grant said.

For his part, Mr. Soros, dapper and attentive, defended his probity in a wide-ranging interview last week, saying he has always strived to keep separate his roles as a hard-nosed trader placing global bets and a financial guru able to rub elbows with the highest of the high and mighty. Though he had run-ins with American regulators in the 1970's and 80's, he has never been accused of insider trading or similar financial wrongdoing." [emphasis mine]

He's "tried" to separate his roles? Tried? Come on. If Martha Stewart went to jail, I'm guessing there's about a billion ways to send Soros there, not that I'd necessarily advocate that.

But how about letting in the sunshine? Let's pretend this is '98 and Soros hasn't bought off the press. Let's find out more about him and his intentions for our country. He has billions, his influence is everywhere, he sponsors the left-wing, free speech/information squelching orgainzation "Media Matters" as well as the highly partisan, left-wing MoveOn.org (among others), which the mainstream media quotes without fact-checking, he is being quoted willy-nilly in the press without question.....something is very wrong with this picture.

Zelda...

....briefly considered mixing the scotch in her mouth with soda directly from the bottle, but in gazing upon her husband's stern, somewhat nauseated visage, thought the better of it.

The Tale of Two Rabbits

Wow. It's been a long time since I posted. And I was just starting to get back into the swing of things too. All I can say is that I've been busy. I'm still working on the house, I'm still in my massage classes, and I'm trying to get ready for the holidays.

But I have loads of stories, and I did want to tell of the rabbits.

Our friends gave the girls one of their rabbits. His name is Phillix. He has brought much joy and cooperation in the mornings, as in the girls no longer meet their day with groggy thrashing at the unkind morning world and instead leap from their beds to care for their silent, cuddly friend.

The second rabbit is not so cuddly. And it belongs to me.

The august Trashman made contact to let me know he had a present for me. Jethro and I picked it up from his place of employ - a convenience store directly off the freeway. He was busy with a short line of customers when we walked in, and it gave me time to reflect on just where life's path had led me. If anyone were to have told me it would lead to a convenience store off 35 to pick up a bright orange sexual accoutrement, I would have.....well....probably believed them, but it doesn't change the delightful absurdity of the situation.

When he was through with the customers, we went to his car where he presented me with a multiply layered package. Had this been witnessed by law enforcement, I'm sure I would have had a far more exciting tale to tell.

Now I think I'm supposed to give a review. Trashman has heard of women leaving their husband's for this inanimate object. But I think I must disagree. Since it vibrates, I'd be hard-pressed to call it inanimate. I don't know how interesting the porny details are since we're just a married couple doing what married people do, so I'll give it my patented 9 word review. "It can go ahead and quit it's day job."

I really didn't like The Virgin Suicides. My parents were exponentially more strict.

Ft. Hood Shooter Paralyzed From Waist Down

Good. Now he'll die a contemptible virgin.

Happy Veterans Day...

...to all our vets. I'm alive and happy and free in a wonderful country because of you. Thank you.

12 13 Dead, But Let's Not Forget To Thank Fucking Ken.

He is such a douche. Reminds me of his idiotic comments after the Virginia Tech massacre.

Oh, and they were killed by a Muslim. The media is twating out, as expected, but someone has to say it. There's a rumor that Muslims don't like us much.

Oh So Many Things

I was going to post about a certain present gifted to me by the resplendent Trashman (who is posting again like crazy fun) but I have contracted some plague that rendered me a font of spewing magnificence within earshot of my entire massage class, so I will have to postpone.

I apologize for the delay.

How Does One's Garden Grow?

I can never decide whether it's more fun to be cheerful or more fun to complain. Since I can't decide, and the last post was a complaint of sorts, I guess I'll post a cheerful one.




This is the view from my deck.




Since it faces directly west, we get to watch the wild Texas sunsets, which pictures hardly do justice. But they're my favorite part of the house.

I know the backyard needs a lot of work, but considering it was not taken care of for over a year, and we are just coming out of an extraordinary, extreme, mega-unheard of drought, I think it's manageable. I'm mostly going to put in vegetables and zeroscaping anyway. I've never seen the point in not using native plants in one's landscaping. Trying to keep a lawn of unnatural grass in the climate we have just seems like an exercise in futility and time that could be better spent on growing something productive. I intend to chop down and de-stump every last cedar tree (we're all allergic), replacing them with peach and orange trees and maybe a lemon tree. I would like some berries too.

Now I just have to learn about growing things in Texas. Every bit of knowledge I've retained as far as plant growing, is from my childhood up north. And I can't explain just how, but things grow differently down here.

Clotus

My massage therapy classes are boring. I think I've mentioned that. The only redeeming factor was the fairly cute instructor who could at least provide some eye candy while I debated the merits of poking out said eyes. So of course they fired him. There wasn't any good reason I could see, but the ignoramuses were looking for an excuse for their constant failure, and he was the scapegoat. I wonder what the school will say when their grades don't actually improve.

So as luck would have it, his replacement is a portly gentleman of somewhat less than average looks who regaled us on his first day with an exhaustive description of the surgery he had to correct his deviated septum, leaving out nothing including the removal of his nose tampons in all the bloody, stringy, mucousy detail. I don't hate him or anything, but he's constantly saying disparaging things about the other instructor, and he's certainly no beauty.

And I got into a heated argument with him after a test. He marked an answer wrong on my test that was technically correct. It was a multiple choice question and the correct answer was misspelled which made it an entirely different word. One of the other answers was 'none of the above' which was the one I chose. I thought it was a trick question. Apparently he had warned everyone of this question at a moment I was either not in the room or absent. He wanted to mark the answer as incorrect because I wasn't there to glean the information, and I argued that I shouldn't be held responsible for a misspelled test question since I had studied and not only knew the answer, but also knew how the answer was spelled. On top of that, the answer I chose was actually correct. He disagreed with me, and I disagreed with him in a slightly louder tone. He disagreed again and said he wasn't responsible for the test because he wasn't the one who had written it. I said that I wasn't either and I should get credit because I knew the answer. He said it was my fault that I wasn't in class to hear him tell everyone what the answer was, and I said that would have been a valid point had there not been an answer on the test that was correct given the misspelling. If there hadn't been a valid answer, I would have deduced that it was a misspelling. I further added, that it was ridiculous that there were any misspellings on the tests at all, and that it was extremely unprofessional.

He ended up giving me the two points and then shook my hand as if I was a man that he wanted no more quarrel with. That was kind of cool.

Then came the next class on the reproductive system. Judging by the ever changing hues of purple his face kept turning, I don't think it's his area of expertise. We came upon the term 'sexual intercourse' and he asked everyone what another word for that was. We all looked at him as if he was out of his mind. One girl ventured, 'um...sex?' "Sex?" he said, mockingly. "Come on. Don't you know the biological term? I'll spell it. C-L-O-T-U-S."

I was completely befuddled. "Do you mean C-O-I-T-U-S?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Maybe it's C-L-O-I-T-U-S. Spelling isn't my strong point."

"I don't think there's an L in that word," I said.

"No, I'm pretty sure there is," said he.

"I've never heard of an L in that word. And I've seen that word many times," I insisted brazenly and pointlessly.

"Well, let's look it up," he said smugly.

We whipped out our i-Phones, he looking up his version and me looking up mine.

I was correct, naturally. I tried to soften the blow by telling him there wasn't anything I didn't know about coitus, which I think didn't make him feel better because it made it seem as if he knew nothing by comparison. It's probably true, though.

Jethro's Been Eating His Wheaties

Or rather these new manly vitamins that make him, for lack of a better word, EXTREMELY HORNY.

Now I'm as game as the next wife. I am. Maybe more. But these vitamins don't have a female equivalent and sometimes I need to sleep. The second I get into bed, it's hands, hands, hands. The other night, after futilely defending myself for about 10 minutes, I exasperatedly reverted to cliche.

"You're like a kid in a candy store," I said, to which he replied, "Or a grown man in a pussy store."

You can't block teleporting hands when you're laughing.

New Topic:

Jim Treacher, a lovely, clever boy, and one of my favorite political satirists and just generally funny people of all time ever, got his Top Ten Reasons To Accept That Job Offer From David Letterman read by Mark Levin and Dennis Miller.

He also does funny things with cartoon bubbles.

Really, he's a treasure, especially for the right side of the political spectrum who tend to miss mockable moments in their haste to express outrage.