Thursday, September 30, 2004

A Country To Be Proud Of

I have been watching the debate tonight. Anyone who reads my comments on anyone else's sight knows who I'm voting for. But even though I had decided to not to discuss politics on this blog (I have another blog for that), I want to offer my ringing endorsement (for whatever it's worth) of President Bush.

But what this post is actually about is the debate. In an abstract sense, I was extremely pleased with both of the candidates. I think they were both dignified and I think they both did our country extremely proud. The Bush/Gore debates were ludicrous by comparison.

And I was proud of the country after the Florida debacle last time. I know it wasn't the general consensus, but I thought we were an example to the world of how to avoid a military coup when elections don't go as planned.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm proud of our political system. It will never be perfect, but by God, it's the best one the world has ever had.

Thank you, and may God continue to bless this great land.

I am So Depressed

...over my daughter's school. It isn't anyone's fault. The school is just not being run the way I would do it. I was late bringing Gwennie today. The child is as slow as molassas in January. As I was leaving, they were doing the morning announcements. They had a lady talking in a slow, fake cheery, condescending voice about eating fruits and vegetables. After she played a little game with herself over the loudspeaker (absolutely no one was paying attention), she closed with "...remember to eat your fruits and vegetables and you'll be in shape like an ape!"

So now even the primates are getting more credit than humans for physical fitness.

There are several things that amuse/irritate me.

1. Most of the teachers are fat. It seems as if the indoctrination doesn't work so well.

2. The kids aren't paying attention. What kid is going to listen to some dopey voice over a loudspeaker when there is candy right in front of him?

3. Why aren't they paying more attention to the actual education of the children?

If I was running a school:

1. You wouldn't be tardy until you were an hour late.

2. Gym would be every day and the kids would be separated by physical ability and the classes would be staggered.

3. In Kindergarten, lessons would consist of pretty much what they are doing now, except I would put them in desks instead of at tables.

4. I would teach them more about plants and animals and geography and good manners and less about food.

5. Lunch would be 1/2 hour. Recess would be a whole hour.

This is all just for starters. I really believe that the teacher's unions and the state governments have forgotten the purpose of public education. They are far too focused on passing social issues and not enough on the actual education of children. And that they have no faith at all in parents to teach their children anything.

It is hard to explain the contempt I have for the contempt with which I'm treated as a parent. I have been urged twice now, to have my daughter join the library program, which I won't do. The fines for lost books are $10. I lose books; my daughters lose books. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to amass a children's library in my house, for pennies on the $10. But teachers aren't aware of my home library and only think that I care more about my pocket book than my daughter's education. Nevermind that she is already reading beautifully because of the books we read before she started school. It's just so depressing. I'm not even angry. I just want everyone to stop being so foolish and start being practical.

It doesn't take mountains of tax money to fund the schools. It takes organizations who want to teachers to actually teach, instead of implement social policy.

Truly, with the amount of tax money collected in my city, the children should be peeing in gold toilets and eating lobster for lunch. Something has to be done. The taxpayers have the power, but not the organization. God, I could write for hours about this, but I don't have time. Any comments pro/con are welcome.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Help Me Pick Out A Bra/Choose A Religion

I have to shill for a few products first.

#1 A toilet cleaner called SnoBol. It is incredible. Here in the south mold and mildew grow overnight, and while your toilet may be clean, it is still stained. This here product has removed the stains from my toilet bowl with the bare minimum of effort on my part, and for this, I will give them a little free advertising. Anything that saves me from overexerting myself in this oppressive southern heat will be a permanent staple of my grocery list.

#2 Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning. I'm sure this is known to many people, but I just have to say that I am addicted. I put it on everything from BBQ to my scrambled eggs. It is great stuff if you like a little more spice in your foods. I don't know what spices are in it and I don't care. It is delicious.

Ok. I am considering this bra. It looks hot on the model, but I am hoping I won't end up with dissected breasts. That looks terrible. They are claiming to make it in my size though, so I may give it a shot.

Random Bit of Useless Information: On my songs list there is one by Michael Jackson that reads Michael Jackson - Hold Me (Free Willy). Say it in your head with a Scottish accent.

Thanks for all the kind comments about the girls. They are totally obnoxious and spoiled, but they look so cute that they weasle out of trouble. They are going to cause us no end of grief, but they are so much fun.

I asked the oldest one what she thought she would be when she grew up. She asked, "You mean animal?" No matter how many times I explain it to her, she is laboring under the delusion that she is going to morph into something else when she grows up. Combine this with going to live with Baby Jesus when you die, and you have one wild religion. Leave me alone, I'm doing the best I can. Perhaps we ought to start Sunday School.

In case you may not have guessed, I am definitely a Christian. My parents were Jewish and Protestant respectively, converted to Catholicism, no wait, converted to cultish born-again Christianity, then Methodism, Assembly of God, Episcopalian, non-denominational then Catholicism upon my begging them to just pick one. You pick any sect of Christianity and I will take any odds that I have spent at least one Sunday picking my nose in their respective house of worship.

I have decided, for the time being, to take a hiatus from the Catholic Church to reassess the nature of our relationship. However, I would like to raise my children as Christians. I don't care to discuss my own faith in God, I will only say that I have been helped by it in ways that I couldn't even begin to explain. I have no illusions as to the permanancy of religion in anyone's life, but I'd still like a shot at laying out my best case for the girls. Obviously they may choose something else down the line.

I'm sure I had a deep and vast point, but I'm too tired to ferret it out. I'll leave it to anyone who thinks it is worth it.


Go See Our Girls!!

Jethro, being the genius that he is, has managed to post a picture of our girls on his site. Everyone who won the contest can go see. Everyone else can just...just...oh hell.

Excuse the messy house in the picture. We had just finished decorating the tree. Don't they just look born for trouble?

Pride Goeth Before a Fall

I grew up in a small town in upstate NY. It was on the border of NY and PA in the Catskill Mountains. It was perfect in every single way. We lived on a farm and had our own pond that we skated on in the winter and fished in the summer. We had all kinds of animals and our own vegetable garden. We didn't have the best clothes, or the best toys, but we had our pets, and we grew our own vegetables, and we played outside all the time, roaming all over our 23 acres.

We would find apple trees and pick the apples right off and eat them. We would climb the highest hills and stare off into the valleys below. The most beautiful memory that I have is of climbing a steep hill through the woods during a rare sunshower - where it is drizzling, but the sun is out. We reached the top of the hill where the woods cleared and looked down into a deep valley. There, stretching from the top of the sky to deep in the valley was the most beautiful brilliant rainbow. The end of the rainbow rested on a little white house some 30 miles away.

The town itself was adorable. It was located on a tributary of the Delaware River and was at one time, a railroad town. The tracks ran right through the middle. Almost every building was historical, having been built no later than the 1930s.

Such an ideal town attracts ideological people. Most were the intellectual On Walden Pond types, but with a little bit of Harvard thrown in. My father was one of them. He never graduated college, but he was, without a doubt, a genius. He could hold his own with anyone, from intellectuals, to farmers, to the school janitor. He was just that type of person. My mom on the other hand, was a sweet Indiana lady. She wasn't stupid, but you definitely wouldn't mistake her for an intellectual.

My parents as well as most of the others, loved to discuss the education of their children. Everyone was very keen on giving their children the best they could in terms of education, and many different theories were floated as to how to achieve this goal. I remember one friend of the family who was a Harvard grad, who had made up her mind that there was far too much order in the world of education. She was the type who preferred unconventionality to mundane order, even if it was impractical. She proudly told my mother that she was not going to teach her son the alphabet in the conventional order. There was no reason for the order, she said, except to force children to conform. My mom looked puzzled. And then the sweet, dumb little Indiana lady asked, "But how is he going to look things up in the Encyclopedia?"

Live humbly, and you will never be humiliated.

Monday, September 27, 2004


I saw a program on Discovery Health that left me shaking with rage. The show was Babies: Special Delivery. I am addicted to shows like these ever since I had my kids. I just want to see how many do it without an epidural. Not many. However, there was one lady who went to a Birthing Center - where you won't get any medication unless you have to have an emergency C-section. She and her husband were the alternative medicine types - the ones who tout the superiority of Eastern science over Western science in moronic, cult-like voices.

During labor, it was discovered that there was meconium in the amniotic fluid. Warning: Grossness. For the single, or childless men out there, meconium is the baby's first poopoo. If she does in while still inside her mother, it can be dangerous for the baby when she takes her first breath. If it is inhaled into her lungs, she can develop severe respiratory problems or infections which could result in death. It is just one of those things that can go wrong. Anyway, the baby ended up developing a fever. The doctor recommended anti-biotics right away. The parents argued that the baby had just been swaddled too much and that was the reason for the elevated temperature and that anti-biotics caused more harm than good. The father was studying acupuncture if that tells you anything. So they were risking their newborn's life to possible meningitis, or e. coli because of their untested medical philosophies. They finally allowed bloodwork to be done on the baby just to see if the bacteria levels were elevated. Surprise, they were. Then the morons had the nerve to ask if the test was accurate. Ok. Your baby is exhibiting all the signs of a bacterial infection and the test comes out positive. Do the math. I've never heard of a kid dying from taking anti-biotics, but I have heard of them dying of encephalitis because their parents were too susceptible to every idiotic medical trend to get them the proper care.

Finally, the ham-faced, moonbat of a father allowed the anti-biotic treatment, but not before the fucking idiot stuck his finger in his mouth then stuck it in the baby's mouth. Why? Because that is how African tribes supposedly bond with their babies. You have to wonder that with all of his study of Eastern medicine, WHY HE ISN'T AWARE OF THEIR INFANT MORTALITY RATES!!!!!

I was screaming with rage at the television. I wanted to infect him with e. coli and watch him suffer without anti-biotics just to see how many crystals he would stick up his ass.

Don't get me wrong. I approve of alternative medicine. Jethro is going to be a chiropractor so I darn well better. But Eastern medicine is mostly preventative. Those morons were right up to a point. Anti-biotics are largely overprescribed. There are many natural alternatives to drugs on the market now from cholesterol reducing drugs to anti-depressants that have less or no side effects, and are just as effective. This is all true. But there is a point where none of it will do you any good, and where Western medicine is a dire necessity. At that point, all Eastern medicine will do is prepare you for death, whereas Western medicine will save your life. It may excruciatingly wrench it back from the jaws of annihilation, but your life will be saved. One of those moments is when a newborn, with her delicate immune system, is wracked with fever and is threatened with meningitis. Put aside your elitist bigotry, put your disgusting finger back in your own mouth, and save your daughter. It should be second nature, but some people are so determined to see themselves as mentally superior, that they forego all sanity.

And another thing I've noticed is that white people are the ones subscribing to these moonbat philosophies. Asians have embraced Western medicine. My MIL, who was a midwife in Vietnam, is well aware of Eastern medical techniques. But she is also aware of how children and mothers die because these are the only techniques available. She digs Western medicine.

Anyway, I'm done with this rant. I wanted to use so many more hateful words to describe this father, but I think his behavior will do the talking for me.

Friday, September 24, 2004

And Jethro is......

Asian! Vietnamese specifically. Six people got it right, and I'll give credit to anyone who said Pacific Islander. Racially it's pretty much the same. Silly, I know. Anyway, I figured I had better reveal it in a hurry since Jethro has his own blog now, and probably couldn't keep it a secret for too much longer. I have no idea why anyone guessed white. I wouldn't string you along and tell you we were interracial just to pull a stunt like that. Really!

Racially speaking, we are a pretty uncommon couple. You see a ton of white guy/asian girl couples, but very seldom the other way around. I think it is because most Asian guys are short. I was about the most open-minded person in the world, before I got married. My only shallow physical requirement was that whoever I dated had to be taller than me. That's it. Skinny, fat, ugly, grungy, it didn't matter as long as he was taller. Jeth is 5'11" and 175-180lbs. Not typical especially for Vietnamese. His dad barely comes up to my chin. But he has a cousin who is as tall as he is, and a girl cousin who is 5'9". Our eldest is very tall for her age as well. So must be some height genes in his family. Most other Asians think he's Chinese. I guess they are taller.

Anyway, being married to him is a trip. And I think the mixed race thing has been a blessing. I'm never bored. If it took me the rest of my life, I could never learn all the intricacies and intrigue of Vietnamese culture, so there is always new information for me.

Stereotypes naturally abound, and some of them are accurate. Such as, if you are getting your nails done, and you think the girls are talking about you, they are. Also, they have a secret plan to take over the world. After the Jews. JUST KIDDING!!! Sheesh. Living in the middle of the league of nations, makes it very hard to keep a politically correct tongue in my head (or hand on the keyboard).

Being married to me had had an effect on Jethro as well. Cracker is a hard culture to ignore. He used to be a liberal, or at least he had liberal leanings. I stifled that pretty quick. Now he is more conservative than I am. It's amusing.

The story of how they got here is incredibly cool and dramatic, but I'll save it for another post. Anyway, I'll post pictures soon, but first I have to find one where I don't look like a hag.

I have so much more to write about our whole situation, but I'll save that too.

I would also be glad to answer any questions. And I'll say again, as long as you aren't calling for our lynchings, I don't take offense to anything.

Thanks for playing.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Small Matters

Well, the Guess the Race of Jethro contest is going very well. I'll post the answer tomorrow. I think the it will surprise even the one/those who got it right. I'll have lots more to blog about, as will Jethro.

Well the fat bitch of a prosecutor won't let me off with deferred adjudication for my speeding ticket. I don't care. My friend's father, who is a big-shot major league attorney (and one of the most gracious people you will ever meet) said he would help me out.

I wasn't sure if I should name drop to the prosecutor, so I asked her if she needed my attorney's information. She said, "Why would I?" I said, "I don't know, I'm asking you." She had the nerve to ask, "Is he representing you?" I said, "Why else would I bring it up?" Then she asked me for his information. She didn't even take his number, that's how well known he is to the courts. In your face, you fat bitch.

This prosecutor was around 300lbs. And she intimidated this guy into paying for an insurance violation when he wasn't the one driving. The judge called her up there to ask why she was allowing him to pay a ticket that he was not responsible for. She stammered for a few minutes, then finally said she hadn't noticed that he wasn't the one driving (?!). It didn't look good for her because the guy was black and gangsterish-looking. She came off like the biggest racial profiler and everyone in the court was glaring at her. Served her right.

After they set the pre-trial conference, we left. Jethro had taken the morning off of school just for me, (but probably only because he got laid for it). I love him for it anyway.

If you aren't being charged with anything, the courthouse is an interesting place.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Guess the Race of Jethro

First, keep Trashman and his wife, Jen in your thoughts and prayers. She is having a hard time with her pregnancy and is in danger of losing the baby.

Ok. First off, would it be too tacky to hold a "Guess the Race of Jethro" Contest? I think it probably would, but let's do it anyway. The winner(s) get a picture of my boobs. Just kidding. The winner(s) get a picture of our family (which I have resisted posting up 'til now), which I can't see as being that great a prize, but it's all I have.

Secondly, I just wanted to say that there wasn't any particular reason why I have never mentioned Jethro's race, and this isn't some kind of social experiment, just fun. So don't think I'm scavenging for racists or something.

Allright. The Choices are as follows:

1. White

2. Black

3. Hispanic

4. American Indian/Alaskan Native

5. Asian/Pacific Islander

Good Luck. (Have I just sunk to a new low?)

Monday, September 20, 2004

Things that are bothering me

Our friend, Mason. He is Jethro's former roomate from college. He's a nice enough guy, but he talks incessently about himself. And he doesn't just talk, he brags... and brags... and brags. His presence is becoming more and more tedious to me. WARNING: I am now going to complain in depth about him.

First of all, he called me at work about 6 months ago asking if we would give him back commission money on a lot he and his wife were buying. He said he would take care of everything if he could put my stepdad's name down on the contract and we give him the commission. I asked my stepdad and he said he would give me the commission and just keep enough for fees and taxes. I could do what I wanted with the rest of it. I ended up doing some work for them in negotiating for the lot, but I gave them the whole $1500 check anyway. They were friends, and I figured I'd do them a favor.

But then they decided to ask us to list their house for them, for free of course. I kept putting them off and they are now trying to sell it themselves. It should have sold within 30 days, but it has been on the market for over 3 months now without an offer. Moral: Don't be so fucking cheap.

Now, even though they haven't sold their home, they are building a house on their new lot. Mason can't shut up about it. He talks and talks and talks and talks and talks about every little boring detail. I'm going to cut out his vocal chords and then his tongue for good measure. He insisted on driving us out to see it in the middle of his son's birthday party. It isn't that great. The rooms are too small, he didn't put in a fireplace, it is facing a bad direction, and there aren't enough windows. Whatever. I won't tell him it's crappy, but I'm running out of ways to say how wonderful it is. I hope it burns to the ground.

Mason is also a total mysogenist. If he is talking about manly things such as hunting or fishing, he doesn't like to have women around. Case in point. He, and Corin, and Jethro were hanging out here about a month ago. Jethro had drunk too much and passed out. Mason and Corin were talking on the back patio. I finished up things I was doing in the house and went to join them since Corin was leaving for the army and I hadn't gotten to visit with him. Mason stopped right in the middle of his bragging session and asked me what I was doing out there. Um. It's my fucking yard, fuckhole. The primate actually told me to go back in the house while he was talking to Corin. Corin gave me a pleading look as if to say, "Please don't leave me alone with this idiot." I said that it was late and we needed to get an early start the next day. It took over an hour for Corin and I to herd him out the front door. Our eyes were bloodshot and had glazed over. Our ears were ringing with the neverending monotony of his boastful voice. Finally, FINALLY, he drove off.

I don't like to have him over when we have a large group of people. He immediately separates the males from the females and proceeds to bore the males to tears with his gun collection, fishing gear, outdoor pissing, and general manliness. All those poor guys want is a little female company and there is Mason forcing them to hear all about how Large is the Penis and how Rough the Facial Hair. UGH!!!

I got a call from Mason while I was sick. I told him I was sick and couldn't talk. He said, "Oh, I just wanted to ask you how I could become a real estate agent. I've decided that during the next year, I am going to make a career change."


If he thinks that I've given him $1500 and loads of free advice just to help him become our competition, he can lick my pretty kitty. 'Cuz then Jethro would shoot his ass.

Friday, September 17, 2004


I don't know if we realize the power that we, as bloggers have. I know I didn't. I just wanted to write a little nonsense for my husband. But there is a much greater force out there - one that truly belongs to us - the average person.

In case you haven't been following, bloggers have called out one of the most powerful news agencies in the world on false documents regarding Bush's service in the National Guard. Dan Rather, who can now be officially classified as "crazier than an inmate on corn night," is backpedaling like a cheating husband caught with panties in his pocket.

It doesn't matter whether you believe the report or not. It is journalistically unethical to bring it out based on false evidence. Rather and the CBS liars are now saying that the documents are "accurate, but not authentic." Accurate based on what? Their own opinions? Not fucking good enough. If someone in the government had pulled this, their credibility would be shit, and they couldn't be elected sewage worker.

It is hysterical to hear Rather talking about "deep-rooted partisans" trying to discredit the story. Bullshit there newsboy. Your own lack of integrity has discredited the story. Not to mention the partisans you trotted out to back you up. Why wasn't it noted that every person you trotted out to back up that story has ties to the Democratic Party and even the Kerry campaign itself?

Why the double standard Rather? Do you really think people are too stupid to figure out your prejudices? Well I have news for you, you elitist prick. We are smarter than you think, and now we are connected, and for once in your soon to be finished career, you will have to start telling the truth.

This link is funny - almost Seekeresque:


If they had changed "airplane door" to "bathroom stall" it would have been perfect.

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Lo! Who is that, striding out of the wasteland! It is Zelda, hands clutching a sharpened screwdriver! She cries homicidally:

"I'm going to pound you until time and space have no meaning, and throw you out the airplane door!!"

Find out!
Enter username:
Are you a girl, or a guy ?

created by %20color="#cc00ff" face="times new roman">beatings : powered by

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Here is an email that I sent to a friend of mine in NC.

Dear Missy,

How are you? I heard a rumor that your new house flooded. I'm sorry to hear it. Everything is fine here. The girls are well. Gwennie started school and we've already had a teacher's conference because she is a troublemaker. Emma is a little angel as always. Sings like a bird all the time. Jethro is ok. He just finished his hardest trimester, so we are over the worst of it as far as schooling goes. Now if he can just pass all of his boards. But you know Jethro. You never know how things are gonna go for him. Anyway, just dropping you a line to see how you are doing. Let me know.


"Zelda" (I used my real name)

I got this reply.

Dear "Zelda,"

Who the hell is Jethro?



"Jethro" no longer seeming like an alias. I wonder if that is good or bad. I always did kind of like that name.

I'm still not quite up to snuff. I'm just sweating out the worst of it right now. I hope I start feeling much better tomorrow, but somehow, I think this is going to require a trip to the doctor and a shot of something or other.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

I wasn't going to post today because I still feel like what Trashman refers to as "ass," but I just discovered that someone found my blog by googling "Anal Cirque du Soleil."

That brightened up my really shitty day.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004


I'm sick. My kids are sick. We have the plague. Fever. Sore tight throats. Fever. And I can't get any rest. I was shivering in bed this morning and my baby crawled in with me. She was feverish too. I shamelessly used her as a hot water bottle to warm me up. She is little and soft.

So Jethro has dived right into the realm of the political. Very interesting. Most of our conversations, when we're not coming on to each other, are about politics. Hopefully blogging will give him better arguments because I trounce him regularly. Actually, we pretty much agree politically. It would be very hard for me to be married to someone with whom I disagreed. I think James Carville and Mary Matalin are the weirdest couple to ever grace D.C. Just seeing them makes me think that politics must be a crock of shit.

Anyway, I have to go lay down. My head is splitting and I feel pounds of snot coming on.

Hopefully I'll have something funny to write tomorrow.

Saturday, September 11, 2004


The battle is now joined on many fronts. We will not waver; we will not tire; we will not falter; and we will not fail. Peace and freedom will prevail.

-President George W. Bush
October 7, 2001

Warning: Political Incorrectness and Strong Opinion.

I am tired of hearing where everyone was on 9/11. I am tired of hearing how people felt that day. We were all sad, we were all angry, we were all united. We aren't now. People say that dissension is a good thing - that debate is good for the country. I am going to respectfully disagree. There is a time and a place for dissension and debate. There is a time and a place for unity. Now is the time for unity. There is no reason why we cannot win the war on terror.

There is a bill in Congress which, if signed, would make it a federal offense to burn the flag. I am unequivocally in favor of it. I have heard the free speech arguments, and after long and careful consideration, I have concluded that I don't give a fuck.

I consider an attack on the flag an attack on my home and my country, and I am not willing to sacrifice either in the name of so-called free speech. If you have a problem with my country, I expect you to use your actual freedom of speech, i.e actual words, to discuss your issues. I consider an attack on our flag to be an end to the discussion of whatever is bothering you, because it signals to me that you would rather see your issue prevail than for America to survive. There is no issue so grave that America should not prevail in the end.

Brave people died on foreign soil to defend that flag so that we could live in peace and freedom here. This is often spoke of, but let it never be a cliche. Let's do our part, as Americans, to defend our flag from those who seek to harm it, and not stand by benignly participating in her desecration.

Friday, September 10, 2004

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay

Last weekend, we went fishing in Texas City. It was a really nice trip. His parents watched the kids all day and we went with our friends Benton, Shauna, and Chantrelle.

Shauna is Benton's girlfriend. She is from Puerto Rico. She is very pretty and comes across as very high maintenance. She isn't. Well, she is, but she maintains herself and doesn't expect anyone else to. I thought she would be squeamish about baiting hooks and taking the fish off, but she surprised, no, shocked me. She baited her own hooks, cast out her own lines, and caught more fish than all the rest of us, which she took off the hook herself. I was really impressed. Then kind of jealous. She was wearing black shorts, a sky-blue top, black flip-flops that actually had a little heel to them, and a cute straw sun hat. Contrast that to myself. I was wearing (very old) striped swim suit cover-up pants, an orange bikini top, an old muscle shirt of Jethro's, and a Houston Astro's baseball cap. It is indecent that a girl like her caught more fish than a girl like me. But then, we all caught more fish than Jethro and he had the largest tackle box.

All in all, it was a very pleasant day. I got some sun on my pasty skin (which promptly turned red then evaporated), we drank some beer, and we met a very nice old man who gave us some fishing tips. I came back very relaxed and the following day, everyone came over to our house for a fish fry. Probably the most nicest Labor Day weekend I've ever had.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Jethro's Blog

A little surprise.

Jethro has started a blog. He has never even left a comment on mine. His first entry has shocked me entirely - really steamed my dumplings. I imagine that most of entries will be about the funny stuff that happens in chiropractic school with the occasional male perspective of our sex-life thrown in. I've never thought that Jeth was that literary minded, but he writes erotica better than I do (not that that is saying a lot - I've had servicemen on a year of active duty beg me to stop cybersexing them).

Please check him out and leave some encouragement. Thanks very much.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

The Gang Bang

Oh man. Jethro bought a porn dvd (which is funny in and of itself), and we decided to view it while making the love. I'll admit to a perverted enjoyment of gang-bangs IN THEORY. When actually viewing them, however, they are So Very Stupid. The one we were watching happened to be of Germans defiling their native woods with the most retarded gang bang of all time. Basically it was three men standing around in front of a nekkid girl whacking off. She wasn't even touching them. They were just standing around her head going "Ja! Ja!" and grunting deeply and rapidly. She kept laughing. I was too. Until I had tears pouring out of my eyes. Definitely not conducive to the lovemaking.

It is possible that the sounds coming out of these morons' mouths were actually worse than the images they were creating. I should try to find a way for folks to hear the audio. Irrespective of your personal opinion of porn, it might ease some minds to know that a lot of porn is supremely ridiculous.

She finally started having sex with these stooges (and I mean no disrespect to the original three stooges), and it was the most ridiculous sex I've ever seen. They didn't even take their pants all the way off. She would screw one while the other two stood around with their pants around their ankles, masturbating as if their cars were on fire and that was the only means of putting it out. Actually, one was taking pictures of the intercourse while he was wanking. I guess they were killing all kinds of birds with one stone. The one with the still camera was wearing the dorkiest hat. I can't tell you what a fool he looked with his pants around his ankles, a camera in one hand, his peter piper in the other, and a ridiculous round-brimmed hat on his head. All three of them seemed to place a great deal of importance on the "money shot." They sacrificed everything from dignity (not that there's much in porn, but then why throw away what you have, eh?), to pleasure, to any semblance of believability, to get the shot of each of them in turn slopping splooge all over her face, which she lapped up with Extremely Fake Enthusiasm.

I know Europeans are supposed to be all open and liberated when it comes to sexuality, but please. Or should I say, butt please? I can't see that Americans are so very far behind. In fact, if Europorn is even remotely like this particular one, I'd say we are far ahead in porn artistry .

I know, or at least I think, there is supposed to be a certain etiquette to watching porn with your partner. One of the rules (if you intend to make love) is that you not laugh even when the Germans turn to piggies, or some ho's saline implants start making odd slurping noises. You have to forget about all aesthetic sensibilities and lose yourself to the pure carnality. Can't be done. Not by me. I try very hard to hang with the boys. I want to be all open-minded and cool about porn and strip clubs and fetishes. But I can't sacrifice... well... my eyes, for bad visuals. Sorry Jeth, honey. I'll just have to make due with your own personal splendor to get me where I need to go.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Gone Fishin'

Be back late Monday. Happy Labour Day to all those who labour.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Jeth and Corrin at the Tittie Bar

I'm positively shocked by the first result and moronically flattered by the second.

I'm filled with love tonight. Perhaps it is because I'm completely obliteratedly drunk or because my candidate is going to win the election, or because I;m about to go give Jethro the wettest, deepest blowjob of his short Republican life (formrly a Dem). I could choke I'm so happy. Goddam I'm the happiest drunk on teh planet.

Jeth went to a tittie bar last night. I really am cool about stuff like that. I knew he was going to go before he did. Our friend Corrin (od previous posts) is joining the Army, and the greatest desire of his heart is to see combat. He is the most adorable weirdo - just the type they ought to use for the infantry. I'm terrified for him. And so fucking proud. I knew that they were going to take him to a tittie bar. I mean, that's it for pussy for quite awhile - so where else would they go? The only thing I asked of Jethro was that he call me when they decided that they were going to go there. I just didn't want to be surprised later. I'm cool about it, but I do have to deal with the fact that my husband will be seeing other titties than mine - but fortunately, I know what tittie bars are like, so my imagination doesn't have to run away with me. Forgive this post right now. I'm so drunk.

Anyway, the boys started out at a sushi bar (they're all Japanatics) and ended up at a tittie bar that was formerly known as The Pink Pussycat. I know- subtle. Let the comparisons commence.

One thing that will endear strippers to me forever is that they know how to take care of a guy going off to the army. They took him onstage and beat his ass with belts. Could you ask for a better send-off? Serioously though, they all came up to him and thanked him - even the DJs and bartenders. Whatever one may think of strippers, you can't deny that they know who provides their freedom. Not the bureaucrats (sp?) but the soldiers.

I will write a post about our boys and girls when I'm sober enough to do them justice, but this post is for Corrin and the strippers who know the score.

Night Yall,

Zelda, aka Slightly Drunk Republican Slut