Wal-Mart

After reading my last post, I just want to thank everyone who posted a comment. That was a lot of self-congratulations to slog through.

I like Wal-Mart. Yes, I do. The corporation can go hang itself, but I love shopping there. There is no better place to people watch.

There are two Wal-Marts both within 3 minutes of where I live. One is Yuppie-Mart, and one is Ghetto-Mart. I like Ghetto-Mart best. I also only go between 11 pm and 3 am. I have insomnia. When Jethro and I used to live in town, there were any number of coffee shops and diners that were open all night. Out here in suburban limbo, there is only Wal-Mart. So I pay them a visit whenever I can't sleep. Aside from finding things I want at sweatshop prices, I like watching the people that crawl in.

Gangs of boys, red-eyed and high on pot, wander dreamily through the grocery section looking for snacks. Half of them don't wear shoes.

The Mexican workers torture the one little old white lady on shift by directing every English-speaking person to her when they can't find something.

There are bleary-eyed parents who have forgotten that one little item for their kid's lunchbox that they just have to have. They probably overpay at the register.

Girls, in all stages of hoochie, eye the red-eyed boys and buy still more clothes that their mothers shouldn't let them out of the house in. The red-eyed boys make comments. The girls take them in stride.

Then there are the high-school couples. I never know what they're buying, but I'm always pretty sure they've just finished some business in the backseat. They guys affect nonchalance and the girls look at them affectionately and try to squeeze their hands into the back pockets of their wranglers. They have trouble if there's a comb back there.

I heard the most beautiful thing there. I was looking for tights for the girls' ballet class when I heard the most amazing voice. One lady, all alone, was singing to the Muzak. I can't even remember what the song was, maybe Celine Dion or Whitney Houston. She didn't jazz it up or sing it gospel. She sang every note high and clear and perfect. I didn't think she would have noticed me, but I hid anyway. After the song was over, she stopped. Perhaps it was because they started playing Shania Twain. Anyway, it was a rare moment. Amid all the excesses of the chubby hoochie girls and the men who love them, was one clear voice redeeming all of our existences.

More on Being Married (Which Includes Sex)

I was asked by someone a few months ago why mine and Jethro's marriage is so good. I'm sure I gave some simple-minded answer like, "head." But I've been pondering the question for awhile. We had so many strikes against us. We were way too young (I was 22, Jeth was 24). I was pregnant (never a good reason to get married). We were from completely different cultures. And we were completely broke.

There are several factors in keeping our marriage together.

1. Neither of us uses sex to get what we want.

It is completely off the table. Actually sometimes it's on the table, but only on special occasions.

2. We have sex frequently.

When we first got married, I was really sick from being pregnant. I threw up so much I almost detatched my retinas. I also lost an obscene amount of weight. It is a miracle that my kids were healthy. And of course after the baby comes, sex is kind of on hiatus for awhile. But it was always a goal of mine to get back into it. I figured that if we were single, we'd be getting it regularly, and I wasn't ready to give it up at 23, especially since I'd only been having it for a little over a year. So, even if I didn't quite feel up to it, I did it anyway. Eventually, it was less a chore than it was an addiction.

3. Jethro never pressured. Ever. I discussed with him how I felt about post-marital sex, in that I really wanted to resume an active sex-life but just to give me a little time for the old hormones to finish fluctuating. He was awesome. He took me completly at my word and never even asked. After I had the second, I was really frustrated and upset because I wasn't bouncing back as fast as I thought I should. Jeth just said, "Calm down, honey. It's just hormones. Give it a little more time and you'll be fine. He now has his reward.

4. The kids don't take priority over our sex-life.

I know that sounds harsh and selfish, but in the long run I think we're doing them a favor. Kids thrive the best in two-parent households, and we're keeping the two-parent household together. You aren't doing your kids any favors by placing their temporary wants or desires over your marital sex-life. Obviously we would postpone intercourse if they were on fire or something, but if all they want is pretzels or juice, it can wait until after we're done. It is a little harder when they're very small, but you have to realize that some crying never hurt them, and that their needs will not go unmet. Think of it as putting on your kid's oxygen mask after you put on yours. Please don't any of the mom's get on my case. My kids are fine and happy and we love them.

Also, it is hard to enjoy your kids if you resent them. Moms don't face this problem as much as dads do. The old maternal instinct usually kicks in for moms. But dads, without the love hormones, remember and miss a time when you could just pick up and go. Or drop everything and fuck on the living room floor. Good times. If he feels as if none of that is ever going to happen again and worse, that his wife has no interest in that ever happening again even on a smaller scale, he can get resentful. And I really don't blame him. I don't blame moms either, but I definitely don't think sex should be shelved after you have kids.

5. Jethro and I have so many things in common

In case it has escaped anyone's attention, Jeth and I share similar political views. I brought him around to my way of thinking. It was work, but it was worth it. We also like, no love, food. We will try anything at least once, and aside from sex, it is a central part of our lives.

6. We have quite a few seperate interests.

I like to read. Which is quite an understatement. Reading is as close as I get to religion these days. Jethro reads when required to.

Jethro loves paintball. I am ambivalent at best.

Jethro loves guns and shooting them. I am terrified by them.

I like home projects. Jethro doesn't like spending the money.

Zelda's Proverbs: Ladies, the same force that doth polish the knob, doth also grease the family wallet. Now before I piss off any of the gentlemen, I'm not advocating that ladies use sex to get what they want. I'm just advocating a new perspective on the golden rule.

But Jeth and I both learn things from each other and really try to make the other happy. We both genuinely like each other as friends and want the best for each of us. Sure we get on each others' nerves. Quite often. But none of that is going to make us kick over our marriage.

Only cheating, abuse, child-molestation, or a criminal act resulting in someone's death would cause us to get divorced. But since we don't have any murderous or pedophilic tendencies that I am aware of, I think we are safe.

This post is way too long, and forgot to mention what a strong role both of our families played, and I wrote it mostly just to get some thoughts straight in my own head. Don't anyone take this as preaching or anything. This is just my own perspective on my own marriage which is going quite well.

A neighbor boy who is in first grade has a crush on our Gwennie, who is in Kindergarten. He wrote her a letter that went:

DEAR GWENNIE,

I DON'T WANT YOU TO MARRY ANY BODY BUT ME.

LOVE, TOMMY

I read the letter to her and asked if she wanted to marry him. She said, "Sure, he's my brother."

Not having any idea how to respond to that, I let the matter drop.

The other day, I was driving the little boy, his brother, and Gwennie to school. Gwennie, with her characteristic candor said (at full volume), "HA HA - YOU WANT TO MARRY ME, DON'T YOU, TOMMY"

That poor kid turned tomato red. He looked at me pleadingly, silently begging me to shut-up my daughter. No way in hell. It was too damn funny. I was enough of a good sport to pretend I didn't hear, though. And even though she totally humiliated him, he still likes her.

Ok, so I was a little drunk

I was a little drunk last night when I blogged about the debate. I read over my last post and felt as if I had just woken up next to an ugly, naked woman after a night on the town. And seeing as how I'm not gay....

I am, however a fool. I just realized with a sick sense of doom that I have been emailing other bloggers with an email address that reveals my full name.

Inanna I completely trust, if for no other reason then that she wouldn't want to give Wiccans a bad name.

Jay cares naught for serial killing, as he is too busy trying to find a doctor who will remove his ribs so he can lick Big Jay at will.

Trashman seems to have renounced a life of crime and sin (well maybe not sin) and is now best friends with a cop.

And Seeker wants me to worship him as a god. That would be problematic if I were not living.

If I am found dead suddenly, I'm leaving this entry as a clue. But aside from me being the victim, wouldn't that be the coolest murder mystery?

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.

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 like...an 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.

G'Night.

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.

Alternatives

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.

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.

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.

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?)

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."

FUCK HIM IN HIS PRECIOUS MAN-HOLE!!!

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.

THE POWER OF THE BLOG

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:

http://jimtreacher.com/archives/000958.html

THANKS TO SEEKER FOR THIS.

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

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.

Love,

"Zelda" (I used my real name)

I got this reply.

Dear "Zelda,"

Who the hell is Jethro?

Love,

Missy

"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.

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.

Yuck

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.

REMEMBER

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

GOD BLESS AMERICA

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.

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.

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.

http://chirotechnics.blogspot.com

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 one....to 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.

Gone Fishin'

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

Jeth and Corrin at the Tittie Bar

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

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

Zone d'Erotica

This is the name of a kink store the size of a Super Wal-Mart. I believe it is a franchise.

The one I passed by was located in North Houston between Beaver Springs Rd and Butte Creek Pkwy. I couldn't make this shit up.

Houston has some really stupid street names. Either the folks who came up with them were sheltered and religious, or they thought people were stupid. Or they were stupid. Here is a small sample. Judge for yourself:

Morning Wood
Knotty Wood (my personal favorite)
Gaywood (I swear to god)
Guywood
Governor's Wood (?!!!!)
Shagwood
Riderwood
Jaywood (in honor of...)
Smiling Wood
Beaver Wood
Beaver Lodge
Beaver Bend
Beaverhollow
Wunderlich
Sugar Bush
Spice Bush
Red Bush
Stone Bush

I think I like Sugar Bush and Knotty Wood the best. Gaywood is in one of the most prestigious sections of Houston where homes sell in the millions. Can you imagine paying 2 million dollars to live on a street called Gaywood?

Dirty Old Man

Jethro told me this story the other day.

I guess they were swapping relative stories, but his friend, Brett, started telling him about his uncle. Brett's family lived in a small town where everyone knew each other and talked about each other. His uncle, apparantly, gave everyone alot to talk about because he was the horniest old man west of the Mississippi. He wore out 5 wives who all hated him, spent an untold fortune on prostitutes and strippers, and was generally a reprobate.

Even as he got older his libido did not wane. His last wife was a small, quiet, mail-order, Asian lady. She didn't have much to say, so everyone figured that he kept her pretty busy. One day, the EMTs were called to his house where he had suffered a massive heart attack while copulating with his Asian wife. As they loaded him on the gurney, his wife, dressed in only her bathrobe, shaking her tiny fist, shouted after him, "I tol' you you fuck too much, old man. Now you die!"

I have no idea if the humor of this story translates to the written word, but when I heard it, I laughed until I couldn't breathe. Here's to hoping it was funny. Clink.

A Bit O' Me

Poor Jethro. Because of the holy, sacred, eternal bonds of matrimony, he has to live with me.

When I was 15 and 16, my uncle, my grandfather, and my father in that order, all died within 6 months of each other. My uncle died of alcoholism, my grandfather died of liver/pancreatic cancer, and my father died of a bone marrow transplant he had received for leukemia. It was, understandably, the worst period of my life. I wish I could say now that I was strong and brave, but I wasn't. I handled it as badly as anyone could have. I was a horror to my mom, and about the only good thing I did was get 2 jobs and take care of my youngest sisters. I had been homeschooled so that I could stay with my youngest sisters while my mom stayed with my dad. I continued to be homeschooled after he died because my mom still needed the help, and I was pretty far behind in school. I resented my mother for every second of it. I would have resented my father too, but he was dead. I used to walk down the street from one of my jobs which was answering phones at our Church, praying that someone would drive down the road and randomly shoot me in the head.

Fast forward 6 years. I had gone to college both in Houston and New Hampshire, I had gone to Italy for a semester, and I had started dating Jethro, whom I'd met when I was 17 while he was dating my best friend Micky (of previous posts). I had adored him in a friendly way since I had first met him. I thought Micky was the luckiest girl in the entire world, and it confused me that she took him so very much for granted.

After I'd gotten back from Italy, Jethro and Micky had gone through an ugly break-up, and were both dating other people. I started having a few flings here and there and these included Jethro, even though he was dating someone else. I think Jethro'd had a humongous crush on me for a long time. Each time I'd hook-up with him, I would tell him that we could never EVER do that again. I just couldn't get past the thought that he was my best friend's ex. But I couldn't keep away from him. Finally though, I decided that I liked him enough to pursue a relationship and the hell with what anyone thought. I was going through hell with my family because they are all bitches, so I moved in with Jethro. I flashed him right before I asked if I could, and he said yes instantly.

This led to the most debauched period of my life. My childhood morals were cast thoroughly aside and my life was consumed with nothing but sex, martinis, sex, new restaurants, sex, margaritas, and more sex.

It was about 6 months into our relationship when I realized that I was in love with him. I will never forget the moment. Up until then, I had been content with a pretty casual relationship. I know now that it wasn't casual at all - we were totally wrapped up in each other, but I struggled to maintain some kind of independence, as in - I don't have to answer to you and vice versa. It was bogus, because we rarely left each others' side, but there you have it.

I had taken a babysitting job for my boss and was away from Jethro for two nights. I had just gotten the kids to bed and was sitting in the living room, when I realized how much I was missing him, which quickly turned into the realization that I was in love with him. I actually cried. I had no idea what to do with the emotion. I had always thought that love was supposed to come first, dating second, marriage third, sex fourth, babies fifth. I was all mixed up. He had told me that he loved me sometime before that and I had said that I did too, but I was fighting it. Now, I could say it and mean it, and we haven't stopped saying it since.

Since we were having sex three times a day, it probably wouldn't surprise anyone to know that I got pregnant shortly thereafter. We weren't ready - still aren't - but what could we do? We had no reason not to get married. We loved each other. Even if we couldn't afford a baby (which we couldn't) all they really need is two parents who love them, right?

So we got married, which was a total fiasco. I'll write about it another time. The wedding reception was about the only good part.

So we settled down and had our Gwennie. It was really hard. I can see how people end up divorced. Resentment starts right after you have a kid, and if you don't diffuse it, you will end up divorced. Just before we got married, Jeth and I had a talk about it. I didn't want to be a nagging wife and I didn't want him to be a silent, morose husband. We made an agreement that we wouldn't nit-pick, or sweat the small stuff, or power play. Marriage was tough enough without those pressures. It was the best thing I have ever done. I don't know about Jethro, but for my part, it was a relief to know that we wouldn't be having power struggles or mind games.

After the baby came, there was the temptation to debate who had the hardest job. As far as I'm concerned, this stems directly from lack of sleep. Whoever wins this power play gets uninterrupted, blissful slumber. It is a high-stakes game that NO ONE CAN WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won't lie and say that we didn't go there a few times. You can't help it. Lack of sleep makes you cunning and desperate. But we made it through. And (to quote every R&B artist who ever graced this earth) I thank God in Heaven. The glory goes to Him.

I like to think that God gave me Jethro. He wasn't of my race or religion, but he was what saved me. Maybe God felt that I had suffered enough for things that I'd had no control over, and that there was no need for me to suffer more through my own bad decisions. So when I thought I was rejecting Him to live a life of sin with Jethro, it was really His hand guiding Jethro to me.

More Kid Stuff

I walked out into my living room the other night, and Gwennie and Emma were sitting on the floor amidst thick clumps of dark brown hair. I looked at Emma (the baby) and she was missing a chunk from the right side of her head. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm sowwy mommy," Emma sobbed. There was nothing to be done but sweep up the dear little curls as I wept. But wait. Baby's hair isn't curly. And it isn't thick. And if she had cut this much off of her head she would be completely bald. What the hell?

I examined the hair more closely and followed the trail to the real victim - one of their dolls. Whew. I felt eyes boring into the back of my head. I turned around and Gwennie was looking at me. "We just gave her a haircut because it was too long and curly." My eldest has something against long and curly hair. She had cut her own hair which had been long with beautiful little waves in it. I was so upset because my hair had always been stick straight. She was not wise to bring up her dislike of long, curly hair to me.

My daughters are a handful. Actually, Gwennie is a handful. She is so exasperating and funny. She has the energy of fifty mice on speed. She goes and goes and goes until she collapses in exhaustion. She will annoy you until you are just about to pop her one and then she says something so unbelievably funny that you can't do it. She is very pretty and little boys are already starting to beat each other up over who gets to play with her. It happened at her birthday party. She wanted to play with little boy #1 who smugly lorded it over little boy #2. Little boy #2 then proceeded to jump and pound little boy #1. Very Scary.

Emma is completely different. She is soft and sweet and shy. It takes alot to get her upset, but when she does, look out. Demon Posession. Baby Emma has her admirers as well. They told me at her nursery school that there was one little boy who was in love with her. He'd hold open doors for her, he hugged her all the time, and while she was taking a nap one day, he stood by her mat with his arms full of toys, waiting for her to wake up. She is heartbreakingly sweet.

Alright. Enough about my kids. Strangely enough, I don't like to write about them. I feel like I'll turn into one of those obnoxious moms who do nothing but talk about how great their kids are to the point where even the kids think she's full of crap. I hate it when people do that, so I try to avoid it as much as possible, but sometimes I like to write a little about them so we'll have it to look back on. Or if they do something funny. Like throw up on our brand new, queen size, pillow top mattress.

I'm going to KILL JP.

My two day dry spell was broken last night and it was quite lovely except for one slight glitch.

When I start having sex, my mind flips through it's roladex of kinky ideas and focuses in on one, until I get good and going and then my mind goes blank and I am reduced to primal....... Nevermind.

Well, as I was flipping throught the mental roladex, the completely unbidden and unwanted image of JP shagging a shag carpet between a girl's legs came to mind. Complete with splooge puddle. http://xjone.blogspot.com. It almost cost me dearly. I had to laugh, and start all over. Very annoying.

Rodeo Sex

Forgive me if you have heard of this before. It was new to me and I heard several variations in one night. This was the best.

1st Guy: You ever had rodeo sex?
2nd Guy: What's rodeo sex?
1st Guy: When you're doing a girl from behind, grab her by the hair and whisper in her ear, "You are so fucking ugly," and see how long you can hold on.

Aside from being a little nauseating, it was hysterical. None of the girls I was with had heard the joke. Every guy had his own personal variation.

It constantly amazes me how guys keep up with stuff like that. I consider myself pretty aware of slang, dirty jokes, etc. - at least on par with Jethro. I figured that after 5 years of marriage, and with the amount of "sharing " that we do, we would at least be on the same page. Not so. Someone had emailed me a dirty picture of a drunk woman, legs spread, without panties, sitting between two men in a golf cart. I forgot what the point of this was, but the caption referred to her "bacon strip." I know. Ew. Anyway, as an experiment, I asked Jethro (who was in the next room) what "bacon strip" meant. He walked into the room, grinning. He didn't even have to see the picture to know exactly what I was talking about.

I really believed that I thought about sex as much as a guy. I don't think that is true, and if it isn't, it is scary since I think about sex constantly.

Ah well. There is no point to this at all.

New Topic:

Jethro is ill. He thinks he has an ulcer. His stomach really bothers him after he eats and when the girls come into the room. Just the sight of them makes his stress level elevate and this translates into crippling stomach pain

Now, I don't want to seem insensitive to Jethro's pain, because I know he is hurting, but I'm horny. I think he could work through the pain and do it anyway, but I'm not that insensitive. However, if this keeps up, I will start to get a little desperate. I already had an erotic dream last night. I can't remember what it was, but I woke up happy. I wish I could remember.

If this goes on much longer, I will have to get myself a new boy. I'm not working to put a man through school and then be denied my justly deserved sexual gratification. I only married him for the sex (and vice versa).

Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Me

1. Robin Hood is my favorite Disney movie

2. I was pregnant before I was married.

3. I've never mentioned Jethro's actual race/ethnicity.

4. I've never graduated college.

5. I've attempted to receive anal sex. It did not go well.

6. I've done a lot of travelling.

7. Bacon is my favorite food. I could eat 15 pieces in a row.

8. I'm not crazy about chocolate.

9. David Bowie in Labyrinth was my first movie star crush. I never told anyone.

10. I've been in love 3 times.

11. I secretly think it is funny when kids swear.

12. I could read when I was 3.

13. I always wanted dark hair.

14. I've picked out blog names for my daughters that I will use from here on out. Eldest will be "Gwennie" and Baby will be "Emma."

15. I love my sisters more than I let on.

16. I think most celebrities are idiots.

17. I'm still "best friends" with my best friend from 4th grade.

18. I will never speak kindly to or of my former best friend from Houston.

19. I can hold a grudge.

20. If I receive an apology, the grudge will be forgotten instantly.

21. I prefer comfort to style, but I'm happiest when I can achieve both.

Undone

Once in awhile I get in the mood to hear "Undone" by Robert Earl Keen. It is a good song.

While I was at work, I pulled up Kazaa and clicked on it.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE, UNCLE FUCKER."

Just for reference, I work out of my parent's house. One of my idiot sisters, knowing that I like that song and play it every so often, decided that it would be a real riot to change the name of Southpark's Uncle Fucker song to Undone by Robert Earl Keen.

My mom was standing right there, and when she was through beating me over the head, I turned it off. So much for my moment of zen.

Family Matters:

My family has a tumultous past and I have a terrible temper. I have been known to pound on my sisters occasionally when they needed it. Don't waste your pity. They are stupid bitches.

Anyway, the last real fist fight I had gotten into with my sisters was about a week before my wedding. I was pregnant (naturally) and sick as a dog. I was lying on my mom's bed trying not to throw up, when my completely obnoxious sisters decided to bounce on it for fun. I asked them to quit it and they proceeded to taunt me and bounce harder. I grabbed them both by the hair and pulled them out of the room. They decided that beating up their pregnant sister was somehow in their best interest, so they did. I had a bruise on the side of my mouth which, fortunately was hidden my makeup for the wedding photos.

In spite of the violence, we aren't exactly a trashy family. Basically I'm the only one who is really violent. It comes from being the oldest and having to maintain order. I am a perfect lamb if you are polite. But if you push that one button, you will wish you hadn't.

My sister Wraith pushed the button yesterday at the Katy Mills mall. She is sixteen and is the worst combination of self-righteous Christian/Punk. She is petulant and selfish and if you hear her whiny voice for more than 10 seconds, you will want to shove her face in the ground until her teeth snap off. She has a special talent for annoying everyone in a room simultaneously. She breaks out into manic screams when she does not get her way, or if she thinks her contestant is going to lose on American Idol, or if a squirrel runs by.

So out of the kindness of our hearts, Jethro and I decide to take her, my two youngest sisters, and our two daughters to the mall. It was a rainy day, the ground at my parent's house was wet, and the car got stuck in the mud. We finally extricated it and left. I was already in a bad mood.

Wraith, started an argument with me in the middle of the mall. I was carrying my youngest and trying to keep everyone together while she argued with me at the top of her moronic lungs. I don't even remember what it was about, I just wanted her to shut up. While she was going on and on, waving her arms and screaming like a lunatic, I snapped and whacked her across the back of the head. Now, I shouldn't have done that, even though it was richly deserved. Even Jethro, who is the most even-tempered, judicious person in the world said his palm was itching to pop her one. But I shouldn't have done it. She let out a yelp like a dog that had been hit by a car and started running away bawling.

I was so close to letting her go and just enjoying time with the other kids, but the thought of having to look for her later and spoil the entire evening for the rest of us was suddenly more than I could handle. I handed the baby to someone, took off after her, and grabbed the back of her shirt. I guess I was angrier than I thought, because when I yanked it back, she let out a gagging noise. I dragged her back to where everyone was, in front of the entire mall, and told her not to fuck up everyone's evening. She was crying like a two year old and screaming to everyone in sight that I had hit her. I figured that if security were going to come, I would give them something to come for. I yanked her into the restrroom, threw her into a stall, told her that if she screwed up everyone's night, I was going to kill her when we got home. I told her that once we were home, I would drag her outside and bang her head into a wall until she was dead. I would bury her at a spot that is about to be cemented over, and I would tell everyone that she'd ran away (she's done it before). She believed me. I think everyone in the restroom believed me. I left the bathroom, the mall patrons parting for me like the red sea, and Jethro calmed her down enough to eat.

Her obnoxiousness continued through the night, and I have decided that I will have nothing more to do with her until she learns better behavior.

Writing about it isn't cathartic. The more I think about it, the more I want to finish the job. God help my own kids if they ever pull that shit.

...And Speaking of Jethro

For anyone who might not be aware, Jethro is in Chiropractic School. I hesitate to say that I prodded him into it (lest I sound like and evil, manipulative, gold-digging wife), but I did. This is advantageous to me on three separate fronts. One, I have back problems. Large breasts = compressed vertebrae. Secondly, it is a good profession. You aren't trying to climb a corporate ladder and have some flexibility in your hours as well as a measure of job stability. Thirdly, Jethro is good at it and happy doing it. And when he is happy, I am happy and reverse it.

I also have neck problems. This has nothing to do with the boobs, but is due to the fact that I wake up every morning with my head pushing into the headboard for all it's worth. I am guessing that I have bad dreams and end up compressing myself against it in fear. Every morning, the top of my head is sore and my neck is all out of whack. I discussed a plan with Jethro for keeping me from damaging myself further. He suggested that I scoot way down, far from the headboard, and rest my face in his crotch. With a straight face. I admire that.

I'm settling down some about the school lunch program. I am still going to protest it, but I've decided against rioting. I have to admit, it would have been an amusing sight to see little lone me chanting on the streets of Austin, setting fire to things, getting maced, then attacked by police dogs. The One Woman Riot. OOOOOO. That should have been my blog title. Damn.

The Blow Job

Late last night, when the house was still, I wiggled under the covers to give Jethro a little head while he was sleeping. I slid his boxers down and took him in my mouth, feeling him grow harder and longer as it went deeper and deeper into my throat. He moaned in his sleep and I began to go faster, sucking it all the way back and lapping at it with my tongue. I held it tight in my mouth, swallowing as hard as I could, thinking about what a talented bitch I was, when suddenly, YECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! BLECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!!

Jethro awoke with a major hard-on to the romantic image of his wife on all fours, back arched, spitting and retching like a cat with a hairball. It seems that through my own carelessness, a pubic hair had lodged itself in the back of my throat. It was so far back it had cleared my tonsils. I was pretty sure I was going to die - drowned in my own vomit. Jethro kindly walked out, with Mr. Jethro at full staff, and got me a glass of water. Operations resumed at a much more cautious pace.

I Hate School/The Good Wife

"When thee asks or suggests, I am like putty in thy hands, but when thee forbids,thee is barking up the wrong tree."
~Gary Cooper/"Friendly Persuasion"

This pretty much sums up how I feel about the public school system in general. I got a letter from the school about the new dismissal plan. This line stands out:

"Parents will not be allowed to walk up to the front door area to pick up their child."

Oh yeah, says who? I realize that the district has moronically decided to dismiss all the classes at the same time instead of staggering them and this causes unbelievable traffic and confusion, but the arrogance of that statement is infuriating. They don't offer an explanation or an apology for the inconvenience, just demands, forbiddance and non sequiturs. I feel like a fucking sheep (not to be confused with fucking a sheep). I pay enough in taxes that picking up my daughter off the roof doesn't seem like an unreasonable request.

Onto more interesting things.

I've been getting to bed so late and getting up so early that Jethro's and my lovemaking schedule has been thrown off. With Jethro studying for his hardest finals, it has been more compulsive than ever - twice in the evenings and another at around 3am. I am always more than happy to oblige since I'm usually the one asking, but last night at 3am, I was so tired I just couldn't do it. I told Jethro that he was more than welcome to have at, and he did. I didn't do much except limply hug him.

Now I know that some women do this all the time, but it is a rare thing for me. I can only recall one other time when I just let Jeth do what he wanted. It was weird. After he was all done, he said, "I can't believe you let me do that." I mumbled something like no problem and went back to sleep. I can't tell if I'm a really good wife, or if I have a really huge guilt complex. Probably both. At least he's grateful.

The MORONS in Austin and Happy Birthday To My Gwennie

The "Whiter Shade of Pale" question remains open, but hope is dwindling

It is my Eldest's birthday today. She is 5 years old. I dropped her off at school and asked her teacher what I could bring as a treat for the class. I received a politically correct jolt. Apparently, Texas has a new rule that forbids parents to bring in cupcakes, candy, cookies or anything else remotely delicious. Here is the list of food that I am allowed to bring to celebrate my child's birthday. See if you can stick a candle into any of it.

Fruit juice; Fruit smoothie; Milk, non-fat or low-fat (plain or flavored); Bagel (1/2); Graham crackers (4 pc = 28g); Animal crackers (10 pc = 26g); Wheat crackers; English muffin (whole wheat); Flavored rice cakes (15g); Mini rice cakes, flavored (~10 pc); Fig Newtons (2 pc = 1 oz = 28g); Fruit or grain muffin (low-fat) (3oz); Dry cereal, individual servings; Pretzels (1 oz = 28g); Baked tortilla chips (1oz = 18 pc); Salsa (3 T & 1.5oz.); Vanilla wafers (5 pc = 20g); Seasonal fresh fruit (1/2 C); Carrots, broccoli, cauliflower (1/2 C); Low-fat dip or salad dressing (1T); Fruit snacks (1 oz.); Frozen low-fat yogurt (1/2 C = 72g); Low-fat string cheese (1 oz.); Fruit/grain bars (37g); Frozen fruit bars (3 fl oz = 92g); 94% fat free popcorn (3.8C); Fruit, nut &/or grain trail mixes (1 oz. = 28g); Peanut butter & crackers; Fruit pico (1/2 C); Corn on cob with paprika or chili powder

What the fuck on the last one. Can you see a bunch of kindergartners bouncing in anticipation for corn on cob with papRI-ka? I am so angry over this that I can't type fast enough or find the words to convey my extreme irritation. Why, you ask? Because it's what is wrong with our government from the local to the national level.

Let me make my case. We live in a free country. No one has the goddam right to tell me what I can and cannot put into my own child's mouth. I mean how fucking arrogant. You, parents, are too stupid to feed your kids well, so we, government, are going to force your children to give up pizza parties, birthday cupcakes, and bake sales. Theses idiots actually refer to bake sales as "competitive food" - meaning they're evil and must be aggressively dealt with so the poor fat children will not be tempted by the cookies instead of the tofu. So what does our extremely progressive government do? It bans them. Actually, it severely restricts them to times when kids are the least likely to buy them. So forget the class trips now too. Oh, and forget any revenue coming in from lunch sales. I would rather feed my kids bacon with cheese 'n ice cream than the shit they're serving in the cafeteria. Oh, and lunch today was hamburgers. Very fucking healthy. I guess it is alright for the state to feed your kids crap, but just you try to do it and watch what happens. What's next? Soilent Green?

I blame both parties. I blame the libs for starting the whole stupid thing, and I blame the conservatives for not standing up to them and telling them they are full of shit. I love the classic lib argumet to anyone who suggests that, perhaps, the government has no business telling parents how to raise their kids. "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT CHILDREN. YOU ARE ADVOCATING CHILD ABUSE. It's like arguing with a religious nut, except without the personal morals. And Republicans knuckle every time. It has gotten so bad, that our Republican controlled Texas State Legislature has come up with this specific form of idiocy ON THEIR OWN!!. And what sucks for them is that they aren't going to get any credit for it. No one votes for Republicans because they're going to help slim down the poor little fat kids. You vote for a Republican if your taxes are too high, or if you think the government is too big, or the Democrat is mired to his ears in scandal ({cough} McGreevey), or you feel like kicking a little ass.

I am totally disenfranchised. The Republicans suck, the Democrats are worse, and the Libertarians, who might have actually had something intelligent to say on the subject, would rather snort weed killers and fuck transvestites.

I try to take a pragmatic approach to politics. If there is a great good that will be served, or there are lives in danger, I would permit a little government intrusion. But for crying out loud. Kids, despite their occasional pizza parties and crappy lunches, don't eat that much in school. The vast majority of eating and sitting is done at home. Poor little fat boy is not going to become magically slim by denying his class a bake sale and pizza party. If you think that it will, you are an arrogant moron. If you think it won't and deny them anyway, you are a big fucking hypocrite who prefers to look good instead of do good. If the government really wanted to keep people from eating too much, they would force the television stations to shut down from 3pm onward.

I'm done with the subject for now, but I am most definitely going to get a petition going if there isn't one already. I will personally take it to Austin and I dare the hippies to try and stop me. Vengeance will be MINE!

Whiter Shade of Pale

I am hopeless when it comes to poetry. This includes song lyrics. I can't interpret them for the life of me despite my slaving away at a Lit major. I know people say that it means something different for everyone, but that, in my opinion and if you'll pardon the expression, is bullshit. There is a meaning behind those words. Possibly two or three, but I'll be damned if I can discover even one. Poetry just seems so personal.

That all being said, I can't hear the song, "Whiter Shade of Pale" without getting choked up. I have no idea what the words mean. Every time I hear it my throat gets tight, my eyes start burning, and I feel humiliated that a song that I don't understand has moved me to such emotion.

It is listed among love songs, but for some reason, I don't think it is one. So I'm appealing to anyone with an instinct for poetry to help me out.

A Whiter Shade of Pale
~Sung by Procul Harum
~Words by Keith Reid

We skipped the light fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
as the miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly,
turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, 'There is no reason
and the truth is plain to see.'
But I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be
one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might have just as well've been closed

Thanks.

The Luckiest Bastard on Earth/How I Quit Smoking

Our friend Corin is here. He and Jethro are really good friends. He was almost in our wedding, but was late and missed it. He cried.

Anyway, I like him very much. He also happens to be the luckiest bastard on the planet. Case in point: He went into a study abroad program when he was in college. He went to England. While he was there he met a cute, uninhibited girl named Jane. Jane bonked him in his dorm room, on the metro, and in a restroom. He liked Jane alot. He wanted to show Jane a good time. Unfortunately, he was broke. Fortunately, his parents had given him a credit card to use in case of a dire emergency. He checked the card limit. It was 10K. He decided that ferrying Jane around in a BMW convertible, having sex with Jane in a 5 star hotel suite and eating caviar with Jane afterwords qualified as a dire emergency. They lived it up. He checked the balance again. It was $0. He had to face the music. With growing dread, he returned to the states.

Corin came home and began feeling ill. He went to the doctor, and after a series of tests, he was diagnosed with thyroid cancer - the same day his parents got the credit card bill. They decided that that he had enough to worry about without them going bitchcakes on him, so they didn't mention it. Corin, after undergoing treatment, is completely cured of thyroid cancer and now has the guilt free remembrences of Jane and the credit card. Luckiest bastard on the planet.

I think I'm kind of jealous of him. I spent 3 months in Italy and only spent $500. I walked everywhere and skipped lunches (or stole food from my roommates). I also quit smoking unintentionally. I was so poor that I was buying the government issue cigarettes called "Nacionales." These cigarettes were so gross the homeless refused them.

One day, I was sitting in my room contemplating lighting up, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. All day, the nicotine demon clawed at my will, but every time I thought of lighting that putrid weed, I would start to dry-heave. After a week of clawing at my face and weeping when I'd enter a bar, the craving began to leave a little, and I discovered that it was cheaper to just let it be. I never started back up again either. Every once in awhile I'll smoke one if I have been drinking heavily. The sweet nicotine rush will leave me longing for the days when I was pure; before the kids had corrupted me into relinquishing the simple joys of smoking and writing, or smoking and drinking, or smoking and playing piano, frisbee, or strip poker. The next day, though, I will be cursing the one drop of liquor that numbed my senses into thinking that a smoke was a good idea.

Thanks

Thanks for responding. I know it was kind of dumb, but I appreciate it. It just goes to show that a "so clean you could eat off the floor" house is not really required in a mate. That's cool. I forgot a few things like Religion/Spirituality, but it really didn't matter.

I had to quit for a few days and give my mind a rest. My Eldest had her first day of Kindygarten and seems to like it pretty well. The baby cried and cried for "my Gwennie" when we left her at school. She kept saying, "No no. I need my Gwennie. Please Mommy, I need my Gwennie." Enough to break your heart into pieces and lodge them in your guilt forever and ever. They had never been separated and the little one is really shy and depends on her big sister. Severe trauma.

We are having gorgeous weather this weekend. Some amazing cold front moved through from Canadia and it is in the high 80s with low humidity. Absolutely unheard of in Houston. I'm hoping it means we will have an early or a cold winter. In fact, I think I'll go enjoy it while it lasts. Over and out.

Brief Hiatus

I have to take a break for a few days. Don't forget me.

Another Unscientific Poll in the meantime:

In the quailties you look for in a wife/husband provided they are not physically repulsive, rate the order of importance:
1. Good Housekeeper
2. Good Sex
3. Good Cook
4. Good Conversationalist
5. Good Provider/Wage Earner
6. High Intelligence

Just say in your comments if you are male or female.

Finals Weeks

Jethro has 2 weeks of finals coming up, and my Eldest is starting Kindergarten. You'd think I wouldn't have time to blog, but it is the only thing keeping my thoughts in order. The only time I can't stand Jethro is when he's taking exams. Stress always brings out the worst in him, and the worst in him always brings out the worst in me. Last night he fired 3 orders at me in a row without even pausing for breath. "Put this in your car. Get some sleep. Put the phone back on the charger." It was funny, and he laughed when I said, "Yes, dear. Yes, dear. Yes, dear" and started running around in circles. But I can tell that it is the beginning of a very stressful 2 weeks. During his last set of finals, we bickered for 3 days straight, and even went our separate ways for about 4 hours. It was a big deal for us because, well let's just say we're lovers not fighters.

Sex is different too. We still have it, but I sometimes end up feeling like one of those realistic looking porno dolls with the realistic orifices. Or a stress reliever that you smush around in your hands. It is so compulsive for him whenever he's studying that he doesn't say much more than, "I'm horny. Service me, woman." Okay, I'm making up the "service me" part.

It's still interesting though. Being used for sex is gratifying in a way. Getting right down to business in a purely carnal manner is good for losing one's inhibitions. I know he's objectifying me, so I can't help but objectify him and it almost becomes a race to see who can get what they want first. Basically, you are saying, "I am not going to turn you on, but I'm going to use you to get me off." Very selfish and I could see marriages going down the tubes if it was standard practice, but once in awhile it's cool.

I think, except for the occasional screw, it is probably better if we stay out of each others' way as much as possible for two weeks. Once he's on break, everything will be fine and he will be back to his cool, fun-loving self, but for now, I guess I just have to stay nekkid and available.

Brief Unscientific Poll

Just curious, but in the sexual sense, how many people like sounds - either making them or hearing them?

The Words We Use

Well, I got rid of my kids for the whole day. My Eldest is about to start school and I needed the day without them up my butt to get the house all organized. It is far from done, but Jeth and I made a good start. Except that we got horny half-way in and ended up having sex. Kinda slowed us down a little. It was great though. I guess it was because we weren't supposed to be doing it that made it so good. Also, the fact that the kids weren't around and we could make as much noise as we wanted.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the topic of my discussion. Before I ever had sex, I thought that it would be terribly unladylike to make any sound at all. After I had sex, I realized that I was noisy. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. I've tried and it just won't work. If the kids are around, I just cover my face with a pillow or stuff a towel in my mouth. It kind of makes for a snuff film atmosphere, but the alternative is the kids banging on the door in terror.

So when they're gone, sex just becomes this orgy of sounds. Most of what I say makes no sense whatsoever. I've actually been accused of saying, "harder, motherfucker," which probably could have defeated the whole endeavor, but Jethro seemed amused...and spurred to greater action.

It's also good if he talks to me. One well-timed, "come for me, baby," and I am singing like a bluebird.

The most ridiculous thing that ever happened in bed was once when I was on top. I was right there (in the orgasmic sense) and I accidentally grabbed Jethro's face and smushed. His lips squished right between my fingers and my thumb as I was clenching and unclenching my fist. It looked so funny that I laughed and ruined it for myself. Undaunted, Jethro finished up for himself. I thought it was great that I could be sitting on top of him laughing and he just went on about his business like it was nothing. If I'd ruined it for him too, I would have felt bad.

I had too much wine tonight at Buca di Beppo, which is a family-style Italian restaurant in Houston. There is a good possibility that I'm going to sober-up and delete this whole post, so laugh it up while you can.

Post-Coital Coma

I can't understand for the life of me why men can't rise and shine after having sex. We have so much to do today, and Jethro is just lying in bed with his eyes closed and a goofy grin on his face. I know I'm good, but damn. I mean, our house is falling apart it is so messy, and I can't do housework unless Jethro helps me. It is just the way I work. Is it unfair? I don't think so. I'm no feminist, but I think sharing the household tasks should be split right down the middle. Unfotuately, Jethro is better about doing his share than I am, so I have no room to talk. Except on Saturday mornings when the only thing rising is me and his Hmmm Hmmm.

I'm now going to go and stalk self-righteously around the house for awhile. Maybe that will have some effect.

The Fine Art of Flattery

I'll preface this anecdote by saying that I am really untalented at receiving compliments. I'm not too good at delivering them either. I don't like brown-nosing, and I am particularly bad at it. The upside is that if I say I like something, I am telling the truth. The downside is as follows:

The other day, when I dropped my kids off at their daycare/school, another mom came up to me and said, "Your girls are so beautiful. I always see them when they're eating their snacks and they are so ladylike." Instead of saying "thank you" like any normal person, I said, "they must get it from their dad," which prompted the lady to assure me that I was probably very ladylike, and that my husband was probably very manly. She didn't laugh (which was my intention), she felt sorry for me that I had such low self-esteem.

Arrrrrgh!! Why do I do it? I always end up putting myself in these situations. I must be a masochist. Why can't I just enjoy being tied to a bedpost instead of tying myself up in public?

This certainly isn't the worst situation I've ever put myself in. It's just an example of the idiotic things that come out of my mouth on a day to day basis that make it look as if I were filled with self-loathing. I don't have low self-esteem. I don't fish for compliments (except from Jethro). I just have a weird sense of humor.

I'm through torturing myself. I'm going to go jump off a cliff.

More from Band Camp

When my First Baby was a few months old, Jethro and I took her to see some of our friends from college. We were the first of our group to have a baby, so it was a real event. She was passed around like a joint and finally ended up with our friend, Dom. Dom is half-black and half Vietnamese and is extremely ripped. Jeth and I were talking to some people when Dom came up with Eldest and asked, "Um guys, what's she doing?" We looked up and saw Eldest clutching his giant pec and sucking his nipple through his shirt. Luckily he was a pretty clean guy because it almost took a crowbar to pry her loose. Dom was a little embarrassed, but still thought it was funny. He did give me a sympathetic look when we left.

Johnny5 http://yearinforever.blogspot.com has a little poll going, and I very badly want to win in at least one category. I realize the ethical dilemma of voting that you would like to kiss or sleep with a married lady, so I am perfectly willing to win the cliff tossing category. In fact, it looks as if that is my best shot. But I wouldn't cry if I pulled ahead in one of the other categories either. So exercise your rights and vote. For me. Thanks.

P.S. If too many people are grossed out by my baby trying to nurse off of a man, let me know. I will capitalize it and put it in bold italics.

Another time at band camp...

About 7 years ago, my family bought a puppy named Tinkerbell. Most of my sisters were still living at home and they were faced with potty-training the youngest, who was 2, and the dog at the same time. The puppy was mean and stubborn and refused to relieve herself of solid waste outside. My sisters became increasingly impatient with the surprises left under their beds, on their beds, in their closets, etc.

One day, my sister Rochelle, who was about 13, walked into her room. There was a huge clump on the floor and the dog was sitting insolently beside it. She snapped. She spanked the dog, rubbed her nose in it, and spanked her again, yelling the whole time. Then she noticed a smear on the wall. Then another clump hidden underneath a shoe box. She looked up and saw our youngest sister cringing guiltily in the corner.

We still have the dog, but she doesn't like any of us very much.

One time at band camp....

One time when I was working at an English pub in Houston, I was lighting the citronella candles that we used outdoors and putting them into their holders over the tables. I dropped one, flame side up, directly on a man's crotch. In my haste to retrieve the candle, I grabbed his whole package and lifted. His wife just looked at me.

The Price is Right

When I was a little kid, I used to think the models on the Price is Right were deaf because they never talked and were always gesturing with their hands.

Unexpected Night Out

Jeth and I had the best Saturday night. Baby wandered into our room where we were watching TV and said, "I need to go see gramma." Well, who could deny such a request? I took both the girls to Jethro's parent's house to see "gramma and grampa." I goofed around with my sister-in-law for awhile, then started to make noises about going home. Grampa ignored me completely and gave the girls bottles (which they are far too big for and don't have at home) and said, "go upstairs before your mother sees." I pretended to insist that I should take them home and not burden them with the girls, but they were quite determined and I didn't mind a bit.

I went back home and Jeth was actually still awake. I said, "Hey baby, wanna date?" He said, "Hell yeah." So we went out to a sports bar right down the road from us. There was a cover band playing bitter alternative hits. They weren't that good, but they were some loud and tough-looking cholos and they had brought all their loud and tough-looking cholo friends. I kind of had a thing for the guirarist. I usually have a thing for bass players (something about the way they move their fingers makes me want to hit a high note), but this bass player was a girl and I just don't go there (not that I couldn't if I wanted to). Anyway, the last song they played was "She Hates Me" - Puddle of Mudd. The last lines of the song are, of course, "She fucking hates me." The singer then ad-libbed "but she fucking loves my cock" to raucous applause. I guess a guy just can't cover a song like that without clarifying that it isn't an indictment of his love-making skills. It was funny though.

I got pretty hammered drinking long island ice teas. Through the drunken haze, a few things caught my attention. One was a boozy looking older blonde who was hitting on a younger guy. She kept dancing around in front of him and the guy looked just young and drunk and interested enough for me to think he might be getting some in the back seat of his car. This lady looked like she knew her way around the back-seat. She also looked like she knew her way around motorcycles and gas-station restrooms.

There was a young boozy blonde there with an older guy. He looked primed for a mid-life crisis, and she looked just young and drunk and interested enough to make me think that she might be getting some in the Motel 6 down the freeway. I think back-seat sex might have been physically challenging for the guy.

There were some college kids there. One was smoking a cigar. He didn't look old enough to shave, but he was smoking a cigar. He looked silly.

After the band finished and I had annihilated everyone in the bar at trivia (I was the only one actually playing), Jethro poured me into the car and we drove through Taco Cabana (which was hoppin').

We got home and Jethro...ahem...got some. On the living room floor. Con fajitas y queso.