The Sparkling Glitter Rainbow Pony has good things to say regarding guns, carrying guns, and shooting fleeing suspects in the back with guns. His opinions are mine when I'm not frothing mad at a society which won't acknowledge the community in which these cocksuckers exist, much less do anything useful to quell the tide of violence within said community for reasons either blindly ignorant or politically correct.
That being said, I'm bored with the subject.
Jethro and I went to the Houston Galleria today. I haven't been there in years. I used to go in high school quite regularly, but then I decided that only rich, snobby brats went there and that I was much happier in plaid shirts.
I've taken Gwennie and Emma there once, and I think I went there for something wedding related, but I was pregnant and too sick to care at all. But the Galleria is beautiful and it's one of the few places I don't people-watch simply because of the aesthetics.
Since we have our friend visiting, we decided that the Galleria would be a worthwhile trip since she likes malls. After buying makeup at Sephora, we wandered into a tea shop. It is morbidly hot in Houston, and I thought something cold and tea like might relieve me of the ever-present threat of heat stroke. I asked the languid young man behind the counter for one of the specialty drinks they had advertised in a big above the bar.
Zelda: May I have the Minty Icy Green Tea Drink which you display so prominently on your sign?
Tea Snob (with utmost contempt and without hint of an apology): No. I can't make the Minty Icy Green Tea Drink, The Fruity Frozen Drink, the Cotton Candy Tea Surprise, the.....
Zelda: Fine. What do you recommend that one can drink over ice and that doesn't have or need a lot of sugar?
Tea Snob: Try the white tea with honeydew. All those other drinks are crap anyway.
Zelda: Wrap it up, Tea Boy.
As the Tea Snob was brewing up my tea, a gentleman came in and ordered the Bubble Tea which contained tapioca balls.
Tea Snob (with a roll of his eyes): I can't make Bubble Tea. We have no tapioca.
Zelda (unable, as always, to resist a ball joke): What? You have no balls?
Tea Snob: Thank you for pointing that out. No, I do not have any balls.
Zelda: Too bad. I generally like balls.
I paid for my drink and walked out, utterly content with my white tea with honeydew and double entendre.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Everything is Fine
Thank you all so much for the kind thoughts and the castration wishes. They were appreciated more than I know how to say, and they really livened up what was a terrible day.
The PO-leese haven't caught them, and I doubt they will. I'm not afraid of them, though. Jethro has a great big gun, and I saw how fast he whipped it out - of a combination safe. They don't have a prayer if they enter this house, and of that I am absolutely confident.
Which brings me to where I believe the comments were heading.
The police officer informed Carrie and I that, had we possessed a weapon, we could have shot them in the back as they were escaping with our property.
Now I know the standard commie/liberal/government dependent/ball-less argument that a skanky purse and a cell phone are not worth taking someone's life over. I used to agree. But now I don't.
I heard those cocksuckers laughing on the phone at their big bad heist of a PREGNANT WOMAN. They will know no remorse and probably no justice for their actions. And they will do it again. For the thrill. And when the thrill of scaring people lessens, they will kill someone.
Anyone who is able to rob a PREGNANT WOMAN for a few dollars and a couple of pantyliners is capable of anything. And their escaping justice only emboldens them and others who might not have been so willing. The PO-leese, while helpful and reassuring, cannot be everywhere at once. They are not the only ones responsible for your protection. You, and you alone are responsible for your own safety, and yes, even the safety of others.
And I believe this means having the courage to shoot someone in the back for taking your purse.
The PO-leese haven't caught them, and I doubt they will. I'm not afraid of them, though. Jethro has a great big gun, and I saw how fast he whipped it out - of a combination safe. They don't have a prayer if they enter this house, and of that I am absolutely confident.
Which brings me to where I believe the comments were heading.
The police officer informed Carrie and I that, had we possessed a weapon, we could have shot them in the back as they were escaping with our property.
Now I know the standard commie/liberal/government dependent/ball-less argument that a skanky purse and a cell phone are not worth taking someone's life over. I used to agree. But now I don't.
I heard those cocksuckers laughing on the phone at their big bad heist of a PREGNANT WOMAN. They will know no remorse and probably no justice for their actions. And they will do it again. For the thrill. And when the thrill of scaring people lessens, they will kill someone.
Anyone who is able to rob a PREGNANT WOMAN for a few dollars and a couple of pantyliners is capable of anything. And their escaping justice only emboldens them and others who might not have been so willing. The PO-leese, while helpful and reassuring, cannot be everywhere at once. They are not the only ones responsible for your protection. You, and you alone are responsible for your own safety, and yes, even the safety of others.
And I believe this means having the courage to shoot someone in the back for taking your purse.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
I don't really know how to title this post. My friend Carrie, who is 6 months pregnant, and I were robbed by two men with guns in my driveway. It happened just over an hour ago.
I like to shop at Walmart late at night. It's quiet, and the white-trash, fat-trucks are at a minimum. It is, however, a very stupid idea as three young black men can follow you home in their stolen shit-mobile, and drop off two of them who will come running up with bandanas and guns demanding your purses.
I wasn't even scared. *Update: One was wearing a blue bandana over his face, and the other was wearing a red one. I thought briefly (and insanely) that the Crips and the Bloods must have merged.* But I just wanted them to leave Carrie alone. If she hadn't been pregnant, the self-preservation fear instinct might have kicked in harder, but I just calmly reached into my car and got my purse and handed it over. I said, "Take it, take it, it's cool, just take it."
Then they ran away.
They made off with about $20 in cash, our cell phones, a few Advil Sinuses, some make-up, our i.d.'s, bank cards (which they never got to use), and a jar of rubber cement (don't ask).
All in all, I don't think it was worth losing your manhood over. I mean really. Robbing a pregnant girl? These animals have real balls.
After they ran off, I ran into the house screaming for Jethro, who was asleep. Poor guy thought they were in the house and grabbed that gun faster than I have ever seen. If they'd actually been in the house, they'd have gotten it right between the eyes.
I called 911 and the police showed up pretty quickly. They took our descriptions of the armed robbers, took inventory of what was in our purses, and put out a call for everyone to be on the lookout. The officer stayed with us awhile and he was very nice and friendly. He said to try calling my cellphone - that sometimes they were stupid and would answer it. I said I would and then I asked him what to say if they answered.
He said, "Just tell them you need your phone back and you'll pay them for it and try to arrange a meeting place."
It sounded like a plan, so I called.
The dumbass answered.
Zelda: "You have my phone and I need it back."
SN: "Oh heeeeell no."
Zelda: "I'll pay you. It has a lot of numbers on there that I need."
SN: "How much?"
Zelda (pulling a number out of her ass): "$500."
SN: "You callin' the PO-leese?
Zelda: "The cops can't do shit and I need my goddam phone."
(Police officer cracks up)
Zelda: "Meet me at the McDonald's on H______
SN: "Oh heeeeeell no. You gonna bring the PO-leese."
Zelda: "Fine. Where do you want to meet?"
SN (shuffling noises, discussion, and idiot giggling in the background): S________ and R_______. Don't bring no PO-leese. We know where you live and we got guns."
Zelda: "I know you do." (Fuckers) "When?"
SN: "Right now. Don't you bring no gun. We'll kill you."
Zelda: "Fine."
I relayed all the information to the PO who relayed it to the others in the area. Maybe they'll find them and maybe they won't. The good thing is that we are all safe and nothing of any real value was taken. Except for some used pantyliners Carrie was carrying in her purse (don't ask). Bet that was a surprise. I hope they're Muslim.
I like to shop at Walmart late at night. It's quiet, and the white-trash, fat-trucks are at a minimum. It is, however, a very stupid idea as three young black men can follow you home in their stolen shit-mobile, and drop off two of them who will come running up with bandanas and guns demanding your purses.
I wasn't even scared. *Update: One was wearing a blue bandana over his face, and the other was wearing a red one. I thought briefly (and insanely) that the Crips and the Bloods must have merged.* But I just wanted them to leave Carrie alone. If she hadn't been pregnant, the self-preservation fear instinct might have kicked in harder, but I just calmly reached into my car and got my purse and handed it over. I said, "Take it, take it, it's cool, just take it."
Then they ran away.
They made off with about $20 in cash, our cell phones, a few Advil Sinuses, some make-up, our i.d.'s, bank cards (which they never got to use), and a jar of rubber cement (don't ask).
All in all, I don't think it was worth losing your manhood over. I mean really. Robbing a pregnant girl? These animals have real balls.
After they ran off, I ran into the house screaming for Jethro, who was asleep. Poor guy thought they were in the house and grabbed that gun faster than I have ever seen. If they'd actually been in the house, they'd have gotten it right between the eyes.
I called 911 and the police showed up pretty quickly. They took our descriptions of the armed robbers, took inventory of what was in our purses, and put out a call for everyone to be on the lookout. The officer stayed with us awhile and he was very nice and friendly. He said to try calling my cellphone - that sometimes they were stupid and would answer it. I said I would and then I asked him what to say if they answered.
He said, "Just tell them you need your phone back and you'll pay them for it and try to arrange a meeting place."
It sounded like a plan, so I called.
The dumbass answered.
Zelda: "You have my phone and I need it back."
SN: "Oh heeeeell no."
Zelda: "I'll pay you. It has a lot of numbers on there that I need."
SN: "How much?"
Zelda (pulling a number out of her ass): "$500."
SN: "You callin' the PO-leese?
Zelda: "The cops can't do shit and I need my goddam phone."
(Police officer cracks up)
Zelda: "Meet me at the McDonald's on H______
SN: "Oh heeeeeell no. You gonna bring the PO-leese."
Zelda: "Fine. Where do you want to meet?"
SN (shuffling noises, discussion, and idiot giggling in the background): S________ and R_______. Don't bring no PO-leese. We know where you live and we got guns."
Zelda: "I know you do." (Fuckers) "When?"
SN: "Right now. Don't you bring no gun. We'll kill you."
Zelda: "Fine."
I relayed all the information to the PO who relayed it to the others in the area. Maybe they'll find them and maybe they won't. The good thing is that we are all safe and nothing of any real value was taken. Except for some used pantyliners Carrie was carrying in her purse (don't ask). Bet that was a surprise. I hope they're Muslim.
Friday, June 17, 2005
To Whip It Out, Or Not Whip It Out
Payasita Update - Sorry for lapse.
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There is quite a lot about breastfeeding in the news lately. Rosie O'Donnell, in a fit of psychotic lesbian, dry-titted jealosy, forced her "life-partner" to stop breastfeeding her newborn because Papa Rosie decided she wanted to be a mother (despite the facial hair and testicles) and that there was too much maternal bonding upon which she was missing. I hope someone can grow bigger balls than her and tell her that her hormones are turning her into a domineering, male chauvenist pig.
Then there is the little spat between Bahbwa Waltews and the Lactating Americans because of remarks she made regarding a woman who plopped her ass down next to her and started nursing her infant. Bahbwa, having had her delicate sensibilities assaulted so ruthlessly, made mention of it with her group of cluckers on The View.
Jimmy Kimmel calls her out so hard and Michelle Malkin makes a very good point comparing it to Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction (except more nutritional).
But in response to all of this, the saggy-titted Lactators have bared their bosoms and forced their children to nurse in public. Like that would make people more receptive.
Now for some personal perspective, having breastfed both my girls. Breasfeeding is good. Medically, ethically and especially audially in close spaces, it is more than good. It has been done for centuries - even in the Victorian era. Rich women either had the luxury of discretion or hired someone else to do it. But poor women worked in the fields, nursed their babies and went back to work. The men, like gentlemen instead of prudish whining nancies, turned their heads.
We have truly gone soft if we are repulsed by nursing babies. But the militant Lactators who force their leaking boobs in people's faces don't exactly help the cause.
How about this: Everyone grow the fuck up and turn your heads ever so slightly if you see somoene nursing and it upsets you. Ladies, be as discreet as possible without tying yourself into knots. That should make everyone happy. It won't. But it should.
-------------------------------------
There is quite a lot about breastfeeding in the news lately. Rosie O'Donnell, in a fit of psychotic lesbian, dry-titted jealosy, forced her "life-partner" to stop breastfeeding her newborn because Papa Rosie decided she wanted to be a mother (despite the facial hair and testicles) and that there was too much maternal bonding upon which she was missing. I hope someone can grow bigger balls than her and tell her that her hormones are turning her into a domineering, male chauvenist pig.
Then there is the little spat between Bahbwa Waltews and the Lactating Americans because of remarks she made regarding a woman who plopped her ass down next to her and started nursing her infant. Bahbwa, having had her delicate sensibilities assaulted so ruthlessly, made mention of it with her group of cluckers on The View.
Jimmy Kimmel calls her out so hard and Michelle Malkin makes a very good point comparing it to Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction (except more nutritional).
But in response to all of this, the saggy-titted Lactators have bared their bosoms and forced their children to nurse in public. Like that would make people more receptive.
Now for some personal perspective, having breastfed both my girls. Breasfeeding is good. Medically, ethically and especially audially in close spaces, it is more than good. It has been done for centuries - even in the Victorian era. Rich women either had the luxury of discretion or hired someone else to do it. But poor women worked in the fields, nursed their babies and went back to work. The men, like gentlemen instead of prudish whining nancies, turned their heads.
We have truly gone soft if we are repulsed by nursing babies. But the militant Lactators who force their leaking boobs in people's faces don't exactly help the cause.
How about this: Everyone grow the fuck up and turn your heads ever so slightly if you see somoene nursing and it upsets you. Ladies, be as discreet as possible without tying yourself into knots. That should make everyone happy. It won't. But it should.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Miscellaneous
Back to the regularly scheduled program.
The A/C is back and better than ever. It was cold in the house last night, but I wouldn't turn the A/C down. It felt too damn good. Besides, the cold makes my nipples hard. And that's always cool.
Things that have happened since I've been away:
We saw the Lord of the Rings exhibit at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. For anyone who is unaware, they decided to put many of the movie props on display and exhibit them at museums around the country. For a huge LOTR nerd like me, it was fabulous. They had the miniature of the Shire mill as it appeared in Galadriel's mirror showing the Hobbits enslaved by orcs and the mill turned into a factory. We saw the costumes worn by Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Arwen, Galadriel, Frodo and some others. Aragorn's was in tatters. They had the whole suit of armor worn by the Dark Lord Sauron in the very beginning of the Fellowship when Isildor slices the One Ring off his finger with the shards of Narsil. We also saw the shards of Narsil. There were all kind of armor - Orc armor, Uruk Hai armor, goblin armor, Elvish armor, Dwarf armor, and the vest of mithrail that Bilbo gave to Frodo. We saw Sting (Frodo's sword), Anduril (Aragorn's sword), Glamdring (Gandalf's sword), other swords, Gandalf's staff, Nenya (Galadriel's ring), Galadriel's crown, Arwen's necklace that she gave to aragorn, Lord Elrond's crown and ring, Vilya. They also had rings and armor of the 9 kings of men when they were kings and then when they were the Nazgul.
They had created the boat with a wax figure of the dead Boromir. I've seen actual corpses that looked more fake. And you only see him from far away in the movie, so you have no idea how much detail went into that prop. I couldn't find a single mistake.
The One Ring had a room all of it's own. It was suspended in a glass tube and it was very large. It didn't have the letters on it, so I'm assuming they were computer generated in the movie.
They wouldn't let you take photos, and I was mostly ok with that. But there was one thing I wanted a picture of, and that was the genitals of a lifelike statue of the cave troll. In the movie he has a loin cloth. But I was amazed that someone had taken the time to imagine and create realistic but imaginary genitals for an imaginary creature. Jethro pointed it out to me and we stood there chuckling like Beavis and Butthead for about 10 minutes. They even made the balls.
I'm sure other things have happened since I've been gone, but I'm now throughly distracted by the balls.
The A/C is back and better than ever. It was cold in the house last night, but I wouldn't turn the A/C down. It felt too damn good. Besides, the cold makes my nipples hard. And that's always cool.
Things that have happened since I've been away:
We saw the Lord of the Rings exhibit at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. For anyone who is unaware, they decided to put many of the movie props on display and exhibit them at museums around the country. For a huge LOTR nerd like me, it was fabulous. They had the miniature of the Shire mill as it appeared in Galadriel's mirror showing the Hobbits enslaved by orcs and the mill turned into a factory. We saw the costumes worn by Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Arwen, Galadriel, Frodo and some others. Aragorn's was in tatters. They had the whole suit of armor worn by the Dark Lord Sauron in the very beginning of the Fellowship when Isildor slices the One Ring off his finger with the shards of Narsil. We also saw the shards of Narsil. There were all kind of armor - Orc armor, Uruk Hai armor, goblin armor, Elvish armor, Dwarf armor, and the vest of mithrail that Bilbo gave to Frodo. We saw Sting (Frodo's sword), Anduril (Aragorn's sword), Glamdring (Gandalf's sword), other swords, Gandalf's staff, Nenya (Galadriel's ring), Galadriel's crown, Arwen's necklace that she gave to aragorn, Lord Elrond's crown and ring, Vilya. They also had rings and armor of the 9 kings of men when they were kings and then when they were the Nazgul.
They had created the boat with a wax figure of the dead Boromir. I've seen actual corpses that looked more fake. And you only see him from far away in the movie, so you have no idea how much detail went into that prop. I couldn't find a single mistake.
The One Ring had a room all of it's own. It was suspended in a glass tube and it was very large. It didn't have the letters on it, so I'm assuming they were computer generated in the movie.
They wouldn't let you take photos, and I was mostly ok with that. But there was one thing I wanted a picture of, and that was the genitals of a lifelike statue of the cave troll. In the movie he has a loin cloth. But I was amazed that someone had taken the time to imagine and create realistic but imaginary genitals for an imaginary creature. Jethro pointed it out to me and we stood there chuckling like Beavis and Butthead for about 10 minutes. They even made the balls.
I'm sure other things have happened since I've been gone, but I'm now throughly distracted by the balls.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Sorry Folks
As Jethro has stated, our A/C died on us and I am working from my step-dad's house which leaves precious little time for blogging as he actually expects me to work, plus his computer is achingly slow. I hope to get blogging again by tomorrow, but since Jethro and I have spent several chaste nights now with each set of in-laws, there is one thing higher on my list of priorities.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
You Want A Piece Of Me?
Thanks Ala. It's my first unsolicited tag. I'm honored.
1. First name: Juliette
2. Were you named after anyone? Yes.
3. Do you wish on stars? Are you kidding?
4. When did you last cry? Last night for a few seconds.
5. Do you like your handwriting? Yes, when I've gotten enough sleep.
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Corned Beef or Pastrami
7. What is your birth date? Cinco de Mayo
8. What is your most embarrassing moment? Probably the time I wore a long wrap-around skirt with a trick button. I was walking to class on a very windy day in the middle of the winter in NH. A gust blew my skirt clean off and, like keys in a lava flow, it was gone. I turned around and walked bare-legged back to my dorm room while some nice young men attempted to retrieve it for me. They never did but it was probably because they were laughing too hard to run fast.
9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with yourself? Yes, but we'd probably bitch at each other a lot.
11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? Yes. Deliberately too so I'll probably go to hell.
12. Do looks matter? If you're a vegas showgirl, they probably do.
13. How do you release anger? Blogging and getting adjustments.
14. Where is your second home? NY Catskill Mountains
15. Do you trust others too easily? Sometimes
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Matches
17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? High School
18. Do you have a journal? You’re reading it
19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Read my blog.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Gone with the Wind, Some Like It Hot, O Brother Where Art Thou?
21. What are your nicknames? Babe (after someone hot, not the pig).
22. Would you bungee jump? Never unless my life were otherwise at stake.
23. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Not ususlly.
24. Do you think that you are strong? Fair to middlin' but I'd never get into it with a short woman.
25. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? sweet cream and strawberries
26. Shoe size? 9 ½
27. What are your favorite colors? Blue and green
28. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? My hair
29. What do you miss most? The Catskills
30. Do you want everyone you sent this to, to send it back? Don't care
31. What color pants are you wearing? light cammo green short pants
32. What are you listening to right now? Memory Motel-Stones
34. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Blue/Green
35. What is the weather like right now? Hotter than hell and muggy
36. Last person you talked to on the phone? My boss.
38. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Yup. Very much.
39. How are you today? Please.
40. Favorite Drink? Margaritas.
41. Favorite Sport: On TV, basketball. Live, baseball.
42. Hair Color? reddish brown
43. Eye Color? dark brown
44. Do you wear contacts? no
45. Favorite Food? Bacon
46. Last Movie You Watched? Phantom of the Opera
47. Favorite Day of the Year? When the first cold front moves through, but only if it doesn't blow the winds from Pasadena.
48. Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Happy endings while receiving a happy ending.
49. Summer or winter? Winter in Houston, early summer in NY.
50. Hugs or kisses? Kisses, French
51. What is Your Favorite Dessert? Homemade Angel Food Cake with vanilla ice cream with cinnamon on top.
52. Who is Most Likely to Respond? No idea
53. Who is Least Likely to Respond? No idea
54. Where Would You Want to Go on your Next Vacation? I think we'll go to DC for the next family trip, but Jethro and I are going to get to Hawaii when he finishes school.
I don't want to pass it on because I don't know who reads me regularly anymore. Even my own husband. But don't weep for me.
1. First name: Juliette
2. Were you named after anyone? Yes.
3. Do you wish on stars? Are you kidding?
4. When did you last cry? Last night for a few seconds.
5. Do you like your handwriting? Yes, when I've gotten enough sleep.
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Corned Beef or Pastrami
7. What is your birth date? Cinco de Mayo
8. What is your most embarrassing moment? Probably the time I wore a long wrap-around skirt with a trick button. I was walking to class on a very windy day in the middle of the winter in NH. A gust blew my skirt clean off and, like keys in a lava flow, it was gone. I turned around and walked bare-legged back to my dorm room while some nice young men attempted to retrieve it for me. They never did but it was probably because they were laughing too hard to run fast.
9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with yourself? Yes, but we'd probably bitch at each other a lot.
11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? Yes. Deliberately too so I'll probably go to hell.
12. Do looks matter? If you're a vegas showgirl, they probably do.
13. How do you release anger? Blogging and getting adjustments.
14. Where is your second home? NY Catskill Mountains
15. Do you trust others too easily? Sometimes
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Matches
17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? High School
18. Do you have a journal? You’re reading it
19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Read my blog.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Gone with the Wind, Some Like It Hot, O Brother Where Art Thou?
21. What are your nicknames? Babe (after someone hot, not the pig).
22. Would you bungee jump? Never unless my life were otherwise at stake.
23. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Not ususlly.
24. Do you think that you are strong? Fair to middlin' but I'd never get into it with a short woman.
25. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? sweet cream and strawberries
26. Shoe size? 9 ½
27. What are your favorite colors? Blue and green
28. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? My hair
29. What do you miss most? The Catskills
30. Do you want everyone you sent this to, to send it back? Don't care
31. What color pants are you wearing? light cammo green short pants
32. What are you listening to right now? Memory Motel-Stones
34. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Blue/Green
35. What is the weather like right now? Hotter than hell and muggy
36. Last person you talked to on the phone? My boss.
38. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Yup. Very much.
39. How are you today? Please.
40. Favorite Drink? Margaritas.
41. Favorite Sport: On TV, basketball. Live, baseball.
42. Hair Color? reddish brown
43. Eye Color? dark brown
44. Do you wear contacts? no
45. Favorite Food? Bacon
46. Last Movie You Watched? Phantom of the Opera
47. Favorite Day of the Year? When the first cold front moves through, but only if it doesn't blow the winds from Pasadena.
48. Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Happy endings while receiving a happy ending.
49. Summer or winter? Winter in Houston, early summer in NY.
50. Hugs or kisses? Kisses, French
51. What is Your Favorite Dessert? Homemade Angel Food Cake with vanilla ice cream with cinnamon on top.
52. Who is Most Likely to Respond? No idea
53. Who is Least Likely to Respond? No idea
54. Where Would You Want to Go on your Next Vacation? I think we'll go to DC for the next family trip, but Jethro and I are going to get to Hawaii when he finishes school.
I don't want to pass it on because I don't know who reads me regularly anymore. Even my own husband. But don't weep for me.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Sex Ed
JP's post about the British leeches (entitled: No Need For Personal Responsibility) got me thinking. My girls are NEVER going to take sex education in school. It is a decision I've made that is final.
I'll tell you my reasons. The biggest one is that I don't want some public school moron teaching my kids about sex. How do I know if they are a pedophile or some other kind of pervert? How do I know that they don't have a feminist/pro-abortion agenda or some other opinion that I don't agree with? I would have no idea, and I will not take the chance someone is going to teach my kids something I don't want, especially about sex. It's too important.
I've heard all of the arguments in favor of sex ed, and I'm not buying them - at least for my kids.
1. But kids need to learn about sex and not be afraid to talk about it.
First of all, I don't know anyone who is afraid to talk about sex anymore, least of all me. Any questions they have will be answered honestly depending on their level of understanding. We aren't going to have "the talk." We are going to have an ongoing discussion.
2. But they need to know about birth control and condoms.
My kids will learn about birth control and condoms. But they will never be allowed to take birth control as long as I have anything to say about it. The pill is not good for women to take. I mistrust anything that disrupts an entire biological system, and I am not alone. My experience with it was cut short by pregnancy, because I forgot that they were rendered ineffective by antibiotics, and I took it for a short time after Emma was born for regulatory purposes. They always made me feel sick and that is never, EVER a healthy sign.
Condoms on the other hand, are not failsafe. I am pretty sure Emma is proof of that. But to be honest, I don't recall having the sex to get her, so she may be immaculate. Shut up. It can happen.
3. There are many children whose parents won't discuss any of this with them.
But there are plenty of parents who are, and they shouldn't be looked down upon because they prefer to handle it themselves.
If you want to hand over the most personal and important job you will ever have in your life as a parent to some potentially agenda driven pervert who doesn't know your kid from Adam, be my guest. But I won't.
I think sex ed should be purely elective. Have the kids' parents sign a permission slip and have the classes after school when they are most likely to get in trouble anyway. I don't think valuable class hours should be wasted putting condoms on fruit when most kids don't know all 50 states.
I'll tell you my reasons. The biggest one is that I don't want some public school moron teaching my kids about sex. How do I know if they are a pedophile or some other kind of pervert? How do I know that they don't have a feminist/pro-abortion agenda or some other opinion that I don't agree with? I would have no idea, and I will not take the chance someone is going to teach my kids something I don't want, especially about sex. It's too important.
I've heard all of the arguments in favor of sex ed, and I'm not buying them - at least for my kids.
1. But kids need to learn about sex and not be afraid to talk about it.
First of all, I don't know anyone who is afraid to talk about sex anymore, least of all me. Any questions they have will be answered honestly depending on their level of understanding. We aren't going to have "the talk." We are going to have an ongoing discussion.
2. But they need to know about birth control and condoms.
My kids will learn about birth control and condoms. But they will never be allowed to take birth control as long as I have anything to say about it. The pill is not good for women to take. I mistrust anything that disrupts an entire biological system, and I am not alone. My experience with it was cut short by pregnancy, because I forgot that they were rendered ineffective by antibiotics, and I took it for a short time after Emma was born for regulatory purposes. They always made me feel sick and that is never, EVER a healthy sign.
Condoms on the other hand, are not failsafe. I am pretty sure Emma is proof of that. But to be honest, I don't recall having the sex to get her, so she may be immaculate. Shut up. It can happen.
3. There are many children whose parents won't discuss any of this with them.
But there are plenty of parents who are, and they shouldn't be looked down upon because they prefer to handle it themselves.
If you want to hand over the most personal and important job you will ever have in your life as a parent to some potentially agenda driven pervert who doesn't know your kid from Adam, be my guest. But I won't.
I think sex ed should be purely elective. Have the kids' parents sign a permission slip and have the classes after school when they are most likely to get in trouble anyway. I don't think valuable class hours should be wasted putting condoms on fruit when most kids don't know all 50 states.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Obsession
The great thing about the internet is that you can have any deep, dark, in-the-closet-hide-your-face-in-shame obsession and not only with you find others similarly afflicted, but afflicted to a degree that it can allow you to hold your head up just a little higher knowing that not only are you NOT the only one, but that there are people out there who make your obsession seem as merely casual interest.
The downside to this is that the more you read the information gathered by the similarly obsessed, the more complacent you become about your own obsession and the less you try to hide it. You can easily delude yourself into thinking that you are perfectly normal just because there is someone else crazier. The result (if you should be so misguided as to share your useless information with others) is at best blank stares, and at worst open contempt.
The wonderful thing about blogging is that I don't have to give a shit about either. So in that spirit, I present to you MY OBSESSION.
Bet you all thought it was going to be dirty. Sickos.
Disclaimer: I must emphasize that I had no idea this much information existed on The Waltons. I was humbled. But I must offer the fact that I searched for it as proof of my obsession.
The downside to this is that the more you read the information gathered by the similarly obsessed, the more complacent you become about your own obsession and the less you try to hide it. You can easily delude yourself into thinking that you are perfectly normal just because there is someone else crazier. The result (if you should be so misguided as to share your useless information with others) is at best blank stares, and at worst open contempt.
The wonderful thing about blogging is that I don't have to give a shit about either. So in that spirit, I present to you MY OBSESSION.
Bet you all thought it was going to be dirty. Sickos.
Disclaimer: I must emphasize that I had no idea this much information existed on The Waltons. I was humbled. But I must offer the fact that I searched for it as proof of my obsession.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Untitled
It always happens that the post I think I'm going to bury ends up front and center for days. Masturbation, pubic hair, and now a tranvestite post have ended up defining this blog for probably more than one innocent passerby. Not that it matters. I apologize for nothing.
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I saved all my Comment This comments because every word is gold. GOLD, Dammit!!! So should you want to stroll down memory lane and revisit some of our old conversations, they are now available. I recommend these courtesy of Jack and Gooch, and of course, myself.
And since I am probably the only one who cares or who has the collossal nerve to actually link to myself, I will move on to something more intellectual like Tom Cruise proving his heterosexuality once and for all with a bizarre combination of genuflection and physical assault in that great slurping/belching Vagina known as the Oprah Winfrey Show. No, he's not gay. I know gays. They could give it to Katie Holmes better. Faster. Longer. Harder. And with a Real Penis.
Tommy never did it for me.
----------------------------
I saved all my Comment This comments because every word is gold. GOLD, Dammit!!! So should you want to stroll down memory lane and revisit some of our old conversations, they are now available. I recommend these courtesy of Jack and Gooch, and of course, myself.
And since I am probably the only one who cares or who has the collossal nerve to actually link to myself, I will move on to something more intellectual like Tom Cruise proving his heterosexuality once and for all with a bizarre combination of genuflection and physical assault in that great slurping/belching Vagina known as the Oprah Winfrey Show. No, he's not gay. I know gays. They could give it to Katie Holmes better. Faster. Longer. Harder. And with a Real Penis.
Tommy never did it for me.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Don't Give Me No Lines And Keep Your Hands To Yourself
Jethro's post must be read first.
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Jethro: Sorry babe, I had a dream you were one of those people. What do you call them, you know the crossdressers?
Zelda: Jay and Jack?
Jethro: No, but close.
Zelda: A transvestite?
Jethro: That's it.
Zelda: You are dead to me. Consider the line crossed. You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine. We'll make it work for the kids, but after they're in college, we're through.
Jethro: Oh, come on.
Zelda: You wanna fuck?
Jethro: I can't. I'm still weirded out by the dream.
Zelda: Stick your finger in my pussy and see if that helps.
Jethro (panting eagerly): Okay!!!
Zelda: Just look out for the penis.
-----------------------------------
Jethro: Sorry babe, I had a dream you were one of those people. What do you call them, you know the crossdressers?
Zelda: Jay and Jack?
Jethro: No, but close.
Zelda: A transvestite?
Jethro: That's it.
Zelda: You are dead to me. Consider the line crossed. You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine. We'll make it work for the kids, but after they're in college, we're through.
Jethro: Oh, come on.
Zelda: You wanna fuck?
Jethro: I can't. I'm still weirded out by the dream.
Zelda: Stick your finger in my pussy and see if that helps.
Jethro (panting eagerly): Okay!!!
Zelda: Just look out for the penis.
Friday, May 27, 2005
People I Don't Feel Sorry For
I got an email from someone in the office asking for money for their daughter who was severely injured in a skydiving accident.
This reminded me of a story about Yosemite national park who had banned base jumping off the cliffs. A group of base jumpers decided to do a jump in protest. They would be arrested and have their gear confiscated upon landing, but they wanted to make a "statement."
One of the women decided not to use her best gear because it would end up confiscated by the police. This resulted in equipment failure and, to the horror of the police, onlookers, and her husband who was filming the jump, her Very Gruesome Death.
I guess that showed them.
I have no patience with these things. There is a reason why the police didn't want people base jumping as this woman so idiotically proved. However, I don't think these things should be illegal. If your own safety and the welfare of your kids is less of a priority than some useless thrill, then fine. Remove yourself from the gene pool and see if I care. Just don't ask me to feel sorry for you when you have broken every bone in your body and are paralyzed from the neck down. Or dead.
This is leading to a whole lot of other people I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for.
1. Anyone with an STD (caught through their own carelessness).
2.NASCAR racers (sorry Angi)/Extreme sport participators.
3. Illegal Drug Addicts
4.Parents whose underage children are or were illegal drug addicts.
1. STDs are the most preventable illnesses in the entire world. If you are an adult and you didn't catch it from a cheating partner, then don't ask me to feel sorry for you.
2. Dangerous sports. Everyone knows this. I can't feel sorry for you.
3. You have everyone from the government to churches telling you they are bad. Don't whine to me when you are addicted.
4. I saw a news program about a 16 year old boy who died of a drug overdose. Heroin I think. His parents had found out about his addiction when he was 14, so God only knows how long he'd been doing it. The parents put him in rehab and he proclaimed himself clean. He came back to much the same life he'd had before.
They interviewed his parents who tearfully said he told them he was going out with his friends, then he never came home and they finally got a call from the police or the hospital, I can't remember which.
I usually only pay half-attention to shows featuring weeping parents. I'm usually preoccupied with something else, so I hear the weeping and wailing and feel vague stabs of pity for the afflicted. In this case, I watched the whole thing, and then I was furious. If I had been that interviewer, I would have bitch-slapped both of them. Instead, the voice over marveled at how the children of nice parents with money were becoming addicted to street drugs.
I'll tell you how, bitches. Johnny and Suzy Parent had no balls. God forbid they punish the little darling for breaking curfew. God forbid they give the little darling a curfew at all. He might get mad at them. And God forbid the little darling gets mad them. That can't be healthy. There must be peace at all costs. Well, he's at peace now.
But I have to wonder at parents whose children become drug addicts. How do they not know? I seem to recall many many excuses, but very little acknowledgment of responsibility. Not that I'm claiming to be the world's greatest parent, but I notice when my kids are silent and go running. It usually means an heirloom has been destroyed. I notice when the neighbor brats scream three doors down and I go running to make sure it's not them. I think about my children and knives and I go running to make sure they're out of reach. I hear a story about children strangling themselves in window blinds and I take mine out and burn them in effigy. Well, I don't go that far, but you get the point.
One beating with a belt, and the kid might be alive today. One "No-son-we're-all-going-to-a-movie-tonight" and the kid might be alive today. But in lieu of actual discipline, or actual involvement, those parents let their underage, drug addicted son tell them where he was going and when he'd be back. I want to feel sorry for them, but I just can't.
All the time, I hear things like, "I did drugs and nothing bad happened to me" and "I did drugs, so I can't tell them not to or I'll be a hypocrite."
BULL. SHIT. This has to be the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard and if you believe it, your children should never have children. I smoked pot. I drove drunk ONCE. I also ran around with a butcher knife trying to stab one of our chickens when I was about 6 (don't ask). This doesn't mean I'm going to let my children do any of those things because now that I am an adult, I realize the dangers of those actions. And I don't want anything bad to happen to my kids.
This reminded me of a story about Yosemite national park who had banned base jumping off the cliffs. A group of base jumpers decided to do a jump in protest. They would be arrested and have their gear confiscated upon landing, but they wanted to make a "statement."
One of the women decided not to use her best gear because it would end up confiscated by the police. This resulted in equipment failure and, to the horror of the police, onlookers, and her husband who was filming the jump, her Very Gruesome Death.
I guess that showed them.
I have no patience with these things. There is a reason why the police didn't want people base jumping as this woman so idiotically proved. However, I don't think these things should be illegal. If your own safety and the welfare of your kids is less of a priority than some useless thrill, then fine. Remove yourself from the gene pool and see if I care. Just don't ask me to feel sorry for you when you have broken every bone in your body and are paralyzed from the neck down. Or dead.
This is leading to a whole lot of other people I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for.
1. Anyone with an STD (caught through their own carelessness).
2.NASCAR racers (sorry Angi)/Extreme sport participators.
3. Illegal Drug Addicts
4.Parents whose underage children are or were illegal drug addicts.
1. STDs are the most preventable illnesses in the entire world. If you are an adult and you didn't catch it from a cheating partner, then don't ask me to feel sorry for you.
2. Dangerous sports. Everyone knows this. I can't feel sorry for you.
3. You have everyone from the government to churches telling you they are bad. Don't whine to me when you are addicted.
4. I saw a news program about a 16 year old boy who died of a drug overdose. Heroin I think. His parents had found out about his addiction when he was 14, so God only knows how long he'd been doing it. The parents put him in rehab and he proclaimed himself clean. He came back to much the same life he'd had before.
They interviewed his parents who tearfully said he told them he was going out with his friends, then he never came home and they finally got a call from the police or the hospital, I can't remember which.
I usually only pay half-attention to shows featuring weeping parents. I'm usually preoccupied with something else, so I hear the weeping and wailing and feel vague stabs of pity for the afflicted. In this case, I watched the whole thing, and then I was furious. If I had been that interviewer, I would have bitch-slapped both of them. Instead, the voice over marveled at how the children of nice parents with money were becoming addicted to street drugs.
I'll tell you how, bitches. Johnny and Suzy Parent had no balls. God forbid they punish the little darling for breaking curfew. God forbid they give the little darling a curfew at all. He might get mad at them. And God forbid the little darling gets mad them. That can't be healthy. There must be peace at all costs. Well, he's at peace now.
But I have to wonder at parents whose children become drug addicts. How do they not know? I seem to recall many many excuses, but very little acknowledgment of responsibility. Not that I'm claiming to be the world's greatest parent, but I notice when my kids are silent and go running. It usually means an heirloom has been destroyed. I notice when the neighbor brats scream three doors down and I go running to make sure it's not them. I think about my children and knives and I go running to make sure they're out of reach. I hear a story about children strangling themselves in window blinds and I take mine out and burn them in effigy. Well, I don't go that far, but you get the point.
One beating with a belt, and the kid might be alive today. One "No-son-we're-all-going-to-a-movie-tonight" and the kid might be alive today. But in lieu of actual discipline, or actual involvement, those parents let their underage, drug addicted son tell them where he was going and when he'd be back. I want to feel sorry for them, but I just can't.
All the time, I hear things like, "I did drugs and nothing bad happened to me" and "I did drugs, so I can't tell them not to or I'll be a hypocrite."
BULL. SHIT. This has to be the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard and if you believe it, your children should never have children. I smoked pot. I drove drunk ONCE. I also ran around with a butcher knife trying to stab one of our chickens when I was about 6 (don't ask). This doesn't mean I'm going to let my children do any of those things because now that I am an adult, I realize the dangers of those actions. And I don't want anything bad to happen to my kids.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
I Like Balls
Every so often I need to lick them and swirl my tongue around them, taking them gently into my mouth, sucking gently and rolling them between my tongue and my soft palate.
I savor the succulent tenderness of those sweet little brown balls four or five at a time as cream fills my mouth, soaking them, drowning them as I slice them neatly in half with my incisors. I swallow all of the tender creaminess and for one pure moment, I know ecstasy.
I'm a sucker for tapioca.
I savor the succulent tenderness of those sweet little brown balls four or five at a time as cream fills my mouth, soaking them, drowning them as I slice them neatly in half with my incisors. I swallow all of the tender creaminess and for one pure moment, I know ecstasy.
I'm a sucker for tapioca.
They are, however, exactly what I would imagine unencased balls to feel like. They are most definitely an Asian concoction. There is a shop right by my house that makes sweet iced coffee and tea drinks and will fill them with tapioca should you so desire. They are served up by sweet pretty little Asian girls and I totally get why guys are so hot for them (Asian girls, not the balls).
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Comment This has officially gone belly-up. It was fun while it lasted, so thanks for all the fish.
Haloscan here I come.
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Comment This has officially gone belly-up. It was fun while it lasted, so thanks for all the fish.
Haloscan here I come.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Emma In The Spotlight
I have a window right in front of my desk, where I can see out into the backyard while I work. I was minding my own business the other day, when I see a naked child go flying past my window on a skyshooter. We have a swingset in the backyard and Emma had decided to strip herself nude and swing free. It was so cute. She was completely oblivious to anything but swinging happily and nakedly in the sun with her hair streaming behind her.
I would have let her do it longer, but a child molester lives next door and I don't see a reason to lead him unto temptation.
But Emma is my naked one. Gwennie likes to moon, but Emma likes to strip. I found her (naked) with one leg up on her plastic ballet bar, inspecting herself with a flashlight.
Gwennie is actually pretty good about staying clothed. She changes her outfits about 12 times a day, but at least she is wearing something. The other day she came to me and told me she had a rash. I went to inspect it and took the opportunity to tell her about who is allowed to look at her there, namely Jethro, her doctor, and myself. No one else, even other kids, are allowed. She nodded her head obediently and said, "Yes ma'am."
Now if I can just get Emma to stop shining a spotlight on hers, everything will be fine.
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UPDATE: Ala asked about Micky's monkey. I forgot to post a link back, but have now done so.
UPDATE: Comment This is back, so there is no need to use bloggers' comments anymore unless you find them to more efficient. Personally, I've missed the demon emoticon more than I know how to say.
I would have let her do it longer, but a child molester lives next door and I don't see a reason to lead him unto temptation.
But Emma is my naked one. Gwennie likes to moon, but Emma likes to strip. I found her (naked) with one leg up on her plastic ballet bar, inspecting herself with a flashlight.
Gwennie is actually pretty good about staying clothed. She changes her outfits about 12 times a day, but at least she is wearing something. The other day she came to me and told me she had a rash. I went to inspect it and took the opportunity to tell her about who is allowed to look at her there, namely Jethro, her doctor, and myself. No one else, even other kids, are allowed. She nodded her head obediently and said, "Yes ma'am."
Now if I can just get Emma to stop shining a spotlight on hers, everything will be fine.
------------------------------------------
UPDATE: Ala asked about Micky's monkey. I forgot to post a link back, but have now done so.
UPDATE: Comment This is back, so there is no need to use bloggers' comments anymore unless you find them to more efficient. Personally, I've missed the demon emoticon more than I know how to say.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Vette
Back in college, I knew a girl named Yvette. I didn't like her all that much. She was pretty in an unkempt kind of way, with long, windblown hair. But she always seemed to be in her own world. She was always pouncing on guys and giving them hickeys. It was funny the first hundred times, but it got old. It just made everyone feel awkward. One time someone got carried away and grabbed her tit and she got upset. I didn't feel very sorry for her.
But another time a group of us had gone out for a smoke break while studying for a test. Somehow, there was only one book of matches amongst the lot of us. One of the guys was trying to light the match, but kept fumbling. After trying several times to light it on the matchbook, Yvette plucked it from his hand and in one rapid, fluid motion, struck the match firmly on the sidewalk and lit her cigarette. She handed the lit match back to the guy, who stared at her in silent admiration, and walked off.
That was cool.
But another time a group of us had gone out for a smoke break while studying for a test. Somehow, there was only one book of matches amongst the lot of us. One of the guys was trying to light the match, but kept fumbling. After trying several times to light it on the matchbook, Yvette plucked it from his hand and in one rapid, fluid motion, struck the match firmly on the sidewalk and lit her cigarette. She handed the lit match back to the guy, who stared at her in silent admiration, and walked off.
That was cool.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
I Started My Period Which Doesn't Even Begin To Explain My Bad Mood
I updated Payasita. I spent a bit of time on it finding the damn links, but I said pretty much everything I've wanted to.
I started having a shitty week beginning Sunday. Besides receiving The Curse, the space bar on my keyboard up and quit on me. I had to steal the keyboard to Gwennie's and Emma's computer, but it is extremely shitty. Then I had an annoying day with people who speak shitty English. And the crowning irritation was one of Jethro's psychotic relatives insulting Gwennie and Emma to our faces at a graduation party on Sunday. So I'm in a foul mood. And if anyone tells me to go get laid, I'll hunt them down and force them to show me what they mean.
I'll start with the irritating phone caller.
Zelda: Dearest step-father's office, may I help you?
Illiterate Hispanic Woman: Do you speak a Spanish?
Zelda: No, I'm sorry.
IHW: Do you know the price for a the house?
Zelda: Which one?
IHW: I no have a the address
Zelda: I don't have the price. I need an address.
IHW: I could no read the sign.
Zelda: Well, I need the address to tell you how much it is.
IHW: You no help me. I find someone who help me.
Next Grievance:
We were at a graduation party for Jethro's cousin. Jethro and I were minding our own fucking business when his Imbecile Aunt comes up without so much as a hi-howarya and says, "My niece puts your daughters to shame."
I think I resented the lack of subtlety more than the insult.
I turned and looked at her as if she were a urine sample and said, "Interesting." Jethro looked at her quizzically and said, "How do you figure that?" Then both of us looked at each other and started laughing. It was so weird.
Then I turned to my sister-in-law and said, "Did I actually hear what I just heard?" just in case I'd missed some kind of ill-bred, fresh-off-the-boat humor.
My SIL just rolled her eyes and said, "No, she's been doing that all day." Her husband, who has quite the southern drawl shook his head, saying, "Rude, just plain rude." But he was grinning too.
Imbecile Aunt, unable to endure the ridicule, waddled off to offend someone else, and we had a good laugh at her expense, but can you belive it?
I started having a shitty week beginning Sunday. Besides receiving The Curse, the space bar on my keyboard up and quit on me. I had to steal the keyboard to Gwennie's and Emma's computer, but it is extremely shitty. Then I had an annoying day with people who speak shitty English. And the crowning irritation was one of Jethro's psychotic relatives insulting Gwennie and Emma to our faces at a graduation party on Sunday. So I'm in a foul mood. And if anyone tells me to go get laid, I'll hunt them down and force them to show me what they mean.
I'll start with the irritating phone caller.
Zelda: Dearest step-father's office, may I help you?
Illiterate Hispanic Woman: Do you speak a Spanish?
Zelda: No, I'm sorry.
IHW: Do you know the price for a the house?
Zelda: Which one?
IHW: I no have a the address
Zelda: I don't have the price. I need an address.
IHW: I could no read the sign.
Zelda: Well, I need the address to tell you how much it is.
IHW: You no help me. I find someone who help me.
Next Grievance:
We were at a graduation party for Jethro's cousin. Jethro and I were minding our own fucking business when his Imbecile Aunt comes up without so much as a hi-howarya and says, "My niece puts your daughters to shame."
I think I resented the lack of subtlety more than the insult.
I turned and looked at her as if she were a urine sample and said, "Interesting." Jethro looked at her quizzically and said, "How do you figure that?" Then both of us looked at each other and started laughing. It was so weird.
Then I turned to my sister-in-law and said, "Did I actually hear what I just heard?" just in case I'd missed some kind of ill-bred, fresh-off-the-boat humor.
My SIL just rolled her eyes and said, "No, she's been doing that all day." Her husband, who has quite the southern drawl shook his head, saying, "Rude, just plain rude." But he was grinning too.
Imbecile Aunt, unable to endure the ridicule, waddled off to offend someone else, and we had a good laugh at her expense, but can you belive it?
Friday, May 13, 2005
Scent of a Feta Cheese Container
Somehow a container of Feta cheese ended up on my bookcase beside the door. The great thing about having a housekeeper come and clear up all the clutter is that I realized right away that there was a container of Feta cheese on the bookcase and got it back to the fridge before I walked in one hot summer day saying, "What's with all the flying cockroaches?"
When I was looking for The Housekeeper, I scoured ads for one that would help organize as well as just clean. This took a lot of sifting. You have no idea how many maids advertise their level of attractiveness, but then qualify the whole thing by saying, "no sex please."
I even found one ad of someone searching for a young, nude housekeeper - race unimportant. Glad to know there are equal opportunity sexist, exploitive employers out there. But can there be a more unappealing thought than a nude person scrubbing a toilet? Don't anyone answer that.
Okay, I'm done posting about The Housekeeper. I'm sure everyone is sick of her already.
I have decided to try an exercising experiment. I'm only going to work out my ass. I just want to see what happens and it should be relatively easy to sit here at my desk and clench my buttocks. I'm doing it right now. I have this thing about proportion. I think my butt is small in relation to my thighs. The only thing I can see improving the situation is building ass muscle. So I sit here clenching. It will be interesting. I'll let you know how it goes.
When I was looking for The Housekeeper, I scoured ads for one that would help organize as well as just clean. This took a lot of sifting. You have no idea how many maids advertise their level of attractiveness, but then qualify the whole thing by saying, "no sex please."
I even found one ad of someone searching for a young, nude housekeeper - race unimportant. Glad to know there are equal opportunity sexist, exploitive employers out there. But can there be a more unappealing thought than a nude person scrubbing a toilet? Don't anyone answer that.
Okay, I'm done posting about The Housekeeper. I'm sure everyone is sick of her already.
I have decided to try an exercising experiment. I'm only going to work out my ass. I just want to see what happens and it should be relatively easy to sit here at my desk and clench my buttocks. I'm doing it right now. I have this thing about proportion. I think my butt is small in relation to my thighs. The only thing I can see improving the situation is building ass muscle. So I sit here clenching. It will be interesting. I'll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Fixing Social Security/Lust For The Nice Venezuelan Girl Who Cleaned My House
If we want to reduce the number of old people sucking up social security, we should buy them all computers. They are guaranteed to shave years off their lives.
I just had an old man call me to complain about our website. He was screaming in frustration.
Our website has a feature where you can type in your home search criteria and search the homes for sale in the area you want. This is a pretty cool thing. But not for the elderly. It isn't that complicated, but the print is small, and it sometimes requires knowing where the back button is.
The problem was simple. All he'd done was search for homes with acreage instead of regular single family homes. Poor dumb guy never thought to go back and look at his options. I did my best to help him, but he was too enraged and unsophisticated in his computer skills to listen properly. At least he screamed "THANK YOU" at me before he hung up.
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The Housekeeper finished all I can afford to pay her today. It looks fabulous. But I can't help feeling that it isn't quite honest clean. I had to pay someone to make my house look like it should. All in all though, 0it rests lightly on my conscience because I really feel inspired to keep it nice. Maybe now we can finally live like nice humans instead of heathen pigs.
I just had an old man call me to complain about our website. He was screaming in frustration.
Our website has a feature where you can type in your home search criteria and search the homes for sale in the area you want. This is a pretty cool thing. But not for the elderly. It isn't that complicated, but the print is small, and it sometimes requires knowing where the back button is.
The problem was simple. All he'd done was search for homes with acreage instead of regular single family homes. Poor dumb guy never thought to go back and look at his options. I did my best to help him, but he was too enraged and unsophisticated in his computer skills to listen properly. At least he screamed "THANK YOU" at me before he hung up.
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The Housekeeper finished all I can afford to pay her today. It looks fabulous. But I can't help feeling that it isn't quite honest clean. I had to pay someone to make my house look like it should. All in all though, 0it rests lightly on my conscience because I really feel inspired to keep it nice. Maybe now we can finally live like nice humans instead of heathen pigs.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
On Squalor
The housekeeper is cleaning my pantry. I haven't cleaned that thing in years. I don't know why really - I guess I never thought to do it. I'm about to cry from joy.
I have a standing job offer for Jack. Jack + thong + mop = $20.00 an hour.
But Jack wouldn't want to come near this job. It's like a meth house without the fancy electronics.
I am tempted to post pictures of the immaculateness, but I don't want anyone looking at what they consider to be average cleanliness and wondering just what in hell it looked like before. My honesty is refreshing, isn't it?
I am just sorry I didn't do this before it got this bad. But once it's all done and we are used to living in order instead of squalor, I think I will make more of an effort. But I'm still keeping the housekeeper.
I have a standing job offer for Jack. Jack + thong + mop = $20.00 an hour.
But Jack wouldn't want to come near this job. It's like a meth house without the fancy electronics.
I am tempted to post pictures of the immaculateness, but I don't want anyone looking at what they consider to be average cleanliness and wondering just what in hell it looked like before. My honesty is refreshing, isn't it?
I am just sorry I didn't do this before it got this bad. But once it's all done and we are used to living in order instead of squalor, I think I will make more of an effort. But I'm still keeping the housekeeper.
No Pants for You
I hate not having time to blog. Blog entries run through my head over the most mundane things and it's hard to concentrate. So I have decided that it is functionally necessary for me to blog and I will continue.
Last Friday, I had to go to Jethro's school so another man could get all intimate with me. Interns aren't allowed to work on their own spouses and have it count for anything, so Jeth and his friend, Nelson, swapped wives.
All I have to say is that those interns had better work on their bedside manner. Firstly, they're all standing around and they stare at you particularly if you are in a hospital gown. I don't think they even realize they're doing it.
I had to have a series of x-rays, so I had to take of my bra and top. Well fucking excuse me for not wanting to parade (sober) around a bunch of leering interns without support. I wanted to tell them to turn the fuck around and go adjust their dicks, but I was sufficiently intimidated by my topless state into keeping my mouth shut.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Jethro and Nelson decided to discuss with the radiologist, in front of people whether or not I should remove my pants. Fuck those idiots with their own model skeletons. The pants I was wearing were thinner than the hospital gown and had no metal in them, which I pointed out to their complete disregard.
They finally decided that I did indeed need to remove my pants and told me so, loudly, slowly and in front of another patient and the ghastly leering interns, as if I were deaf, retarded, and I hadn't been standing 5 inches away from the entire conversation.
Then I had to go give blood and a urine sample. The blood was taken without incident. Unfortunately, I dropped my urine sample in the toilet. I came out empty handed and decided that since everyone was pretty much aware of all my business anyway, I would announce the fact. "No pee for you."
So that was pretty much it. The adjustments and the therapy made up for that entire process and my shoulder feels better than it has in years.
Last Friday, I had to go to Jethro's school so another man could get all intimate with me. Interns aren't allowed to work on their own spouses and have it count for anything, so Jeth and his friend, Nelson, swapped wives.
All I have to say is that those interns had better work on their bedside manner. Firstly, they're all standing around and they stare at you particularly if you are in a hospital gown. I don't think they even realize they're doing it.
I had to have a series of x-rays, so I had to take of my bra and top. Well fucking excuse me for not wanting to parade (sober) around a bunch of leering interns without support. I wanted to tell them to turn the fuck around and go adjust their dicks, but I was sufficiently intimidated by my topless state into keeping my mouth shut.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Jethro and Nelson decided to discuss with the radiologist, in front of people whether or not I should remove my pants. Fuck those idiots with their own model skeletons. The pants I was wearing were thinner than the hospital gown and had no metal in them, which I pointed out to their complete disregard.
They finally decided that I did indeed need to remove my pants and told me so, loudly, slowly and in front of another patient and the ghastly leering interns, as if I were deaf, retarded, and I hadn't been standing 5 inches away from the entire conversation.
Then I had to go give blood and a urine sample. The blood was taken without incident. Unfortunately, I dropped my urine sample in the toilet. I came out empty handed and decided that since everyone was pretty much aware of all my business anyway, I would announce the fact. "No pee for you."
So that was pretty much it. The adjustments and the therapy made up for that entire process and my shoulder feels better than it has in years.
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