Musical Monday

Don't be a peen and tell me 1 AM on Tuesday doesn't count.

I like these, and maybe you will too.

The official music video is better, but the communist bastards wouldn't let me embed it here. You should still check it out, though.

I Feel So Dirty

How could you play with my emotions this way, Disney? Didn't I mean anything to you? It was all a game to you, wasn't it?! You bastard!

Dear Bikers Doing 70 on the Toll Road

How in the hell do you not loose your mind in all that noise? I couldn't help but notice the lack of brains exploding out of your ears and I was wondering if you could bottle some of that up for me because I could sure use it the next time my kid is in one of his never-stops-talking moods.

P.S. Could you please not drive side by side right in front of that sedan there? It totally makes me think you're escorting someone important and you know when that happens there's a security detail around eyeing everyone suspiciously and that always makes me feel guilty even if I haven't done anything, well except that one thing but that was years ago, and okay that other thing but that was years ago too although not quite as many and what's the statute of limitations on that sort of thing anyway? Shit.

Wordless Wednesday

MOM! YOU HAVE GOT TO COME SEE THIS!

"Is it good or bad?"

"Good!"

Caterpillarus twig mimicus.

Here you can see the red stripe on his back, which is Caterpillarian for Don't Fuck With Me.

When he reached the end of the stick he went a little epilepticrazy like he wanted to throw himself off but didn't have the courage. You can't see it in the picture, but there were laser beams shooting out of his eyes.

Happy Mother's Day to Me

These are potted, which only slightly increases the chance they will not be dead a week from now.

HEB says these are Larkspurs, and you know I always believe what the store tells me.

Here is The Monkey, with the delightful bamboo plant he gave me. It came with the following warning: "Be careful for pandas, because PANDAS EAT BAMBOO!"

This is the look of gratitude I get every day that lets me know just how appreciated I am.

Here we have Fleurius Glitterus, also known as That Which Would Be Hideous Under Any Other Circumstances But Which Is Lovely When Your Child Picks It Out For You.

Don't Say I Never Gave You Nothin'

Here you go.

Love,
Me

In Which I Defy Genetics

"Thank god I'm not allergic to cats," I thought this morning as I buried my nose in Gus the cat's belly. I already couldn't breathe because of this cold/swine flu/apocalypse in my nose, so that probably would've been the final asphyxiating straw on the snotty camel's back.

My Mom and Brother are both allergic to cats so I'm pleased I managed to dodge this particular bullet. My Dad likes cats more than people so that probably helped.

Here are the two furrball members of our family. Gus (left) is the fiend who constantly schemes times and places to jump Maggie, and Maggie (right) is the one with the ghosts in her eyes.

Those Boogers Better Be Solid Gold

Because when you cut me off doing 10 under the speed limit and I pulled up to see you staring vacantly into space with a finger jammed up your nose, I almost shit a gold brick.

It Has Healing Properties, You Know

Would it be too weird for me to ask a breastfeeding stranger for some breast milk for my seven year old's pink eye?

Yeah?

Huh.

If you have the chance to use Northown MUD or Southwest Water Company

I suggest you high tail it out of there as fast as you can. They're
inept, condescending pricks who after an endless time over three phone
calls with me have finally succeeded in making me cry.

I WANTED to talk to a supervisor to make some sort of formal complaint
about the shit service I've been receiving, but the supervisor was
hardly any better. So I got as high up in the chain as I could get, and
probably all I've got to show for it is a note in my file.

Customers should be able to make complaints about a company providing
them service for fuck's sake, and I should get a fucking apology and an
admission of some guilt on their part.

So I bring my complaint to the community.

Tired of Taking It Up the Ass

By the bank, the credit card company, the IRS, AT&T Uverse, the general fuckwad portion of the human population, and most recently Southwest Water Company, who can suck hairy taint, the sweaty ripe kind that hasn't been bathed in two weeks and lives in dirty underwear.

Fortunately for you, there are still some good things left in the world, which keep me just barely on this side of sanity and thus saving you from enduring my foot up your ass.

You MAY Be Going to Hell...

...if you are the person who covered up the bottom third of my "FOUND: 2 dogs" sign with your "blah blah blah lost chihuahua blah blah blah small black old blah blah blah" sign that no one will read because the print's too small.

I have ambivalent feelings about you. On the one hand, if I had lost one of my pets I would be freaking my shit out, so if you are freaking your shit out I can understand where you're coming from, and it is not a place conducive to thinking.

On the other hand, you are just a stupid dipshit for unnecessarily covering up the all important phone number on my sign instead of taping yours up three inches southward.

In this case, I deem you too stupid and/or self-centered to pollute this planet with yourself, and ban you to the fiery pits. Or maybe just purgatory.

Either way.

Someone's Getting Lucky Tonight

bagels on counter + cream cheese in fridge + he just did it because he knew I'd like it = awesome

You Are Going to Hell...

...if you are the person who covered up half of my "FOUND: 2 dogs" sign with your "Puppies for Sale" sign.

In your particular level of hell, you will be the director and sole volunteer of the only rescue organization in the world, with the weight of responsibility resting squarely on your shoulders while those around you breed willy nilly with little care but with an eye for profit.

PS Suck balls.

Warning, Warning

Patience level is approaching zero.

Level of patience is directly inverse to size of can of whoop-ass next in line to be opened.

On The Threads That Bind Us

OMG, was I high or what?

And I don't even do drugs!

Anymore...

Brain/Body Disconnect

Today as I took a bite of a donut, before I could even taste it, I said out loud "Oh my god, that is gooood!"

WTF?

All right, I know WTF. *sigh*

Don't Divorce Us

This made my cry.

I dare you not to cry.

FYI

(This is an old forum post I found from Aug '08.)


If ever you get out of your car when it's running, make sure you put in
in park and don't assume having the E brake on will be enough. Also, you
might want to let your kids know that they don't have to press the
button on the E brake to raise it higher in case you go around the back
to re-close the hatchback and the car starts slowly rolling down on you
and you yell at them to pull the brake tighter. In fact, skip that part
and just have them put it in park so they don't press the brake's
button, releasing it completely, so the car comes rolling down really
fast and you're trying to push against it while running backwards and
you're almost all the way across the street before he jumps in the front
seat and slams on the foot break and puts it in park just as you are
about to get mowed down. You might also want to alert them to the fact
that the brake peddle is the one on the left, in case they didn't happen
to see it used one day long ago and have a good memory and then you
thank your lucky stars they happened to know that so they could slam it
down rather than mashing the gas and killing you because you were too
panicked to properly tell them what to do.

I also managed to electrocute myself today.

Thanks, I'll be here all night (if I can manage to keep myself alive
that long.

The Threads That Bind Us

It occurred to me today, as I was folding laundry, that all of us fold laundry. It's somewhat akin to taking a shit, or putting your pants on one leg at a time (a funny phrase, that-- I cannot be the only person who often sits down on the bed, puts her pants on halfway both legs at a time, then stands up to finish the job.)

I was thinking about how all of us, no matter how different we are, fold laundry. The crusty-haired crack head at the laundromat, the new young dad high on fatherhood, the cranky businesswoman, the harried mom with a baby on her hip and toddler at her side. Hands of all sorts shake and fold clothes of all sorts, all so foreign to each other they might not belong to the same planet, or similar as sisters living next door to one another who had their kids a week apart.

Then of course it occurred to me that not all people fold laundry after all. Some are so rich as to have others hired to do it for them. What a strange world we live in, that shines with every color on the spectrum, eh?

Then again, many crusty-haired crack heads probably don't fold laundry either.

It's interesting to think of all the different things people think of to occupy themselves while tackling a task such as laundry folding.

Clearly, my mind wanders.