Tuesday, July 31, 2007

....and your little dog too!!!

My mother-in-law's nasty ass Shih Tzu almost bought the farm today. I haven't laughed like that since the Chili Cook Off Joke.

Background story anyone?

My in-laws and I have a semi-decent relationship. By that I mean that they barely tolerate me and I refrain from murdering them in their sleep - works for everyone with the added bonus that I don't go to jail. So imagine my surprise when I volunteered to dog sit for them while they are on vacation. Not too bad... yet. What you all are not realizing is that in my home we have a small zoo: two dogs, a cat and a rabbit. We did have two toads, but the cat gave one of them a heart attack and ate the other one, so yay for the cat. On top of that this isn't your normal every day vacation. They are going to be gone for a full month and we get another forty-seven pounds of dog hair to clean up on a daily basis, in addition to our own dogs' sixteen pounds of hair. BUT, I was trying to do the right thing since they told us that they would have to kennel the dogs for a week down in North Carolina and it was going to cost them somewhere in the vicinity of $500 to do so. Altruism is dead and I figure I'll get the investment back one of these days *evil laughter follows*.

So we extended the offer to them. They hemmed and hawed (actually it was more like hee-haw, but you get it) and decided that they would graciously allow us the opportunity to experience life with four dogs in our house: a Black Lab and a Yorkie (ours) and a Golden Retriever and a Shih Tzu (theirs). It isn't that I don't like dogs, I do, but we literally have four "bitches" in our house now. The cat is going apeshit, hissing and arching his back which I have never seen him do and he now hides in our laundry room, or upstairs away from the evil clutches of Maggie the Over exuberant Golden Retriever who thinks he is her personal chew toy.

Actually the Golden isn't that bad, although she creates mounds of dog hair and smells like a homeless person's asshole after they get the winepoo from a couple of bottles of Boone's. But the Asshat Dustmop Shih Tzu, she can go straight to hell. She is pure evil in the form of what looks like a cute little furry dog. Instead she is a growling, rancid beast that is trying to drive me stark raving mad. I swear to ever loving heaven that she is out to get me. She watches me with her beady little black eyes and I can see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in their evil ebony depths. I have also caught her trying to sneak up on me at random times, so to discourage this, I will sneak up on her and yell Gotcha! at the top of my lungs - this actually made her piss on my carpet but it was worth it to see her turn into a shaking, sniveling mass of whimpering fur. She growls at me as soon as I get home and try to take her out of her kennel. So now I have to throw a blanket over her head to keep her from ripping me apart limb by limb like a little land bound piranha. I fucking hate this dog!!!!

So this evening, when I got home, I immediately put the two visiting demons onto their tethers in the back yard. This way they can stay out of my way and out from under my feet - I kick first and ask questions later. After dinner, I was out in my garage and my husband peeks his head out the door and says to me: "my mother almost came back to a dead dog." Almost? Almost? I've been trying my best to knock her off for the last couple of days, so what the fuck? Apparently the little spawn of Satan had managed to tangle herself up in SuperDiva's soccer net, not once or twice, but five times. She got the loops in the netting wrapped around her evil little puppy neck and was actually hanging from it, doggy feet flailing about.

Obviously Mr. ADW untangled the wretch from a disaster of her own making and came out to tell me what happened posthaste. As soon as I found out she didn't die, I started giggling. The giggles erupted into all out cackling as soon as I visualized the little fucking princess thrashing about and gasping for breath. That outta teach you for trying to turn my arm into a meaty bone treat. Karma's a bitch and she isn't limited to us humans anymore. Suck on that one you little hellspawn, I put a little extra something in your kibble tonight. Heeeee heeeee heeeee.

Monday, July 30, 2007

What Dreams May Come

I have heard people say that they never dream, which cannot possibly be true. A better explanation would be that they do not remember what they were dreaming about when they wake in the morning. I do not seem to suffer from that affliction, or blessing, as some may see it. Not only do I dream, but I get caught up in intricate stories and they are filled with vivid colors, people, places and things. While my subconscious is busy weaving these unbelievable tales, some part of me seems to be aware of the fact that what I am experiencing is not real, but it is almost like I am disjointed from myself and my mind is not able to will my body awake.

I once participated in a dream study for the psych department when I went away to school. I was looking forward to being hooked up to monitors overnight, excited by the prospect that perhaps these jaded graduate students could somehow understand what I go through when I slumber. Yeah, I was just a tad disappointed to say the least. It seemed to me that the only requirement for the study I participated in was a pulse and even then, I think they dragged in a homeless guy teetering on the brink of death to get the requisite number to continue the study. Instead of exciting medical equipment, monitors and sensors, we were asked a series of questions, paid five dollars and sent on our happy way. What a let down. To this day, I am still not even sure what it was they were studying, but it didn't seem very interesting and the testers weren't even attempting to pretend they cared what the outcome was. But the study did serve to make me even more aware that maybe not everybody out there has dreams like mine.

Last night was a new dream. Often, I find myself having the same dreams over and over with slight variations, but this new dream.... well I find myself not ever wanting to have that experience again. Sometimes it is difficult for me to remember even the most important details that occur, which is why I often hear analysts recommending that you keep a notebook by your bedside so that when you awake, you can write down the details. Once I am fully awake, it seems like a mist starts swirling around the memories and I struggle to grasp and hold onto the feelings and facts surrounding the dream.

I woke my husband up with the sound of my crying. As he was trying to soothe me, I became more and more agitated, flailing about and mumbling. I kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" over and over again. Eventually the crying became full fledged sobbing and somewhere in there, I woke up completely. He held me for a while, until the shaking stopped. He asked me what the dream was about, but I wasn't ready to talk about it. To be honest, I'm not really ready to talk about it now, but I want to see how many details I can remember. Eventually I calmed down enough to return to sleep and didn't wake again until late morning feeling like I was hungover and barely able to sit up in bed.

My dream, well I suppose some would call it a nightmare, started out innocently enough. My husband and I were in some kind of school - not too shocking there as 95% of my client base are school districts. Eventually the scene morphed, as dreams often do, into some type of hallway and my entire being was filled with a feeling of despair; I knew something bad was going to happen. I am not sure what occurred next as the details are blurry in my mind, but apparently there was some kind of murdering psychopath loose in the school and even though the building had been emptied, my sister and I were in it - yeah no more hubby, Tree showed up and we were some sort of special SWAT team. The halls were unlit and eerie and seemed to go on forever. We needed to get to the creepy old boiler room for reasons unknown to me, but we just HAD to go there. Somehow we ended up in the office of the school, which turned into the interior of a little white cottage. The room was filled with Christmas presents, bows tied, red and green ribbons trailing along the floor under a massive Christmas tree shining brightly with twinkling lights.

There was a bomb in one of the boxes and we needed to clear them all out of the room, but there were hundreds of them. Every time we took a pile outside of the building (which was the alleyway beside my Junior High School), more appeared to take their place. The kitchen smelled like baking cookies, but we were the only ones around. After what seemed like hours of labor, sweat dripping from our bodies, we finally cleared the room of everything, including the Christmas tree. Suddenly the killer appeared, stalking us. Tree disappears at this time and it is only me and the murdering scumbag who tried to blow up a school full of adolescents. I look around the kitchen frantically for something to use to defend myself (if I am SWAT where the effing hell is my machine gun?). I can't find any knives and there is nothing else I see to keep the dangerous madman at bay. I see nothing but a figure completely covered in black, no face, stalking me with a huge Rambo-like knife, the metal glinting in the darkened room. Then I spot some forks laying on the countertop next to my hand. I seem to remember some self-defense teacher saying that a woman alone at night can place her car keys between her fingers and use them to stab someone trying to attack her. So I pick up the pile of forks and fit them in between the fingers of each of my hands so that only the sharpened tines are poking out. As the figure quickly advances, I decide to take the initiative and lunge toward it, hands outstretched. The tines of the forks penetrate deep into this person's body and it falls toward me, arms outstretched. The figure in black then morphs into my grandmother, eyes beginning to glaze over, blood seeping out of her lips, she asks me "why?", again and again. I have no explanation and I start crying out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I wake up to my husband's not so gentle shaking. My crying turns into full fledged sobbing and my heart feels like it is being ripped out of my chest. My now conscious mind can't seem to digest what happened in the dream and I feel like my brain is being ripped out of my body. I don't calm down for a while and the next thing I know, I have a cat and a kid in my bed and the sun is almost halfway through the sky.

This is the most accurate account I can give for the dream, but few more things came back to me once I walked away from this post. At some point in time, Johnny Knoxville and Steve-O from Jackass were in a dingy old Sports Bar in the cellar of the school building taking bets on who the murderer was and Steve-O was trying to get my sister and I to do body shots. He sought to impress us with his "beer on the head, can drink it without spilling a drop" trick, but I have really seen that trick done by him in person and my sleeping self just wasn't impressed enough to see it again. My sister fades in and out of the dream at different times as well, but is there for the largest portion of it. My hubs disappears and never comes back, but he IS there for me during the aftermath.

I know that there are all kinds of dream analysts out there and everyone's opinion, educated as they may be, is different. For me, I got some pretty great news yesterday morning. Tree called to tell me something fantastic. I guessed correctly before she could even say it. She and her husband of nine years are finally going to have a baby and I couldn't be more excited for them. Maybe the dream was my way of sorting through my feelings about the pregnancy: I can no longer have children, my grandmother - the woman who raised us until Tree was 16 - will never get the chance to see this child and maybe even the fact that I have been feeling abandoned my the hubby for the last little while. The thing that stood out for me though, was the unabated joy that I felt knowing that I was going to be an auntie again. Now I can teach her kid all of the bad things to do and send him or her drum sets and whistles for Christmas.

That's all I've got for now. Anybody else have crazy dreams like that, or is it just me????

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Miss Kitty, Don't Read This.

For the longest time, I thought that I would be a student for life. It's the one thing that I am really good at. In high school, I graduated with a 4.0 and was an excellent student despite having a horrible home life and working two jobs - one of them in a bar. In fact, a lot of my classmates thought that I was one of those Miss Goody-Two-Shoes asslicking suckups. For a while they were correct. That was until my Junior year and I discovered partying and tanning and contact lenses and boys and bad behavior. Still, most people would look at me and see the straight A student, not the girl who liked to come to her first period class - I was a High School Office Aide (fucking dorks) - baked out of her brain. I would literally light one up before school and then pass out on the first available desk with my head down while telling the secretary that I had massive cramps. To this day I am sure that the good old folks at my high school thought I was gushing 75% of the time.

I also had my own office, sort of. One of my friends and I were Student Council president and vice-president and it was our responsibility to do the Muscular Dystrophy Drive our Senior Year culminating in a Spring Fling dance. We were constantly "working" on the project. What we were really doing was leaving school and going to the mall or out to eat or smoking a fatty. I mean really, what were we thinking? If we would have gotten caught, we both would have been beaten to within an inch of our lives. For those infractions, I am sure I would have been sent to the hospital. Anyway, my point is that even when I was sneaking out and partying and being a regular fuck-up, I could still pull down really good grades.

When I finally shed myself of the useless void that was my ex-husband, I went back to college to get my degree. I worked two and three jobs at a time, while taking care of my small child and having an elderly grandmother who lived with me - she did help out a lot and I was very lucky in that regard. But I still worked my ass off - literally - as a waitress, bartender, Levi's rep, Labatt Blue girl, Accounting intern and a bunch of other jobs while taking a FULL work load at school. On that sunny day when I graduated (no I didn't actually go - I think I got drunk instead), I did so with a 3.9 GPA and a total of three B's on my student record. That's right bitches, I had almost perfect grades throughout college and I'm proud of it. I would still like to go back to school, but with work and family it looks like that will be taking a back seat for a few years.

Why am I wasting your precious time with this unbelievably boring information about myself? Well I actually do have a point. My husband is now in school. His schooling is paid for by the giant corporation that he works for. In fact, at any time over the last ten years, he could have taken classes at no cost to himself, but did he? Why no, he did not. He was perfectly content in the job he had and instead chose to race cars and motorcycles and chase some truly nasty ass - I've seen the pictures and all I have to say is he really should worship me more than he does. But now, the environment that he works in is changing and he needs to change jobs. While he is already in a transition program, it would really help if he had a degree, so he is going back to school for it. And he is bitching and moaning the whole fucking time about the stress and pressure and papers and exams and his work load. Is he taking 2 or 3 classes a semester, you ask? Why no, he takes exactly one class per semester, no more, no less.

So I have this to say to him:


Actually, I have been helping him out with his classes since he is all old and decrepit and can't remember back to when he was in high school and I can't stand around and watch while someone gets less than an A - it offends me. His first class last fall was American History. I wrote all of his papers. We got an A. His class this past Spring was Accounting - I interned in one of my accounting professor's offices. Needless to say, we got an A in that class as well. Now he is taking a computer class that he has 5 weeks to finish, some kind of crazy accelerated learning program. I told him he was out of his fucking mind and that I had enough to do and that since he works in technology, he would be a complete assjack to not get an A in the class. Turns out there is a paper. For the class. Due tomorrow. Fuck meeeee. So I did what I am second best at - negotiating. He has to clean our entire house from top to bottom, including bathrooms, plus give me two 1 hour long full body massages without trying to hump me and I will write his paper.

So it is finished. He now has a beautifully written, eight page paper, complete with outline, cover page and nine cited references in the MLA format. I do not have a spotless house. Yet. I do not have all of the muscles in my body singing out in joy after being rubbed and squeezed and karate chopped. But I will. Oh, but I will.

And if Miss Kitty of Educated and Poor stops by and sees this, I am telling her some crazy hacker, whacked out on coke or Lindsey Lohan, got into my blog and framed me and is now blackmailing me for money to use to buy blow or crack or meth or whatever. But in the meantime, I am reveling in all of my literary glory. Altruism is dead and in it's place is what really makes the world go round - capitalism and a conniving mind.

Oh and did I mention that I really only needed to get 13 out of 50 points on the paper for the hubs to get an A in the class, but I followed the syllabus to the letter and produced the best paper a computer teacher will ever see. Boooooo-yahhhhhhhh!

I just re-read this post and I am the worlds largest dork.

But then I looked at my shoe pictures and I do have some sexy shoes. The person filling them out? Not bad either.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

The Shoes

By popular demand I am posting pictures of the shoes that I purchased on Peep Toe Friday.

These lovelies are a deep Sapphire Blue and pair perfectly with shorts or a casual skirt:

Rarrrhhhh! Black Animal Print. Completely decadent and in no way necessary, I find that they go well with nothing, but I wear them anyway.

Lovely red heels with an ecru braided trim. These glorious gam elongaters bring to mind a picnic in Central Park or a casual day on the yacht. Neither of which I am likely to have any time soon, but you never know.

Cute little white wedges. They are in no way comfortable, but who the fuck cares. Although in this picture, I do look like I am sporting the start of some serious cankle action. I need to rethink my future as a shoe model.

I saved the best for last, my four inch platform beige lovelies. I have already worn these several times and I love, love, love them. They go well with almost anything and are way more comfy than they look.

Now before you all start your bitching about the picture quality, I had Super Diva take these and she did the best she could. I am a temperamental model and she was constantly procuring copious amounts of liquor and underage Guatemalans to keep me happy while snapping off hundreds of shots. Due to the structure of my parole - the particulars I am not allowed to disclose - I shouldn't even be posting pictures of ANY part of my body, but since there are no specific characteristics that are shown, unless super sexiness counts, I should be OK and not have to finish that suspended 3 year sentence. I got out on "good behavior" or as I like to call it - good headgiver.

I will not be disclosing the make or model of the shoes, but what I will say is that I enjoy all types of shoes from various designers. My favorites (that I can somewhat afford) are BCBG and Guess. One of these days I will buy me a fancy pair of Manolos or Jimmy Choos, but until then, I am rocking out any way I can.

Monday, July 23, 2007

10 Things I'd Rather Do

Than go camping:
  • Remove my own tooth with a rusted out fork, subsequently exposing myself to infection and death.

  • Spend a night in Gary, Indiana.... If Newark is the armpit of America, then Gary is the Vaginal Wart. Ughhhh.

  • Be forced to not purchase lovely, wonderful, soul enlightening shoes for a year.

  • Perform lewd sexual acts with Rush Limbaugh.

  • Eat Mushrooms. I am not a picky eater, but I refuse to ingest something that thrives in a pile of shit. The mere smell of a mushroom is enough to keep me from eating a meal and I have actually vomited after accidentally consuming a dish with mushrooms in it. I know it is a pet peeve of servers, but I WILL LIE and tell people I am allergic to the fucking little bastards to keep them out of my food.

  • Babysit ALL 12 of my nieces and nephews overnight at the same time. My husband might be sacrificed upon the alter of their unholy demands and evil actions, but I am pretty sure I can survive.

  • Be staked to an anthill, naked, covered in honey. Shut up you sick fuckers... nasty asses, thinking about me all gooey and nekkid and tied down...

  • Sleep Naked. OK, so that sounds pretty normal, but I have a huuuge pet peeve about sleeping in the buff. Everyone has heard the statistic that the average person swallows 3-4 spiders a year while they are sleeping. Well, once I thought about it, I decided that I am not taking the chance that one of those hairy mother fuckers is going to make its way into my creamy nougat center if I can help it. Yeah, yeah, you're all thinking I'm crazy and that there is no way a spider could make it up there unless I spent the last 10 years being fisted by Andre the Giant's dead corpse, but I ain't taking no chances with the vajayjay.

  • Photocopy my girlie bits and e-mail them to my entire client list.

  • Wear a Michigan Wolverines jersey during every game that THE OHIO STATE BUCKEYES play this coming football season. I know that Florida whooped our asses in the National Championship game this year, but I still despise Michigan Football with every fiber of my being. To wear one of their jerseys would be sacrilegious and would most likely result in the demise of my marriage since Mr. ADW is the craziest Ohio State fan I know. In fact, he would probably make me do items 1-9 on this list if I even brought up the subject of becoming a Michigan fan. Psycho.

News flash, I hate camping. Actually, hate is too mild of a word for doing something that I abhor as much as "roughing" it in the wilderness. And by wilderness, I mean a camper with TV and air conditioning and a kitchen and shower. But still, I have lived in a camper FOUR times in my life - extended periods lasting up to two and a half years. Suffice it to say that I am sooooo over camping. There is absolutely zero appeal to me in packing up half our shit and moving it to a smaller place to vacation for a week. Give me an all-inclusive resort with 24-hour childcare any day over bugs and beasts and the certain guaranteed percentage of white trash hillbillies that frequent even the nicest campgrounds. Blech. I say it again - blech!!!!

FUCK Camping and the horse it rode in on.

That is all.

P.S. Blogger is an asshole - this was supposed to post at midnight, but it got hung up. I've also been having issues with not being able to enter in the Title Bar....

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I'm a Fool

If you read the title of this post, then reading this part is probably redundant, but go ahead. I am an asshole. I have well documented evidence of my ass-holey behavior through the last.... well less than thirty years. Anyhoo, normally I can keep the fact that I am a complete freak out of business settings. Over the last four years, I have had a lot of practice burying my smart-mouth tendencies and over the top humor while associating with my clients. The fact that these people are the reason I get paid made it a little easier than I normally thought it would be. So I mentally flip the bitch switch when I am out at job sites or meeting with customers for presentations or talking to a Board of Education. Changing my ways is a struggle, but I have done a damn good job of hiding my true self from the judgemental eyes and ears of the Public Sector that I serve.

That all changed this week.

This week my friends, I had a complete and utter meltdown in the middle of a brand spanking new school building. This school district just happens to be disgustingly wealthy and I have a HUGE project on the line with them for two different technology implementations. My meltdown was witnessed by my two engineers, the technology representative from the school and about 15 other guys that were doing finalized work to get the building ready for August.

What was this outrageous behavior? Did I physically attack someone? Did I throw a computer through a wall? Did I take out a drill and relieve some dickwad fuckup of his manhood? Nah... I didn't do any of that. What I did was laugh. Yes I laughed and laughed until I had tears rolling down my face. The echoes of my laughter were carried through the halls and out of the building. I laughed until my BACK hurt. Now if any of you have laughed that hard, you know what I am talking about. It physically hurt to laugh anymore, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I was in hysterics. By the time I had stopped laughing and walked out into the main hallway, 36 eyes swung my way to see what the eff was going on. At first I was mortified. I mean I am a professional. I should not have lost my composure like that, but I could not help myself. Then I saw the faces of the people around me. Most of them had no clue what the fuck was going on. I could have had a complete mental breakdown and be ready for the loony bin, but about half of them were laughing along with me. My laughter had become contagious and even though those guys didn't know why they were laughing, my freakishly loud donkey hee-haws had tickled them just enough to come out with some chuckles of their own.

After I wiped my eyes, we all got back to work. I NEVER forward jokes on through e-mail. You will NEVER get a chain letter from me. But below is one of the funniest things I have read in a really long time and I thought I would share it with you. I figured if I liked it, then maybe you would as well. I can tell you that you should not read this in an area where laughter is not tolerated. Some examples would be: Guantanamo Bay, the Mighty Dyckerson's pants, the CCU of Rainbow, Babies and Children's Hospital, Washington D.C. or the poop deck of a Russian Trawler. Anyway, please take a minute to read this and let me know what you think. Myself... well I peed a little in my pants.

Texas Chili
If you can read the whole story without cracking up, preferably with tears
running down your cheeks then there's no hope for you you are a complete douchebag.
NOTE: Please take time to read this slowly. If you pay
attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third is even

For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how
true this is. They actually have a Chili cook-off about the time the rodeo
comes to town. It takes up a major portion of the parking lot at the Astrodome.

The notes below are from an inexperienced chili taster named Frank, who
was visiting Texas from the East:
"Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a
chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and
I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking directions
to the Budweiser truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other
two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy
and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I
accepted." Here are the scorecards from the event:

Chili # 1 Mike's Maniac Mobster Monster Chili
Judge # 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 -- Nice, smooth, tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) -- Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could
remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to
put the flames out. I hope that's worst one. These Texans are crazy.

Chili # 2 Arthur's Afterburner Chili
Judge # 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken
Judge # 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what
I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people
who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more
beer when they saw the look on my face.

Chili # 3 Fred's Famous Burn Down the Barn Chili
Judge # 1 -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick. Needs more beans.
Judge # 2 -- A bean less chili, a bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 -- Call the EPA. I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels
Like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me
More beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my
backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting shit-faced from
all of the beer.

Chili # 4 Bubba's Black Magic
Judge # 1 -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish
for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable
To taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the barmaid, was
standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-lb. bitch is starting to
look HOT-just like this nuclear waste I'm eating. Is chili an

Chili # 5 Linda's Legal Lip Remover
Judge # 1 -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground,
Adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2 -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must
Admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I
can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed
paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her
chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by
pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my lips
It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop
Screw those rednecks.

Chili # 6 Vera's Very Vegetarian Variety
Judge # 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of
spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and
garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous,
sulphuric flames. I shit myself when I farted and I'm worried it will
eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that
slut Sally. She must be kinkier than I thought. Can't feel my lips
I need to wipe my ass with a snow cone.

Chili # 7 Susan's screaming Sensation Chili
Judge # 1 -- A mediocre chili with too much reliance on peppers.
Judge # 2 -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of IAM’s
Worried about Judge # 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as
He is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I
wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds
like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which
slide unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava like shit to match
my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they'll know what
killed me. I've decided to stop breathing, its too painful. Screw it;
I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I'll just suck it in
Through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.

Chili #8 Tommy's Toe-Nail Curling Chili
Judge # 1 -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too
Bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 -- This final entry is a good, balance chili. Neither mild
Nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge # 3 passed out,
Fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not
sure if he's going to make it.
Poor dude, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili?

OK. So I know that this is potty humor, but it's what tickles my giggle bones. I really hope that you all found this as funny as I did. For those of you who didn't enjoy the joke, you may need psychiatric care. Or surgery to reinsert an appreciation for the absurd into your life.


Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Manho Cho, Jesus and Peep Toe Friday

I love my stylist. He is a complete freak, so it is quite possible that we were separated at birth. I long ago dubbed him ManHo Cho. Let me set the stage if you will. ManHo is Vietnamese. He was born in Vietnam, but moved to America about 20 years ago. He is flamboyantly gay. He is about 5' 2" tall, wears glitter all over, is addicted to extremely tight Dolce and Gabanna pants with shiny belt buckles and has the best body I have ever seen on a man. I am serious. He is like 2% body fat - it disgusts me.

ManHo also has the best accent ever. It is a gay Asian accent. The closest person I can compare him to is Hank the wedding planner from "Father of the Bride", but with an Asian accent. This makes it somewhat difficult to understand him if you are a new customer, but I know exactly what he is talking about at any time.

Manho: "Wha you wan done with you hayar?" (What do you want done with your hair)

Me: "Whatever, just don't fuck it up."

Me: "I think blonder."

Manho: "OK. We do you up rike Grease Silverspoon."

Me: "The fuck?"

Manho: "You know you look a lot rike Grease Silverspoon, but you prettier than she is and you make me raf."

Me: ".......hmmmm...thinking. Oh shit, you me Reese Witherspoon."

Manho: "Dat's what I say - Grease Silverspoon"

Me: *Snort, Snort* "You are fucked up. Why am I your personal Barbie Doll?"

Manho: "You ret me do whatevah I want and we always makes you rook fah-bu-lous, yes?"

Me: "Yeah. Plus I tip you a shitload, so I better look good."

Manho: "You so funny. We love ADW."

So last week, I went in to get my hair done at the last minute and subsequently had to share chair time with a really cool chick named Stacey. She writes copy for Greeting Cards which fucking rocks. I can't even imagine the foulness that would ensue if I had that job. Even better, I know a crazy, Diet Coke swilling gorilla who writes effing fantastic postcards - go see them here. But anyway, I was a few minutes late because there was a SICK ASS shoe sale at Macy's. I got five pairs of extremely beautiful shoes and the best part was that they were all on sale. They were also all peep-toed, but I don't care because I have an addiction that I never want to go away. So while I was waiting for ManHo to mix my color, he demanded that I model the shoes for him and Stacey. I did and had all of the stylists commenting on how fabulous my new shoes were. They really are beautiful. I will post some pics of my shoes up here soon. It is a real illness and my husband is an enabler...

So after a mutual admiration session and a lot of oohing and ahhing, Man Ho got down to the business of making me look fabulous. Actually, I am already fabulous, but he iced me up a little bit. At one point in time, I was bent over at the waist in his chair staring at his flip flops and french-manicured toe nails (I once convinced him to have his toenails painted white with black Asian Characters on them - it fucking rocked) when he started talking about his new gym. Previously, we were both members of the same gym until I realized what a waste of my hard earned cash that was. I mean why work out when you can snort coke all day long to stay skinny? But I digress. This is going to be difficult to get just right, but I am going to try.

The Gym Conversation:

Me: "You switched gyms?"

ManHo: "Yah. XXXX Gym was being too white trash foh me."

Me: "Where are you working out now?"

ManHo: "Wallllll. I go to XXXX gym now. Look at me. Feel my arms."

At this point in time, he flips me up and out of the chair and makes me feel his body. Oh my fucking shit. I have NEVER in my life felt a hotter body. The fact that it was on a flaming gay Asian Dude made me sad since there is no chance for the ladies out there to enjoy those huge arms and rock-hard abs. Then he shoves me back into my seat and flips me back over.

Me: "Are you on fucking steroids? Because your arms are HUUUGGGEEE!!!"

ManHo: "Ha, Ha. You know I no put no drugs in my body. I wook owt awl de time. You feel how big my ahms get?"

Me: "Yup. Too bad you're gay. Fuck."

Me: "Wait a second. I KNOW you don't go prancing around in that white unitard and glitter like you did at our old gym. No frigging way do they let you get away with that at the new one. What do you wear?"

Manho: "Well I am more cohn-sew-va-tive at the new prace (place). I wear T-Shirt and Showt Pants."

Me: "Explain these "Short" pants to me."

ManHo: "Wayall.. Dey ahr black and tight and dey go down to here." He is now pointing to mid calf.

Me: Laughing hysterically. "Dude you are wearing fucking CAPRIs to the gym. Capri pants. Can you get any gayer?"

We laugh and joke for the rest of the time I am getting my blond on and then I switch seats with Stacey and he starts her cut. I am doing my normal clown routine; making jokes and poking fun at all of the fug walking by the window when Stacey stops laughing and asks ManHo if I am his favorite customer. I cut them off before he can answer and tell her that he loves all of his customers the same (He really doesn't play favorites). Then I proceed to hear the funniest thing I have heard in a really long time:

ManHo: "I rove all of my peoples duh same."

Me: "He really does."

ManHo: "I really do. I am rike Jesus. I love all da peoples da same. Yes I am rike Jesus."

Pan the camera to Stacey and I falling out of our chairs laughing. You can't help but love a hairdresser that compares himself to Jesus. Straight or Gay; Christian, Atheist or in between, the fact that he compared himself to Jesus has got to make you laugh. The fact that he was serious and said that with a straight face is even funnier. You should have seen the looks that we were getting from the rest of the uptight, stick-in-the-ass, lock jawed titlickers in the joint. It was PRICELESS!!!

Saturday, July 14, 2007


Mailing it in..... BBS posted this MEME a while ago and I am finally responding:

1. What's the last mistake you made? I shot a man in Reno. Just. To. Watch. Him. Die.

2. Is the sun shining? Inside my ass? Always.

3. Can you successfully blow up and tie a balloon? Only out of necessity and then only if it is filled with a white powdery substance. I then insert it into the sunshine. See Question #2.

4. Do you like text messaging? What, who came up with these stupid ass questions?

5. Are you having a good/bad hair day? I just shaved my head, so they're all good hair days from now on out.

6. What was your last purchase? Earplugs. It helps me hear the voices inside of my head much better than before.

7. Are you wearing any make-up right now? Only to cover the bruises.

8. What are your plans for later? Well, it's 1:00 in the morning and my sleep schedule is all fucked up, so at some point in time, I am planning to crash. We'll see how soon I wind down. If only those voices would quit screaming.

9. What is your favorite DDR song? Never heard of 'em, but personally I like "Raisins in my Toast". It is only found on jukeboxes at the Waffle/Huddle House(s).

10. Is there any drama within your life? Only the drama I create. Right now I have my brother convinced he is pregnant.

11. What is a song they need to stop playing on the radio? All of them. I almost only listen to Sports Talk Radio, so I could give a shit.

12. Are you content with life right now? Uh, haven't you been reading me? I mean everyone reads me, right? Right? Stupid ass question.

13. Does anyone like you? The homeless man on West 6th street. I just bought him a new pack of plastic barrettes for his hair.

14. What is your current obsession? Figuring out how to take over the world. With the incompetent leaders in power right now, my estimated time table for complete world-domination is counting down at 2 years, 4 months, 1 day and 2 seconds.

15. Do you have your license? Yeah, my license to ill.

16. Ever been kissed under mistletoe? You're supposed to kiss under it? That explains the rash I get every holiday season. My OB/GYN was stumped.

17. Would you ever smile at a stranger? Boring...

18. Ever done a random act of kindness? Well, I didn't murder anyone today. That seems both random and kind to me.

19. Do your toenails have nail polish on them? I lost my toenails in that horrific accident three years ago. Why the fuck would you bring that up?

20. When is the last time you wore eyeliner? Still bored...

21. Last curse word you said was? I believe the last one I SAID was cumguzzling twatmonger

22. Are your lips chapped? No but my ass is from all of these stupid questions.

23. Are you currently jealous? Of????

24. Do you own an ipod? No, but I am about to get out my cattle prod and use it on the person who came up with this MEME.

25. Did you have a dream last night? Not one I remember, but last weekend I dreamt that I was being attacked by baby mosquitoes and proceeded to beat my husband about the face until he woke me up.

26. Are you mad at anyone? The guy at the Japanese place who managed to mix shellfish in with my food after I told three different people I was allergic to it. I should hunt his dipshit pigfucking ass down and shit in HIS toilet. Fucking dillhole.

27. Who is the most random person you know? Are you going to die tomorrow? What cow produces the best whey? Is there going to be an olive oil Olympics in Rome this year? Fuck off with these questions.

28. What's going on this weekend? For you, I would imagine copious amount of jacking off to Episode VI of Star Wars. For me? Naked Water Slides. Guess who gets carpal tunnel and guess who gets laid this weekend? Much better question.

29. Done any spring cleaning lately? Why is it called Spring Cleaning? I. Do. Not. Clean. That is what illegal immigrants are for.

30. Anything bothering you? The thought of going to prison and becoming Big Bertha's fun bag after I take a soldering gun to your eye sockets.

32. Did you wish for anything last night on 11:11? You are a loser.

33. Do you drink coffee on a regular basis? It keeps me from smoking crack.

34. Do you wish you were someone else? I wish you were someone else.

35. What jewelry are you wearing? My Ruby and Platinum strap-on. Guess who gets the first go round?

36. Ate any exotic food lately? Toxic, not exotic.

37. I deleted this question due to its sheer level of stupidity. Instead, I would like to note that it is highly unlikely that I will ever reply to another one of these piece of shit MEMEs again unless someone has a damn good one.

38. Are you easily amused? Sorry, what was the question. I was thinking about the last time I bathed in Pistachio pudding.

39. Can you lick your elbow? There are way better places to be able to lick than my elbow.

40. Do you know this song, "we stay fly no lie you know this"? Is that Hilary Clinton's new campaign song?

41. What piercings do you have? I have/had a total of 11 piercings once upon a time. Use your imagination.

42. Do you have a crush right now? Can I beat your brains in with a pogo stick right now?

43. What are your plans over the summer? To blow the entire Cleveland Indians starting rotation.

44. How's life going for you? By the looks of this, way better than yours is.

45. What is on your mind just this second? I am so glad this is over and I am oddly aroused by the thought of bathing in pudding again.

Sorry I had to subject you all to this. I suck.


Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Thank you, thank you, thank you...

It's nice to know that there are others out there who feel the same way that I do....

That being said, I think that it helped to get a lot of that crap off of my chest. I did speak with someone yesterday who went through a lot of the same issues that I did - my sister. We had a fairly similar childhood, although she got out at sixteen and got to spend some "kid time" with our father and mother (I call my stepmom my mom - she rocks). I talked over some of the issues with her and she went through a lot of what I am going through now, but she got help. She told me that it was amazing what talking to someone about her problems did for her. We talked at length about the five W's - who, what, when, where, why and now the How - as in how to get better - is up to me.

I know that I now have to do something that I have put off for a very long time - a lot of the ways I tried to "put it off" are listed in the previous post - I have to get help. My family has a history of mental illnesses and I DO NOT want to end up like the egg donor - she is completely batshit crazy and while I do not think that I am that bad, if I don't take those steps now, I will end up just like her which is my biggest fear in life.

And to address what Dr. Kenneth Noisewater commented on - I have verbally expressed these feelings to my husband - MANY times and it has gotten me nowhere. He is a wonderful man and has put up with a lot of crap from me, but he shies away from any discussions on this subject. I told him in no uncertain terms that if we do not address this problem, it will destroy our marriage and our life together and while I believe that he wants me to be happy, I honestly am not sure if he will be able to cope with what needs to be put into resolving the mess that is his wife.

So we shall see what comes to pass in this particular phase in my life.....

As for now, I feel so much better (today at least) and the pressure has eased. I am not all sunshine and kitten farts and way far from a perfect person. Hell, I don't know anyone who qualifies for sainthood. What I do know is that I can get through the dark periods. And I will talk to a qualified person and see how I feel about the options that are out there for me. While we all know I like a good buzz, I am not sure if medication is right for me, but I am not the expert.

But thank you for your very honest opinions and the great offers to talk it out. You may just get an e-mail from me the next time I get like this. I really appreciate the similar stories that were related and it made me feel better to know that others do go through this. I hesitated on writing that post, but only good things have come out of it for me, so that rocked!!!

Not to keep being a downer, but three people were killed here in the Cleveland Area by a firefighter who shot them when the party they were having next door became too rowdy for his taste. You can read about it here. One of the guys that was murdered worked at the same place I worked at for three years. While I was not acquainted with him (he started after I left), I still have friends at the establishment. Please keep the three victims in your thoughts and/or prayers.

I sincerely appreciate every single one of you - even the ones who just read and never comment.


Monday, July 9, 2007

Going Low

Today is super shitty. I am depressed and saddened and miserably unhappy. I think I need help. Gone is the witty, pithy gal who will dance and be merry for you and in her place is this lump of inhumanity who just wants to shut it down for a while. I don't know why I am the way I am, but if this shit keeps going, I don't know how much more I can handle.

So what do I have to be grateful for:
1. A man who does really love me - I think
2. 2 great kids - I know
3. A good job
4. A fantastic home
5. Probably some other shit

What am I doing:
Fucking it all up because I don't know how to be happy....

I am drinking more and more often and doing stupid shit like not coming home until 2 in the morning and hurting my family. And I am not talking the normal have a few pops at the bar drinking. I am talking about getting black out shit faced drunk and acting like a lunatic and then going home at some point in the evening. I can't seem to deal with either my past or my present and I get in these "moods" where I decide to drink it away. I am not kidding around about the drinking either. We're talking a 5'6" 126 pound woman drinking about a half a bottle of Captain Morgan's with a bottle of wine and shots added in for good measure.

I know that what I am doing is wrong. I am not a total moron, although I have really been acting like one lately. I go through these phases where I try to be the person I should be, the do-it-all wife and mother, but I can't seem to keep at it and then I fall - HARD. I honestly believe that I cannot deal with my life going well and subconsciously, I try to sabotage myself because the only way I know how to fully function is in misery. I DO NOT feel sorry for myself, because I am an adult and responsible for my own actions, but I am at the end of my rope. I just can't keep hurting the people who love and care about me.

Why am I acting this way:
Do I really need a reason? I honestly don't know how to be anything but superficially happy. Deep down inside of me there is an emptiness that I have never been able to fill. I've tried booze and drugs and sex and all kinds of other tripe, but when it comes down to it, nothing fills that hole for me. Everything I try just ends up leaving me with regrets and every time I do something stupid or fuck up in some way, the hole gets a little bit deeper and a little bit wider.

So how do I get out of this. Counseling? I've thought about it, but I don't like talking to the people I know, much less some total stranger that I have to pay for the privilege. Medication? That's another option, but I would have to see some type of doctor first and then we are back to the talking thing.

I think that my best option is to have a new start. I have begged and pleaded with Mr. ADW to consider moving to Georgia to be closer to my family (dad and mom(step)). My closest family member lives 360 miles away and while I am grateful for my friends, I really have no one around. I am the girl that was always friends with everyone, but never really had that one true blue, be there whenever friend. And I miss my family. Since I became an adult and had a chance to have a relationship with them, they have been wonderful, but I missed out on the whole growing up with them part and would like to be around them more often.

It's funny to me because everyone always thinks that I have such a great life, and I kind of do. What they don't see is the girl who used to get beat growing up, or the one who had an uncle try to molest her, or the one who was called names and made fun of by peers and parents alike, or the one who is dealing with a second cancer scare... And while my husband is great and wonderful, he would rather ignore all of that shit and pretend like it isn't happening, which makes my behavior even worse. I almost feel like I am saying, "please look at me. Do you see me for what I really am? Help me deal with this or cut me loose because I can't deal with this much longer."

Anyway, that is all of have. This rambling mess of a post. I think I just needed to get it all out. Plus it was time for you to see the other side of me. I am dark and scary and scarred and a complete fucked up mess. Not such a funny party girl anymore am I? )=


Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Is this some kind of cruel joke?

Holy shite!!! I got nominated as a Rockin' Girl Blogger from three sexy bitches and I am not sure what to say. At first I thought it was some mean joke that was being played on the dorky kid at school with the thick glasses and her nose constantly in a book, but then I realized that it was for reals ya'll.

Since each nomination was done differently, I randomly picked a name out of my dildo drawer and I will be following the outline of Tug's post. But each one of these ladies is super fucking great in her own way.

Tug of Just Tug is suprisingly nasty for a grandma and has a heart of gold. Unless you fuck with her family and then she'll slice your throat you dirty buggers.

I want to grow up to be GlamourPuss of The Pole Affair. She is super confident and knows how to work a pole like a fat man at a pie eating contest. I think she should go on a tour across America (she's a sexy Brit) and teach Pole Dancing along the way.

And Mim, who may be related to me somehow, but I like her anyway (=

So now it is my turn to answer some questions and then bestow this honor on some "ladies" (snort, snort) that I love as much as these three.

So here goes:

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

1. Freelance Cynic
2. Are We There Yet??
3. It's A Blog Eat Blog World
4. More Random Than Average
5. Bluepaintred
6. Wasting Away in Blogaritaville
7. Amy's Random Thoughts
8. Just Tug
9. ExHootersGirl AKA ADW

I'm lazy, so I am just adding my name to the bottom to save time and energy. Next select five people to tag, then answer the following questions:

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Trying to figure out how I ended up married with a child at the age of 18 and how to make my life better while minimizing the collateral damage.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Trying to figure out how I ended up married a second time (with a 2nd child) before I turned 30 to someone who loves me more than anything and how to keep myself from fucking it up.

Five snacks you enjoy:
Fried Squirrel Pubes
Bacon with a side of raw carrots
The still beating heart of any endangered species
Deep Throating Fudgecicles

Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
Gimme That Nut - Eazy E
Seven Spanish Angels - Willie Nelson and Ray Charles
Amazing Grace
Smack My Bitch Up - Prodigy
Welcome to the Jungle - Guns 'n Roses

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
Pay off my mortgage
Buy a second home in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico
Get 10,000 in brand new one dollar bills and then fuck for 24 hours straight while laying in a bed lined with the money
Buy a really great hammock
Hire Willie Nelson to play at my next party

Five bad habits:
Pimpslapping random strangers and the odd Jehovah's Witness who wander to my door
Not having enough foul words in my repertoire
Being crotchety while talking on the phone
Having unprotected sex with my husband - my man candy would be pissed if I got knocked up again
Masturbating on the Ohio Turnpike
Using my teeth while giving head

Five things you like doing:
The occasional Pony
I draw the line at anything else

Five things you would never wear again:
A ball gag
A red bandanna = apparent danger in any downtown area
Nipple Paint
Tube Tops

Five favorite toys:
Umm, you don't really want me to answer this do you?

And now, to tell five others "You Rock!", while trying to figure out who hasn't already been told. Trying to bring in some new blood here...and trust me...they ALL.ROCK. YOU all rock.

1. Amy
2. Britt
3. Legal Eagle
4. DangerDoll
5. Miss Kitty

I heart each one of the ladies listed above for various reasons and I am sure that they have already been tagged, but there you go.


Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Oh Why Has Africa Foresaken Me?

My little blog has been getting some visitors lately. Places like the Americas and Europe and a really odd spot called Oceanus. But no one from Africa has stopped by to read or comment or laugh or cry with me. I don't understand. If anyone should have African traffic it is me. Why I am a true friend of the black man. I even earned the nickname "chocolate on the inside."

Oh, elaborate on the whole chocolate thing? OK. For you, anything you ask. You see, I have left little tidbits around and dropped hints about the fabulous childhood that I had. And by fabulous, I mean truly awful and psychotic. At one point in time (and not the only time this happened), I lived in a campground in Kissimmee, Florida. This was one of the four places I resided when I was attending the first grade. While staying at the white trash Ritz Carlton, I was required to attend school. In my first grade class, I was the only "white" student. We had African-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Cuban-Americans, some not so Americans, but everyone looked different from me. I used to go home in tears because I didn't know how to double-dutch and I couldn't twist my hair up and get it to stay in those neat little colored plastic barrettes. But slowly I started to make friends. It helped that I had an odd name and that the rest of the girls in my family had even odder names than I did. To this day, if I tell people what our names are, they take an extra minute to give me another look-see and pay an inordinate amount of attention to my skin tone. I was introduced to other cultures and belief systems and I learned about really cool foods and eventually, I could double-dutch with the best of them.

Years later, when I started working at Hooters, I ended up becoming friends with the most fantastic girl who we still call Chocolate Bunny. After joking around one day about my experiences growing up and my culturally different friends, she decided that I was "chocolate on the inside." The nickname stuck and we still joke around about it to this day. But I will always be grateful for the varied places that I lived while growing up because I think that by being exposed to other cultures, I now have a greater appreciation for the differences in people as a whole. And while people often look at me and see a blond-haired, green-eyed white girl, I know that I am much more than that. I am Spanish by the nationality of my birth. I can trace some of my ancestors back to 17th century Bavaria and I am Choctaw Indian on my Maternal Grandfather's side of the family.

So why then does Africa continue to forsake me? I guess I'll have to start dropping fucks and cunts and cocksuckers in Swahili and Zulu and Xhosa and Ndebele so that those nice folks drop by and comment.

So here we go:

My bastardized Swahili swear words (I am not sure if all of these are correct)

mlingoti-mkuu = dick head

Kum-lamba = cunt licker

fanya mapenze = fuck

Uclambeshapa = I'll Fuck You Up

Basher = Ass Fucker

Una tombwa na punda = You are being fucked by a donkey

Now come visit me because I am a dirty whore in a whole new language.

Sunday, July 1, 2007

I Ain't No Rock Star No More

I think our 4th of July party was a success. It may take months to recover fully, but fun was had by all. We had about 80 people show up at various times throughout the day and the kids had great fun playing on the newest addition to our family:

Yeah, that is a Bonzai Sidewinder, the best water slide EVER!! Now we have that, a moonbounce, a fooseball table and a GoldenTee. Some of you may be thinking that we are trying to be cool, fancy pants parents, but you're wrong. With our fun house of treasures, we can ensure that our kids are always playing, thus freeing up our time to get fucked up and crazy.

After making enough food to feed the Ohio National Guard, I whipped up a 5 gallon batch of Sangria. Then I wrote my name on a cup and drank out of it ALL day. I don't care what I was doing, I kept that cup in one of my hands at all times. By the time most of the stragglers left and it was just a few close friends outside by the fire, I had rinsed out the lovely red cup of courage and refilled it with the Captain and Diet Coke that I had been hording from the crowd. I may have gotten a little paranoid by the end of the evening, but I was certain that "they" just knew where I had hidden my best friend the Captain and I kept checking to make sure he was still secreted away in his hidden cubby. Now I am paying for my day of fun and debauchery. Not with a headache or an upset stomach or shaky hands, but with a body full of gas. Holy shit am I ripping ass left and right. Mr. ADW tried to get a little frisky this morning and I told him that I had to fart instead. Yeah, I am sooo sexy.

By the way, the after party clean-up sucks donkey balls. I think next year, I am going to hire someone to help out so we don't have to do all of the work. And on top of it, I have BBS to thank for the fact that people now expect this party to happen once a year. You know, just a small intimate gathering with 50 - 100 of your closest friends and family. Super. Except for the part where it takes a week to get ready and another week to clean the fuck up afterwards. But at the end of the day, it was totally worth it.

I should have some pic posts coming up if I can figure out how to download from my stupid ass camera. Really. I think I am missing the strands of DNA that allow you to figure out camera downloads and how to hold a video recorder steady. Whatever.

I hope everyone had a great weekend and if we don't connect have a great Independence Day as well.