Teen years? Fuck yeah I was angry!

Angry? Yeah, so you know what? FUCK YEAH I was an angry teen. Who wasn't? I hated Every. Fucking. Thing. I wasn't popular (yeah, shut up!) , I was "prego's" more times than I can account for (considering I didn't have sex in HS), and Oh my God please could the boys like me even just a little?? In the sexy way?? Not just the way that I will play intramural soccer with them???? Please? I wasn't a nerd, I wasn't popular, I was nothing, a floater, except I wasn't invited to parties, cuz I wasn't allowed to go anyway. I grew up with rules. God forbid! AND I was afraid of the consequences. Truly afraid. Would you like to know who I was afraid of? Yeah, no, don't guess. Not my dad. Mother. I thought my Mother was the meanest, cruelest, psycho bitch in the universe. Why did I think she was crazy? Because I wasn't allowed to run Willy-Nilly. I soooooooooooooooooooooooo wanted to be one of the cool kids, but that required parents who didn't give a Fuck. At all. Evah. Yeah, My teen years were rough, for me and mom. I am the Oldest. I think that grants me certain rights for being the cause of gray hair and screaming. I wasn't a good kid. I tried to be, I always thought I was doing the right thing, well almost anyway. (Shut up assholes who know me, don't ruin my story! I can think I was a golden child if I want!) I was friends with criminals, they were small time dammit, and I thought in my teen angsty, dorky, lifetime movie/WE TV kinda way they were just acting out. They just wanted to be loved. To know there were people who cared. And I thought I could fix it. Mom, of course, knew better. And I didn't like it. At All. Ever. Yeah, I spent most of my time grounded. Cuz I was good like that.
I managed to graduate High School, without getting pregnant, and went to college. yeah, I totally managed to fuck that up too. All I got out of college was an M.R.S. degree. Because I suck. And I was to lazy (and hung the-fuck-over/stoned) to actually attend class. Finally, I decided wasting mom's money wasn't getting me anywhere and quit. And I moved home. And mom supported me. And loved me. And even in my pre-teen/college drop out/dumb ass way I could still piss that woman off. But ya know what? I LOVE my mom. We are best friends now. I love the fact that she put rules and regulations in my life and didn't just let me run rampant and do something stupid and ruin my life. And while I say with all certainty, I can't live in the same house as her and I know damn well she can't live in the same house with me, I love my mom.

p.s. Yeah, and fuck off, my sisters WERE perfect. So shut up. I think I was the test baby.



Times Past and Kids Today

Opinion time! My experience with *most* parents today leads me to believe children are ignored. Too many days have I been in stores and seen a parent with their child running wild, or screaming, or begging for attention and the parent, with cell phone glued to the head, ignore them. Or give in to whatever it is they want. Chips, candy, ice cream, that new toy, whatever. What is it with these parents?? When did No cease to be No? I was in the Lowes and there's a little girl crying for her mom, so I helped her find her mom. The mother says to me "She was FINE, I could hear her" and stomps away. I was left with the feeling commonly known as 'What the Fuck?'. As I finish my shopping I can hear this little girl asking her mom "Where'd that nice lady go?". As I round the corner I come face to face with Crazy Mommy glaring at me. "She won't stay with me now because she wants to find you and thank you." This woman was pissed that I stopped to help her child. And that her child had the common courtesy enough to want to Thank me for it.

The other side of that coin is that kids don't get to be kids anymore. We have to protect them from the crazies so they can't run rampant in the neighborhood playing with other kids anymore. There's no more "just be home before dark". Kids are regulated minute by minute. School activities and sports, 37 for each season so kids stay out of trouble and off the streets and guarded by adults at all times. I understand the fear. Living in Philly I hear about kids getting shot in school yards by other kids everyday. Those dirty rotten mutherfuckers who just wanna touch these kids in the no-no spots. For all the things we didn't have when I was growing up sometimes ya gotta wonder, was it better then?



Oh the Myspace Horror!!!

Ok, so apparently, the MySpace freaks LOVE me! Cuz I'm SSSSSooooooooo open minded!
Everyone: Meet David.


Aug 26, 2006 1:57 PM Subject:
Hey Whatsup!!?
Hey whatsup!? I found your profile and you seem very cool and open minded, anyways, i was just wonderin if you wanted to be my friend... this is a private profile. click the link below and add me there.
Thanks... I would love to be your friend!!!

and you should definately check out the number 1 most crazy ebay item in america... seriously make sure you do! I think it's a private auction, so you must have an ebay account to see it!!! click the link below to login, and tell me what you think!



Mutherfuckin post office

Nearly everyday when I get home I have to re-deliver my neighbors mail. Which is ok, not too bad. I don't mind, I even like my neighbors so its a chance to say hi and pet their dog. I even understand that we don't have a set person to deliver our mail, it's a rotational route, so mistakes happen. But, when I don't get my bills, and I miss a car payment because someone else gets my mail,with my personal information, and I incure finance charges and damage to MY credit rating, I get a little irate. Just a wee bit. And let me say this. If I suffer Identity Theft becasue some fucktard signs me up for a credit card and maxes it out, someone might die. Slowly and painfully. Yes, I will go "Postal" to use the proper term. So I sent out a cutsey, nicey-nice complaint letter.
Here it is.

"I have had a problem getting my mail because there is no set carrier for my route. I have to deliver my neighbors mail, and they bring mine over also. I missed a car payment because some one else got my bill and I never recieved it. It's not only my neighbors mail, but the wrong streets, incorrect addresses, incorrect names. I don't enjoy paying late fees and my credit rating being affected by incompitent carriers. I would like a perminant carrier put on my route please and thank you."

When I hit the submit button they said it might take a few days to get back to me. I'll keep you updated.

**The update**

The "filed" the complaint. Someone will contact me on thier next business day.

Happy Happy, Joy Joy.


Opiates and entertainment..

We're down the pub last night and one of our friends, The Professor, says "what's that smell?" Immediately my brain screams *OHMYGOD I SMELL! YOU JUST WASHED THE DOG AND CAME OUT TO THE BAR AND DID YOU REMEMBER TO USE DEODORANT THIS MORNING?????? CRAWL UNDER THE BAR!!! HIDE!* But I try to be nonchalant about it, "dog shampoo??" I ask.
"no...." Says The Professor with a discerning look upon his rectangular head
"tooth paste? I did just brush my teeth...."
"no.... maybe its a combination of the two. It smells like Opium."

Ok, hold the fuck up. My dog shampoo and toothpaste makes me smell like a hardcore drug addict from the 1850's who is chasing the dragon?? G.R.E.A.T. And, not to pass up this opportunity, but whyyyyy does The Professor know what opium smells like????

I probably should have gone home then. But, lil'miss-smarty-pants me stayed. I got to hear The Professor give a moving lecture on how children "Can't even be children anymore because they are over scheduled". Stimulating I know. I watched a couple of Abercrombie and Fitch brothers play plastic darts and nearly got impaled as they ricocheted around the room. And that was about it. My life is soooo interesting.



Undies Encore

For the last two wendsdays I've gotten caught by my In-Laws walking around my house in my undies. Ya know, cuz just once wasn't enough. So, last night, it seemed a first rate idea to keep my pants on. And maybe even do the dishes in the sink so they don't think I'm a complete and utter pig who can't keep a house clean. Ya, you've probably guessed it by now. They never showed. Because I kept my cloths on. I must be right about the radar. Or video cameras. Something! Because, I swear, NO ONE has timing like that on accident!

Or maybe sweet baby Jebus just hates me......



Sooo...Uuuhhhhmmm... I think I'm in trouble.

Yeah, I think I screwed up........ again. Capt. Ass-Kicker needs to get his passport and I'm thinkin' I might have lost his birth certificate. Don't ask because I don't know how I did it. I put it in the lock box with mine 3 years ago after our trip to cancun and 2 years ago when I got mine out to get my passport his was there. And mine still is...... I went to get his out this morning and guess the fuck what? I can't find it. Maybe it's because it was before 7:30 in the morning, or the fact I drank retarded amounts of beer last night, but I just didn't see it anywhere. Ok, panic now starts to seep into my brain. I have been screaming at him to get this done for a month now, and now it's going to be my fault it's not done because I "can't hold on to a simple piece of fucking paper". I left him a note this morning leaving him a list of crap to do today with a nice little P.S. 'you can't get your passport today until I find your birth certificate', with no mention of it might just be/maybe/possibly/could be lost. Thank GOD he didn't draw that conclusion until I have had some more time to look for it or super secretly order a duplicate online.

Yeah guys, I am totally getting my ass whupped.



HA! I freakin win!

Nahhh na nah na nahhhhh na! The great God's of HTML have let me win, just this once and I figured out how to move my stupid add column back where it belongs. Now if I could just figure out how to make a right side margin, and those cutesy little boxes to put pics and lists and shit in I'd be good. But for now, I'm not.



Ahhh ha!!! dude, I fuckin rock this shiznit yo!

So, not only did Capt. Ass-kicker get his new job, and my mom get her new job I totally got an F'in raise! Can we all say 'hell to the yeahhhhh' please and thank you very fuckin' much. I work in the crappiest industry ever, nooooooo, not coal mining, car parts. Yeah, I am totally that girl. Not only am I the only girl, I do most of the work.......cuz' I'm the girl. Why is it women have to work twice as hard as every one else???? Fuckers...... With Peni.... I spend my days fending off slimy little grease monkeys with hard-ons whilst trying desperately to do my JOB. It's amazing I get anything done between the guys saying things like "You're married? He's probly cheating on you." and "OOOoooohhhhwwwww.... I love the sound of that voice in the morning. I'll give you a '67 Vette if you leave your husband". Most of these guys have never even seen me! I could be 900lbs and have a unibrow and they still hit on me. All I have to say is what the fuckin' fuck???? My most recent slimy-ness is a guy who asked if Capt. Ass-Kicker and I "swing" and do we want to go out some time? "Ya know, we could swap......" Ok, hang on, I gotta go barf. MMmmmm Hhhhmmm... My job rocks! But I got a raise. Thank God, if I don't make more money soon I might have to sell Ovum to pay the heat bill this winter. It's kinda like selling kids right? I'm horrible, I know. Anyway, the point of this (Yeah, I have those occasionally) is lets all party it up, I got a raise!!! Goooooo me!

And just to let everyone know, something is wrong with my stupid fucking HTML for my adds, it sayyyyyys align left, but it is aligning right. I don't know why. and the other thing on the bottom of my page lost its http:// somewhere. Damn.......



Ahhh... weekends....

Just so everyone knows, there has been an update on Mr. Shoe-less. Apparently, he wasn't running a scam, he was just stupid. He tried to insert his card in the receipt slot instead of the slidey thing-a-majig. So yes. The machine ate his card. Because he was Stupid. And drunk.

Yeah, I know. I have been lackadaisical about posting. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't have any funny shit to tell you. Because I don't do anything. Let me tell you what I did this weekend. Friday after work I went shopping. No, not the fun kind. Grocery shopping. The bane of my existence. Never in all my life have I been enclosed in a building with a group of ruder people! First, to Aldi's. Because I'm cheap. There must have been 900 people in this building and one cashier. Yeah, I left my cart and walked out, forfeiting my quarter.
Next stop Target. Again, because I'm cheap. It's like a slalom course of people and children in there. Then when you get to the register you have to deal with the cashiers chatting with each other, talking on the phone, chatting with the managers and forgetting all about the customer who is now simmering in a red boiling vat of hatred and rage. Haven't you people ever heard of MULTITASKING!! And to make it worse my particular cashier had OCD. Mt total was $70.85, I gave him $75. Three twenties a ten and a five. He counted it THREE TIMES, before putting it in the register and getting my change. Four dollars and fifteen cents. Again, counting it THREE TIMES, dollars three times, change three times. I don't know what screwed him up so much, maybe saying "Sebentyeightyfiv" got him thinking $78, I don't know. What I do know is that by the time I got out of there I wanted to remove his heart with a dull wooden spoon.
Then on to two grocery stores where people milled about aimlessly parking their carts at odd angles and bickering over sale prices. One would think the old people with nothing better to do could go shopping during the middle of the week, but I MUST be wrong. All the good shopping only happens at 6:30 every other Friday night. By now, you can imagine, a beer is in order.
Saturday I weed wacked for what seemed like hours, fought the good fight and chopped back my trumpet vines (maniacal fuckers), cleaned the cat litter pan, painted the spare bedroom ceiling, twice, vacuumed and fell asleep on the couch.
And today my big plan was to do the dishes, make some cookies, blog, go to Barnes and Noble and maybe go swimming at my inlaws. Underwear properly covered. Man, am I living it up huh?



Uuuuhhmm, yeah......

My husband, hence forth known as Capt. Ass-Kicker, got a new job yesterday. Everyone say YAY. To celebrate we went down to our local pub with a couple friends. What you have to understand about 'our' bar is its just that. A bar. Not a dance club. The music's never so loud you can't talk, the foods good old fashioned bar food, and it's a workers bar. Dirty painters, tree guys, and mechanics frequent this fine establishment. And its fun. Usually.
Last night as we walked in there were the usual guys. With one exception. This guy. He's not a regular. No big deal right? Suuuuurrrreee....... We take our stools at the bar and hang out for about 20 minutes. I'm a people watcher so I notice Mr. Mullet go to the ATM. With no shoes on. That folks is class. I giggled a bit and continued to watch. Dude looks over the ATM and it's not an old fashioned take your card and give it back when your done' kind, it's the new-fangled slider kind. He slides his card in and pockets it, continuing to push buttons the whole time. He turns back, swaggers back to his barstool where his equally shoeless girlfriend waits with there 2 cheese steaks, plastic container of gaspatcho (which she has been munching on) and 3 six packs of Corona. He lights a smoke, and drunkenly waives our nice little blond bartender over. Now I am straiiiiining to hear the conversation.

"Hey. Your Machine ate my card. Won't give me any cash, lady" Mr. Shoeless says...

"Uuuhhhmm... OK. lets go have a look." Ms. Little blond bartender.....

*Swaggering occurs*

*Looking over the machine* "There's no way this machine could have eaten your card" Ms. Little blond bartender

Naturally, there's the table of young cocky buggers at a table, and as he passes between them and us I hear "Nice shirt dude..."


He turns, ready for a fight, and they start chatting him up. No biggy, just some makin' fun of the drunk guy right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. Enter the little girlfriend. Wow. Cute, but stupid. They are standing at the table and he starts man handling her, twisting her arms behind her back and I hear her utter the phrase

"Yeah, he likes to keep me barefoot, hee hee hee!"

Ok, well, if she's happy..... So he continues to manhandle her and all the sudden I have the sharp end of an elbow penetrating my spinal column. Repeat performance, and again. Yeah, by now I am not happy. ( I.E. I turn and say "WHAT THE FUCK???) Finally Ms. Shoeless bounces out the door, Mr. Shoeless argues with Ms. Little blond bartender, who by now has figured out it was a scam, and he exits the bar, sans beer and food yelling all the way

"Don't worry sweetie, You ain't gonna get beat for this...."

So, Mr. and Ms. Shoeless have drank for a hour and had gaspatcho for free... Never to be heard from again.

The end

Just so everyone knows, my In-laws caught me in my undies again tonight. Yeah, it rocks.



My uncle, Walker, Texas Ranger

Hi everyone, meet my Uncle. Also known as Walker, Texas Ranger. And his wife Mary. My uncle has always looked a bit like Chuck Norris. Of whom, you should always fear. When I was a kid I idolized Chuck. So, yeah, I totally rocked the idea that I was related to a Chuck Norris Look-a-like. He might just kick your ass dude. He was the toughest guy I knew while I was growing up, mostly due to, uuumm... Duh.... Chuck Norris. So, without further ado...

Guns don't kill people.

Chuck Norris kills People.

There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of animals Chuck Norris allows to live.

Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

The chief export of Chuck Norris is Pain.

There is no chin under Chuck Norris' Beard. There is only another fist.

Chuck Norris has two speeds. Walk, and Kill.

The leading causes of death in the United States are: 1. Heart Disease 2. Chuck Norris 3. Cancer.

Chuck Norris drives an ice cream truck covered in human skulls

Chuck Norris is my Homeboy

Chuck Norris doesn't go hunting.... CHUCK NORRIS GOES KILLING



Hittin' people with stuff? Hell Yeah!

Once upon a time, many many years ago when I was a child, I leaned toward hitting people with stuff. Yep. I was a hitter. And not even because I meant to. I don't even get to have that. I was, for a lack of a better word, clumsy. Not so much that I'd fall down a lot, OOooohhhh no. 'Cuz I'd do stupid shit. Yep, Here's my sign. My bestest friend growing up was the boy next door.

We were the same age, and had more fun than any child should ever have. But...... there were consequences. Nearly every summer he hit me in the face with a wiffle ball bat and I'd pass out. Yeah, I know, I was a fainter. Now, he didn't mean to do it. We were kids playing hard. Wiffle ball, hide and go seek, "Bloody Murder" (an evening version of hide-and-go-seek) , lets throw rocks at each other. What can I say? We were kids growing up in a town with nothing to do, we found our own fun. So anyway, back to my tail of woe.
We were battling. I had a metal snow shovel circa 1909 and he had a dirt shovel. For some ungodly reason we thought it a phenomenal idea to use them as swords.... (can you see where I'm going here?). Slash..... BANG.......... clang.... the fight was on..... Suddenly he missed a blocking maneuver I expected him to make. *SMACK* The sickly wet sound of a flat aluminum shovel meeting the side of a 10 year old boys face.... *fade to black*
I think I stood there SCREAMING until someone came to see what was wrong. I knocked that mutha out, yo. I wasn't in trouble, although I was sure I was, and he recovered, albeit bruised. And we continued on with our games of hurting each other, even when we didn't mean too.
And this trend followed me through my life. Yeah, I was totally a bully. I beat up anyone. I intimidated like it was my job. I wasn't well liked. I spent my childhood with a bullies nickname, (and I Reveled in it), my pre-teen years kickin poor boys in the balls for irritating me ( and I had deadly aim), and my teen years crying 'cuz no one liiiiiikkeeeeeed me..... *sniff sniff* After I got my first apartments I smacked a possum with a shovel, he was in my trash. And my coup de grace, I hit a Skunk with a trowel. What can I say, I had been drinking, it was dark and all I could see was the white stripe poking out of my trash bag. My god, I smelled skunk for DAYS even though I didn't get sprayed. *The mist sticks to the hairs in your nose and somehow permeates your brain.* At the local bar some drunkard tried to take out my husband and I hit him with my Genesse bottle. Yeah, lets all say it together, I have class.....



I have a distinct hate for this foreign language called HTML...

So, I can't figure out how to post a link in my sidebar to my flickr crap. I like the way Dooce has hers set up, but I'm more than certain she has a far vaster knowledge of HTML than poor old me. If anyone knows how to do that I'd be particularly grateful. You may even save me from screaming incessantly and bashing my very own pink head through the monitor.



So I dyed my hair.....

I have very very dark brown hair and have recently taken to bleaching just the front section. My hubby thought that was wierd, and even went so far as to tell me "It make you look old hunni". Great. Thanks. Well, I decided to let my inner punk rock kid come out and dyed the bleached section bright freakin pink, with blue tips last night. (He now thinks I'm having a mid-twenties crisis.)

Of course I'm walking around my house in an old T-shirt, my undies, and foil on my head when who makes a surprise visit? That's right folks! The In-Laws! They seem to have an inner radar, and uncanny ability to show up at the most in-opportune time. Seems like I get home from work and take off my pants, hop in the shower, or have sex with my husband and a little bell rings in their heads... *maybe we should go see the kids* Sometimes I swear they have our house set up on streaming video just so they know when to come over. Or do all parents have this innate ability? If my parents lived within visiting distance I'm sure they would be Ninja visitors too. Walk by the door into the bathroom to pinch a loaf when no one is home, and as you exit the lavatory with watering eyes and a stench that seems to be melting the porcelain and peeling the wallpaper there stands *insert family member here* smiling! "HI HONEY! LETS VISIT! " Does everyone have this happen to them?



Home sweet home............

Well, lets talk about home. Home is where the heart is right? Even if it's EBF, and some of the people don't have all their teeth?

Well, even though all I ever wanted was to GET OUT of that little town, I sometimes find myself wishing I was closer to home.

There are no oportunities, business or otherwise, left there. It's a town going the way of the Wild West I supose. You've seen Deliverance right? It's kinda like that. So I had to leave, they Voted me out of the clan because I have to many teeth. And my brother isn't my father, that kind of stuff. You ain't one of them if you're family tree branches ya know? Gooble Gobble! One of Us, One of US!

But there's a peace there (even amongst the back-stabbing story tellers) that you just don't get in a city. A sense of community, there really is a neighborhood, not just The Hood, or these suburbs where you could be bleeding next to there driveway and as long as it's not on "Their Lawn" they won't call and have you arrested for trespassing.

Of course, the more I think about it the more I realize it's not the place I miss so much as it's my wacky-assed family. No matter how goofy your family is, or mine for that matter, you still love em. You miss sitting around the kitchen table, (bonfire, livingroom, or mass sacrifice, ya know, wherever your family congregates) and just being there. So, anyway, after all the Squishy shit, just remember, love your family, see them as much as you can, and never take them for granted. Mwah!



Goooiinn' to the Chaple annnnd we're gonna get Married...

I don't know about the rest of you bloggers and lurkers out there but I think being married is easy-peasy. Oh, we fight, and yell, and cry (and I sometimes like to throw things) but at the end of the day, no matter how much we dislike eachother, we still love eachother. I admit sometimes its not easy, but it's worth it. I'm 27 and my hubby is 29 and we've been married for 5 years. Sometimes I wonder about the rest of the people our age though, it seems like they want everything without having to work for it. And being married is a full time job. No longer is about you and what you want, and if your significant other doesn't fit in to your plan of the moment "oh well" move on and find someone who does. Once you're married it doesn't work like that anymore, or it's not suposed to. Now you need to consider them, and what they want and need and how they'll feel about what you're doing and not doing. Sounds like a lot of work huh? It Is. But ya know what? It's good work. At the end of the day it makes you feel good, and warm, and loved and happy. And, for me, there's no better feeling in the world than that.


Good Jumpin Fu** it's hot

Being that we're suposed to reach a heat index of 105 today and 112 yesterday I broke down and put the window AC unit in for my dog and cat monday night. It's not fair to them that hey roast all day in the house while I sit in my freezing cold office. Of course the window unit I have for the living room was made approximately when Jesus was born and made of cast iron and alien metals designed to weigh more than the earth. I managed to haul this monstrosity up the basement steps with out killing myself or causing major bodily harm by falling down the stairs and got it in the window after a 20 minute struggle to get it situated. I turned it on and low and behold I believe there are arctic mice in there running in a wheel and farting out tiny blasts of slightly chilled air, but it's better than nothing. At this point I am covered in sweat that feels like an elephant sneezed on me, oh JOY. I grabbed the second one from the basement, only slightly smaller and newer, jesus might have been 5 or so, and got that one in the window without too many problems. After about an hour it was much cooler, or at least the moisture was out of the air, but the smell! It's like someone used it as an ashtray and to culture mold and mildew for fun and entertainment. So tonight I get to go home and take these filters made of horse hair and cow manure out and see if I can clean them or maybe get replacements sometime before the end of the world. I'll try and post some pics tonight so you can watch the project and maybe, if your lucky, I might just get electrocuted. Whhoooo hooooo! It's a party up in here!



hahahahah! I've jumped ship!

Well, kiddies, I was previousley a MSN blogger and I have been so freakin irritated with there crap I jumped ship. I've been reading a ton of blogs on this site so I figured 'What the hell?" it can't be any worse here than MSN, also know as the Must Screwwithyourblog Network. I'll be stealing some crap from my other blog and reposting it here so you have some history on me, and the secret life I lead, and I'll start being a real blogger tomarow!


And now I can't get into my MSN account to get any of my other blogs, so no more for tonight. I think I'm going to go sit on my couch and try not to melt in this heat.

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