Everybody Can Just Bite My Ass

In Case You Were Wondering.....

2007-11-24T20:14:00.000-05:00

Being a woman does not make me less than a man.

I will not submit to you. I don't care if you are a woman or a man.

I will not jump if you want something to drink or eat or anything else. I will step quickly and with motivation if you need toilet paper...simply because you not having any grosses me out though you probably deserve to go without it.

I am not your bitch. I am not your slave. I am not your super woman....though I do have the power to cuss a blue streak and piss off everyone in my immediate vicinity - which I have displayed on many occasions.

I will not use the excuse "I can't because I'm a girl."...and if I hear you trying to teach that crap to my daughter again, I will forget that you are my husbands mother and let you have it....we've spoken about this before. I will not "speak" to you about it again.

I don't want to hear you snickering while I'm splitting wood. Granted, I probably look ridiculous doing it, but that's not what you're snickering about. You're snickering because you think it's funny that I'M splitting splitting wood....but I'd bet my bottom dollar that you'd have something to say if I didn't.

Do not make me feel like the bad guy when my children need to be disciplined.

Do not make snide remarks when I put my dishes in the dishwasher instead of washing them by hand.

Do not give my side long glances when I hang my clothes up or put them in the dryer. If I do it one way, you think it should be done another.

Don't play the poor suffering woman with me. You're a manipulative old bat that's tough as shoe leather.

To be clear...there's basically one thing you're allowed to do when you come to my house....

LEAVE.

Go 'Head. Make My Day

2007-10-09T12:39:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm employed. *puts down dirty rag*

I won't start for a couple of weeks. New boss guy has to do a back ground check and all that jazz before I can start. I'm not really worried about that triple homicide I committed showing up. I don't think they have my DNA on file anywhere in the criminal system. *metallic clicking in the back ground*

So in the mean time, I still here at the home front, making sure the grass grows and the cats fart. *opens small cardboard box*

The house is perfectly clean...in comparison to what N. O. looked like after Katrina anyway *sharp metallic clicking* and the neighbors are ready for me to go back to work. It seems to me, that I'm the only one around here that is a fan of 80's music and bright neon colors in my wardrobe. Never mind that I suffer from hearing loss blasting my music so loud that the neighbors can hear, *SHARP metallic click* and my eyesight will never be the same.

It's not that I give a crap what they think of me really *puts chamber in the round of gun* especially since the bastards have driven all the moles the the tri-county area into my yard and I'm out for a little revenge. *poses in mirror trying to look cool and cop like*

I've tried everything to get rid of the little fuckers....I mean, if the dog can't dig 'em up, what am I supposed to do? (the moles I mean, not the neighbors) *ties on Rambo bandanna and attempts lopsided grimace in mirror....dog barks*

The new job is the same as the old one, just a different company. There aren't that many places out there that want someone who can only work during the day and no weekends. (the fuckers) So here I am, mole hunting, and waiting to start work on a job I had hoped I was done with. I'm so fucking excited I can't stand anyone. *shoos cat out of room*

Maybe I'll just start job blogging. *ties socks together to make holster* There are some freaks out there, that's for sure.

Anyway, I'm off to my own little hell in the front yard...and the back yard, and the side yards.

BLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

shit, I think I just shot the dog.

Large Pieces of Crack Anyone?...Anyone?

2007-09-29T17:15:00.000-04:00

Just checking in with all you boys and girls. Hope you're doing well and all that shit.

I'm still jobless and so damn broke I couldn't get financing for a candy bar.

On the up side...you lovely people still take the time to comment on my blog and send me email....which is good...because I really hate mopping the floor....and reading comments is the perfect excuse not to do that. Thanks Yall!

Like today for instance.....I went to check my email and I had a couple new ones in there. One was from a blogging buddy and another one was from Annemarie Van Dijk. Who's that? you ask? My answer...fuck if I know. Basically, the bitch spammed my blog email address...and it totally pissed me off. I don't give out my blog email address to anyone for any reason, so the bitch had to get the shit off of here.

The email went like this.....

SEE MESSAGE FOR DETAILSREFERENCE NUMBER: NLSUK/9408/756/2007BATCH NUMBER: NL2/02/-052AWARD NOTICE STAATLOTERIJ NL.RESULTS FOR CATEGORY ADear Winner,We are happy to inform you that your email address came up in the first dip.Invariable,means that you have emerged a winner under the First Category of our promotion.Winners were picked by computerized system, drawn from company and individual e-mail addresses worldwide.The draws is officially announced today 27th of Sep., 2007.You have therefore been awarded a lump sum pay out of 500,000(Five hundred thousand Euros), which is the winning payout for Category A winners.NOTE: For easy reference and identification,find below your Reference and Batch numbers. Remember to quote these numbers in your correspondence to our claim Department.REFERENCE NUMBER: NLSUK/9408/756/2007 BATCH NUMBER: NL2/02/-052Please contact staatslotreji claim department immediately for due processing and remittance of your prize money to a designated account of your choice with the following details:(1) NAME.(2) CONTACT ADDRESS.(3) TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBERS.(4) TICKET AND PRIZE NUMBERS.(5) NOTIFICATION DATE.***********************************************************************

********Contact Person:Dr Michael AvansContact Email :staatlotcustom@aim.comContact Tel :0031-634238365******************************************************

*************************Sincerely Yours,Mrs Annemarie Van DijkPROMOTION CORDINATORN.B: Any breach of confidentiality on the part of the winners will result to disqualification. Contact your claim department immediately.

....and because she won me over with her charm and charisma, I decided to send her an email address thanking her for this "Winning" opportunity. It went something (or rather exactly) like this.....

Dear Mrs Van DICK,

Why don't you shove this phony ass contest up your shriveled and wart encrusted ass.

I don't see your dumb ass sending me a check now do I?

Do I have a sign on my head that says "Gullible little shit - please fuck with me" on my head?

I'll tell you what. I've got $50,000 sitting in a bank in Nigeria and I'm having trouble getting the funds here to the US. Why don't you give me the name of your bank, routing number and account number so I can deposit it in your account so I won't have any problems with those pesky people in the US government? I'll give you a 10 percent fee and everything....right after everything clears.

I'll also need your SSN, DOB along with your residential address and home phone number...and I'll also need your mothers maiden name ...so I can laugh at you.

Please eat a piece of my shit and catch AIDS.

Have a nice day.

Now the more level headed of you are asking yourselves "and what purpose does this serve? What greater good has she accomplished by being so vulgar, nasty, waspish and hateful?"

My answer to you is this....

Grow a pair of balls and a sense of humor. This shit is funny and it made me feel better. Now I want you to imagine me flinging poo at you....because that makes me feel better too.

I Aint Dead Yet

2007-09-08T20:25:00.000-04:00

Hi Folks

Sorry to deprive you of my snark recently but I've been on a hunt...job hunt that is...and that's been pretty hard to do considering I'm sick and I've lost my voice. I mean, how am I suposed to interview if I can't speak? It wouldn't exactly make a good first impression for me to whisper and croak intermitantly...unless you're a freak and you're into that sort of thing....and then God only knows what in the hell I'd be hired to do. BLECK. Gives me the hebbie jebbies just to think about it.

I'm tired of insurance. I'm tired of sales. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'll let you know what I'm doing when I figure it out.

I'll be checking in on all you weird people (and the not so weird people) from time to time.

I'm going to post this draft that's been in here since March since I don't feel like writing anything new.

__________________________________________________________

Okay people. Lets talk personal hygeine.

It's painfully and DISGUSTINGLY obvious that some of us don't know when to get a pedicure or when it's okay to wear sandals.

We just had couple of days where the weather was nice and warm and everybody broke out capris, shorts, and sandals....they did NOT however, GROOM themselves and that's so damn nasty it hurts....it hurts my eyes because I have to look at scary feet, and it could have hurt the back of my legs because of nasty people in crap-tack-ular open toed sandals didn't cut their toe nails and that's just WRONG. I cut my dog's nails for Pete's sake. Why don't you cut your nails people? I was thinking of buying some shin guards and putting them on backwards to protect my legs for your nasty, black toenails - and I don't mean they're black because that's the color of the nail polish. They are blaringly SANS nail polish, and normally that would be okay if you cleaned yourself BUT, if you've got BLACK toenails that hang off the end of the sandals - you aren't fooling anyone - you don't wash - and we know it. (I'm guessing all that black under your tonails is asphalt from where you've been scratching the road...but I could be wrong)

So for the sake of keeping the people around you from throwing up, I've listed some handy-dandy pointers for you.

1. Buy nail clippers. There are a couple of different types, please ask for help if you get confused.

2. Buy a pumice stone...or if it's something you're not comfortable using - I'd like to recommend a cheese grater and sand paper.

3. Buy Lotion - please GOD! buy some lotion. Your feet need it. No really. They NEED it. You see all that cracked dry skin on your heels? Yeeeesssssss, of course you do. You couldn't possibly miss it. That's where the application of lotion comes in and does it's magic.

Please feel free to print them out, write them down and email them to your friends and relatives who may need help or reminding. These guidlines can easily be laminated and taped to the TV - which is where those freaks are sitting instead of taking a shower.

What Goes Around Comes Around

2007-08-29T10:49:00.000-04:00

I have so many,many nicknames for my short people that it's hard to imagine that they know their own names.

For my daughter there's - Blond Child, Little Bear, Itsy Bitsy, Shrimp, Sweets, Angel Bear, Lovely, Crack Smoker, and I'm sure a couple more that I'm forgetting.

...it's the same for my son

His various nicknames are - Super Baby, Super Kid, Hero, Super Hero, Midget, Little Dude, Evil Baby, Charles the Second, Crack Baby, and again, there's probably a few more I'm forgetting....but let me get on with the story.

This past weekend, Connor decided that he was extra, EXTRA, EXTRA, bored and wanted to play in my little sewing basket....which is really a plastic bag from Walmart....and I gently took the BAG OF DEATH away from him that was filled with EYESIGHT DAMAGING NEEDLES and RESPIRATORY INTERRUPTING, BUT OH SO COLORFUL STRING and told him "I don't think so Crack Baby. You don't get to play with this. No touching please."

and because he's my son, he responded with

"Mine! Crack Mommy!"

Oh yeah, I want a thousand more just like him.

Love Thy Boobies

2007-08-28T23:30:00.000-04:00

I know that this is the second time in a month I have a link for you to click on for some do-gooder reason ....and it's probably left you so shocked that you're copiously drooling from all orifices...but hey, I don't have to clean it up...so here goes.

As some of you may or may not know, a mastectomy is when you go in for surgery and have either one or both of your boobies loped off.

I'm not a big fan of boobie lopping myself....but just as long as the removed bits aren't used in catapults and cannons, I'm okay with it. I secretly think that some mastectomies are done simply because the Dr is either a) jealous or b) a man or c) a jealous man, and wants to feel your boobies in the privacy of his own home.....but I digress.

Sometimes boobie loping is necessary due to cancer or the permanent impression of your ex-husband's hand print, and then it's a real big help.

As I'm sure you can all imagine, it hurts like the dickens when this happens and the insurance companies are wanting to make it an out patient surgery (all the quicker the Dr can go home and feel your boobie) while you still have all sorts of medical paraphernalia sticking out of your chest.....don't let that happen.....make the fucking Dr wait at least TWO days before he can go home and fondle you without your knowing.

Click here and sign the petition. They only need your name and zip code.

(I have so much tact and class that it's unreal.)

Yes, I AM A Smart Ass

2007-08-25T21:40:00.000-04:00

I drove down to Richmond yesterday to pick-up my Victim (aka Charles). Seems he had a little accident in his work vehicle. OOPS.

...and because I love him soooooo very, very much......and because I'm a cheeky broad....I had to fuck with him a little bit.

"So, you had a little accident in your van huh."

"Yep."

"What did your boss say?"

"He said 'Shit happens.'"

"They gonna clean it up for you?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't be any problem really. There wasn't that much damage."

"Damage? You caused damage?"

He looked at me like I had a wart on my nose. "Damage normally happens when you have an accident."

"That's normal for you is it?"

"That's normal for anybody."

"Well, I'd have to say that when someone has an accident in their vehicle, they don't tell their boss. "

"Only if they're stupid they don't."

"Sweetheart, I don't know how close you and your boss are....but a normal person doesn't tell ANYONE when they have an accident in their vehicle...but you may want to get checked out by a Dr.."

"I did go to the Dr. They gave me a urinalysis and a breathalyzer and I blew a 0.00. The urinalysis results should be back next week sometime."

"Did they check you for a urinary tract infection?"

"Why in the hell would they do that?"

"Because if you pissed in the van, then you definitely have a problem. I mean, it's okay if you want people to think you were in a wreck or something instead of having some sort of bladder control problem. There's a lot less humiliation in having a wreck than having "an accident", especially at your age."

I'm telling you, he has got to love me to have been around me this long.

Clickity Click Click

2007-08-23T10:21:00.000-04:00

Hello bitches.

Click here and then click on the purple box where it says "Click Here to Give - It's FREE" at the top of the page to help provide food for rescued animals.

What the hell are you doing?

Get to clickin'.

--------------------------------------------------------------

I was airing out the house last weekend in the cool weather. All the windows in the house were open and we could hear all the outside sounds riding on the breezes.

Connor was content with playing with his trucks on the floor until we took another trip outside to hang up clothes and Lauren was outside riding her bike and torturing the dog.

I watched Little Dude squatting there on the floor repeatidly wrecking his trucks and making little kid sound effects and it was so damn cute, and a big bubble of love swelled inside my heart, creeping up my throat.

He looked up and caught my eye, smiled and said "Bootie"

I was taken aback. "BOOTIE?" I said.

"Yeah" he said nodding "Bootie."

"Where did you hear that word?"

He cocked his head at me and gave me the baby equivalent look of "you smoke crack"

"Bootie Mommy"

"WHAT? Are you saying that Mommy has BOOTIE??!!!"

"No, Mommy no got Bootie."

At this point I was speechless. What the hell was I going to do? Argue with a 2 year old?....AGAIN?

Connor saw my expression and saw something wasn't clicking.

"Feet Feet, Mommy. Bootie"

"Uh?"

Connor stood up, stomped his foot and yelled "BOOTIE GO FEET-FEET MOMMY!"

I didn't get it. My kid was talking about my feet and my bootie. What in the hell was going on?

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" I finally caught on.

The birdie says tweet tweet.

Top 10 Reasons I Hate Spiders

2007-08-21T13:35:00.000-04:00

1. - They have to many legs.

2. - They have to many eyes.

3. - They seek, anticipate, and salivate at the thought of bugs.

4. - They're sneaky.

5. - They live in my house, but don't contribute towards rent.

6. - They're ugly.

7. - I'm convinced that up close, really, really close, they stink. (I haven't tried sniffing one, if you do, let me know how it turns out.)

8. - They bite

9. - They're poisonous.

10. - They suck....literally.

There's Something Wrong In The Cosmos

2007-08-17T10:06:00.000-04:00

I was over at Not A Granny's a few days ago, just reading thru some of her posts. I was a first time visitor and I was trying to get a feel for her blog (a feel FOR not OF her blog smart asses). I saw she had one of those little test thingys.

This one was "What animal were you in a past life". She was a wolf. "Cool" I thought. Let me go check this out...

.....and this is what the thing came back with after putting in my birthday.

You Were a Spider

You tend to be the master weaver of fate - both for yourself and those you know.
A creative force, you tend to work from divine inspiration.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

What I want to know is this....

What kind of fucking shit for brains decided to make me a spider hummm? I hate spiders. I hate them with a PASSION. As a matter of fact, I think jihad against spiders is do-able. (If you know of one that is on going, please let me know where I can sign up)

I was looking for something like "You were a tazmanian devil - feared by all, envied by many"...and I get some spider bullshit.

Don't give me that Karma shit.....

I want answers damn it! ANSWERS!

HI HO CHARLIE!!! AAAWWWAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!

2007-08-08T16:36:00.000-04:00

Years ago Charles, Lauren and I flew to Montana from Germany to visit my mother.....about 7 or 8 years ago I think it was.

I loved Montana. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous...

...anyway, mom took us to an outdoors store. You know what I'm talking about...good store for hunting, fishing, camping...I don't remember the name.....and as we were walking around and just having a general "look-see" Lauren, in all her cute adorableness saw a stuffed horse and fell in love with it.

I refused to pay for it...if I remember correctly, that stuffed horse was 20-30 bucks.....and I love my short people and everything, but there was no way I was going to pay that kind of money for a stuffed animal.....so grandma and granddaddy did (because they smoke crack).

On the way home, Lauren asked what she should name her stuffed horse. I think I offered up the name of "Fred" or something along those line. Grandma offered the name "Charlie".... I'll never forget the mischievous twinkle in her eye, and the grin on her face when she was doing it. I immediately protested, but it was to late...Lauren was taken with her Grandma, so Grandma got to name him....and Charlie Horse became her bedtime buddy, her playmate, her comfort.

Fast forward to Spring '07. I get a phone call from school....Lauren has had her first experience with a real Charlie Horse and claims that she can't walk....I even had to put her in the school wheelchair to get her out to the car.

She's fine by the time we get home, a bit sore, but okay.

"Here, my lovely little cripple. Eat a banana. It'll help."

"A banana?"

"It's good for you. Hush and eat, unless you want another Charlie Horse."

Lauren sits carefully on the edge of the couch and looks at Connor's toy box. Her stuffed Charlie Horse is languishing on top. I see her looking at it and I start cracking up. It's gonna hit her any second now.

She chews slowly, I can see the wheels turning behind her little eyeballs. She cuts her eyes at me...

"WHO NAMED HIM?!!!" she exclaimed hotly

"Your Grandma named him. It wasn't me. You can't blame this one on me." I threw up my hands and pressed myself back into the chair cushion.

"Why didn't you say something?

"I did!!! But you were two and you agreed that his name should be Charlie. No amount of talking I did made any difference."

She gave me such an accusatory look, it was so venomous.....and then she looked back at her Charlie Horse and didn't say another word about it.

Later that night, when she thought I was absorbed in cleaning the kitchen, my back turned to her...she snuck him back into her room. I heard her softly say.

"It's okay Charlie Horse. I still love you even if you are named after a cramp."

It almost killed me to wait until she was down the hall to start laughing....

7 years later, she had finally gotten the joke.

I'm Feeling Good

2007-07-28T20:29:00.000-04:00

I can cook.

Now I realize that I may be getting way ahead of myself here, especially in light of my online confession here...but I think the ol' brain has finally assimilated some information on how not to burn food.

I've been on a really good..uh...good food cooking streak for a while now, and that just doesn't happen. I usually pump out something palatable ...oh....I'd say...about one dish (dish people, not meal)every 2 weeks or so.....but I am really topping myself here lately (not that I'm ready to go onto Hell's Kitchen or anything).

Last night I made the yummiest chicken ever. It wasn't dried up like old cardboard like it usually is....it was tender and juicy and it wasn't raw in the middle or burnt on the outside....the juices fairly burst from the chicken when we cut it. The mashed potatoes were perfection, the green beans were GREEN and had not withered in the pot from lack of stirring. The cucumbers were sliced in uniform pieces with no gouges on the sides and the sweet tea was just right.....and to think, I didn't even have to lock the children up in their rooms or duct tape them to the floor so I could accomplish this.

I also made a home made blackberry pie last night...my first pie ever....and it tastes wonderful....and I don't even like blackberries! I will however admit to calling my mother in law at least 5 different times to assist me. I can say whatever else about the woman...but she can cook like no body's business.

The night before last, I made the most tender and mouth watering cubed steak that God could think to grace the earth with. The rice wasn't crunchy, the broccoli was just right and I served that with fresh sliced tomatoes and onions. I damn near had an orgasm half way thru dinner.(and no, that didn't upset the hubby, he was happy....said it just meant he wouldn't have to work as hard later)

The ultimate test was this evening though.

I went to the store and got a lemon cake and frosting, and decided that's what I would have for my birthday. I went home, started mixing and suddenly realized that I didn't have any oil for the recipe...in a daring and clever move...I decided to substitute 2 egg whites for 1/3 cup of oil....and that was when it struck me like a bolt of lightening....it was time to confront my one true nemesis...the culinary creation of evil!!!!!!!...the bundt cake.

Laugh if you must. I have failed so miserably at these things over the years its just pathetic (more pathetic than my normal cooking if you can imagine that). My one true claim to fame has been cupcakes....it is after all.....hard to screw them up.....but I was feeling confident after the resounding success of the blueberry pie...and dug back....WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY back to the back of the cabinets and pulled out my two bundt cake pans.

I was in a quandary. Which one should I pick? I chose the green one over the orange. I have failed at my last 3 bundt cake attempts in the orange pan......sprayed with Pam....and poured my smooth delicious looking batter. I had changed the position of the racks in the oven....something that I have just taken to doing frequently (I think this has a lot to do with my recent successes), slid the pan in, and set the timer.

There was nothing to do but wait, and wait and wait. I resisted temptation as much as possible to open the door and peak in. The last bundt cake fell AND burnt because of my compulsion I think.....and 38 minutes later, I pulled out the most beautiful bundt cake ever. It wasn't just lovely in comparison to my usual cooking....it was lovely in general. It looked like something normal people would eat....and I was proud.

After a dinner of left over cubed steak, chicken, green beans and rice, I cut a small slice of cake.....cake I had left unfrosted.....the first unfrosted cake I have ever made. I admired the smell, color and the moistness....noticed it was a little dense for my liking BUT! it hadn't fallen....I picked up my fork, anticipating the zing of the lemon....and the phone rang. DDDDAAAAMMMMNNNNN!

It was my mother in law...calling to check and see how the blueberry pie came out....I gave the phone to Charles and sat back down. I quickly cut a piece and scooped it up with my fork.

It was wonderful.

I gave everyone at the table a bite of my cake...finished every last crumb on my plate...looked at Charles and said

"You only had to wait 10 years for me to learn how to cook."

he chuckled

"I think I'm just going to sit here and be smug for a while. I feel awful proud of myself"

"You did good baby"

"Yeah, now if I could only learn to keep a good house"

"Don't get ahead of yourself"

"Ass"

*sticks out tongue at me*

There's Love There

2007-07-19T17:21:00.000-04:00

I'm turning 33 in 8 days. It's not traumatic or anything, it's just another day, but Lauren is excited and has already given me a book of "poetry" she has written.

No really, she really did write me poetry....modern poetry if you will - with a spin.

My favorite one goes like this:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My feet stink and
So do you

Yes it seems she has "borrowed" a bit from the traditional "roses are red, violets are blue" but she really makes it her own with the stinky feet thing.

There's another one in there that runs a close second:

The reason I'm lazy and a pinch to crazy
Is because you hug me and kiss me to long
I know that's because you love me
But I wish you'd quit.

Yes, she is a treasure, isn't she. This is all her own. She didn't feel intimidated by peer pressure into making it rhyme...she just shouted her love on constructioin paper with crayon.

.......

She even went so far as to alter the Happy Birthday song for me...and I think it's the most terrifical (that's a very Tigger-ish word isn't it) song ever. It is written so I can sing it to myself....

Happy Birthday to Me
Happy Birthday to Me
I look like I'm 20
but I'm really 33.

No, I didn't commission that last one. She just knew she had better put something nice in if she wants to share my cake and ice cream ;D

Just Because I Have To

2007-07-16T12:54:00.001-04:00

Okay, I'm coming clean.

I'm an insurance salesman - a couple of you know this....

No, I'm not kidding.

Do you want to know one of the problems with being an insurance agent? NO? Tough shit, I'm telling you anyway. Everyone automatically thinks you're lying...and do you know why that is? Because many insurance salesmen do...at least in my experience. I can name 5 insurance agents that I know are honest....I won't tell you how many I know that aren't because it would depress you and send you running for an insurance quote and there would be so many calls that the phone lines would blow up (sounds like I'm flattering myself with the amount of readers...but you know what I meant, don't be difficult)

I will tell you this though. I work for an honest agent. I targeted him when I sent out my resume a couple of years ago because I knew via the grapevine that he was honest, I got lucky, and he hired me.

Now, I know that a lot of you hate the insurance man because you think he's always jerking your chain. You think he's always trying to take you money over some silly shit...always trying to sell you something. ------------that's just a whole other venting session -------------------

When I wrote your policy - you walked out of my office with my personal cell phone number in your hand. I made it clear you were not to call me with questions on your bill. It was an emergency number only. A number reserved for those "OH FUCK ME WITH BILL CLINTONS STINKY TOOL" moments. You wrecked your car? CALL ME. Your house caught fire? CALL ME. You just got an enema? WIPE YOUR ASS and don't eat any whole grains for a while.

I take care of my clients, and I take care of Bossman's clients. That's what I do....but do you know what really pisses me the off?

1 - LONG TERM CLIENTS. Yes, that's right. They fucking piss me off. WHY? Because they always think that because they've been with the company forever and a day they should be able to pay whatever price they want to pay. Yeah. Fuck off.

Insurance is a business like any other business and the prices go up. It's reality, accept it and drive the fuck on. You know the good old days when your insurance went down? Yeah, that doesn't happen much these days, so you can pretty much kiss that shit good-bye, and lick your lips, because that's probably the last taste of that you'll be getting. Inflation goes up - not down....and I don't see the average american's utility bills going down every month...so why in the fuck should your insurance go down hhhmmmmmmmmm?

"Why Mr and Mrs Jones! I see that you aren't using very much electricity these days, why don't we cut your unit cost from 1.00 to .75 for being such a long term client but not actually using our services."

I want to know how many of you actually have had that call happen.

2 - Clients that call me screaming when their rates go up because of the DUI, Reckless Driving, Suspended Lic. and 3 at fault accidence's they've had, have made their rates go up. Think you dumb shit. WHHATTT TTHHHEEE HHEEELLLLL DDDDDOOOO YYYYYOOOOOUUUUUU TTTTHHHHHIIIIIINNNNNNNNNKKKKKK IS GGGGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNN? I'm not going to call you and tell you that it's gonna be okay and verbally hold your hand and console you because you're fucking stupid AND I'm not gonna take your fucking abuse for your rates going up either. Hit the fucking road ass-munch. I don't get paid to get yelled at, be talked shitty to, to be intimidated (like that happens)or receive snide remarks from you - you walking batch of genital herpes.

3 - Clients who call me and threaten to "shop around" if I don't lower their rates. Fuck you. Go shopping. You want to go somewhere else? Then fucking go. You're threatening me and talking ugly to me, and it isn't conducive to me going out of my way to do shit for you...........not that I can do shit about your rates any damn way. That shit comes down from Regional. I'm all willing to go to bat for you if I don't see any reason for them to go up (mistakes do happen)...(if I do see reason for them to go up...please see above) but if that's the premium, then that's the premium. I can't pull something out of my ass to make you happy, and odds are, anything that I did pull out of my ass...wouldn't make you happy...so you're just SOL all the way around aren't you?

I actually have some really great clients. Some know me well, and some don't....but regardless of which...I'll do my best for you as long as you treat me with common courtesy and respect, but don't expect me to work a friggin miracle - especially when you're a screwed up driver with a bad attitude and bad credit.

I wrote this while very upset. I was a good girl and read over it a bit and deleted the word "Fuck" 7 times. You're stuck with the rest of the fucks because I thought they were good where they were...no pun intended.

HEAR YE! HEAR YE! or is that HARRYYY! HARRYYYY!

2007-07-13T10:23:00.000-04:00

I guess by now I should really give an explanation of my going away and coming back - because a few of you have asked...so here it is:

I left and then I came back.

Hope this helps.

BWWWWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I crack me up sometimes.

okay okay. I got tired of it. My husband got tired of me doing it. It was sucking up to much time out of my day...yada, yada, yada.

There was once upon a time, that I NEEDED the vent to keep from going stir crazy. I have now come to the conclusion that I'm already crazy and there really is no help for me, so now I'm going to fuck with your head......exactly how, I have no clue....but I'm sure something will come to me eventually, and then you're in for it. (I hope you sleep well with that thought in mind tonight)

I realise that my life is bereft without dishing out snark...and since I have no life, I choose to SNARK on you (excuse me, God Bless me, hope I didn't slime you).

There are some new rules for me below...please make a note of them.

I do not promise regular postings.
I do not promise to spell check.
I do not promise to check for punctuation and grammatical errors. (as if I ever have before)
I do not promise funny postings.
I do not promise to respond to your comments. (not being a bitch, but I'm cutting the time down here)
I do not promise to comment on your blog.
I do not promise to think.
I do not promise to struggle to put a sentence together coherently, or is that coherently together?...awww, who gives a shit.
I don't even promise to be lucid while posting...or even DRESSED! (that fucked with your head now didn't it - yeah, sleep well with that - you poor bastard)
And I most assuredly do NOT promise to keep my language clean - and I don't break any promises that I haven't made dammit...and let that be a lesson to me.

If you have any questions, you may ask, but who knows if I'll actually answer you? You could look at it like playing the lottery. If I decide to come down off my chemically induced high and answer, you win...but you don't get shit but a warm fuzzy feeling in your belly (and in your toes if you're a freak).

Hugs and kisses and shit to everybody.

Lessons Learned

2007-07-11T13:00:00.000-04:00

I got a letter last week.

A real bonafide letter from an actual person. No shit. It actually happened. My mailbox wilted temporarily with the shock. (visualize that)

It was from a very old friend of mine....whom I'll call Worker Bee. Someone I had met in Jr High (middle school to most of you out there) and continued to keep in contact with even after I had moved away to start high school in another town. We stayed in touch for years, but eventually lost touch after the birth my daughter 9 years ago, while she was pregnant.

I was shocked to hear from her. I was so happy! Immediately, thoughts of our old chummy school days passes through my mind. Thoughts of the bad joke wars we used to have made my cheeks plump with grinning. I felt the old fellowship all over again - all before I read more than 3 words in her letter. I wanted to know everything immediately, and I mean EVERYTHING - RIGHT NOW.

She told me that my cousin had died.

My cousin and I had the same name (with the exception of our last names) and I had looked her up a couple of years ago. Nicole, Worker Bee and I were all friends in school along with the usual gaggle of people with intermingled with, but to me, those two were my world.

Nicole even lived down the street from me and we had spent many hot, hazy, summer days playing outside and doing a lot of things we shouldn't have. We talked. We danced We roller skated. We did make up. We dressed up. We strutted. We talked about boys. We went swimming in the river. We would walk for miles around our neighborhood just so we wouldn't have to be at home. She was ever confident and self assured. She is the one that taught me not to give a damn what anyone else thought of me. She was naturally beautiful. She was the girl I always wanted to be....and she was dead, and no one had called me.

Worker Bee had written to me on the day of her funeral and that's how I found out....but I didn't get her letter until a month after she had written it(I would like to thank the postman for his continued ineptitude - and my husband for forgetting to give my my mail when I came back from NM).

I was very upset...not because she had told me in her letter, but because no one had called me....and because I had put off calling her for months and months...simply because I find it hard to pick up the phone sometimes. It's true that no one had called me, but I hadn't called them either, and that didn't make me feel any better. I felt/feel exceedingly guilty - because I knew she had been sick, and I didn't call.

I went to Childhood Town and laid flowers on Nicole's grave this past weekend. I had the florist make up the flowers especially for her - pink if you please, sir - and with a little card to with them. I was struck with a delima. How was I supposed to say everything I wanted to say on that little card? Exactly what could I say on that sad scrap of paper? I struggled. The florist looked at me expectantly, waiting.

I drove down the old historic streets marked with beautiful Inns and B&B's and lovely old fashioned restaurants and eventually found the town cemetery and after getting directions to her plot from Worker Bee, I found her. She was right by a majestic old tree, in the shade, with flowers all over her grave. He birthday had been the day before and it was obvious that even in death, she was still deeply loved, especially by the 3 children she left behind...16,12,and 4.

I don't know what to say or do in times like this. I was blessedly alone. I stared at her marker and grinned. I had never realized that she had dropped her maiden name instead of her middle name when she gotten married. I had done the same thing....just one more thing to tie us together....and I gave her her flowers, and I whispered to her, and I cried and I wanted to scream and I cried and then....then....because I hate crying...and I especially hate crying in public, I pulled myself together....and I went to visit another old friend ....Worker Bee.

...and Worker Bee and I laughed and ate and I met her husband and her children and we laughed and talked and looked at old pictures and I felt the old kinship still there. The old confidences whispered still echoed and we exchanged new secrets and we told more bad jokes and I had to tear myself away to go home.

I left Childhood Town behind knowing that though one old friendship was gone, there was another there for me.

I left Childhood Town with only a few flowers and a miniature card to cover the earth that covers one of the only true friends I've ever had.

To the Lady who taught me to dance as a child, may you dance among the clouds.

Meme

2007-07-09T12:13:00.000-04:00

Mama en Fuego wanted to know:

#1 If you tore off a piece of foil for a dish then decided to use saran wrap instead, would you throw away the foil or keep it to use later? To be honest, it would depend. I mean, how pissed off am I because I have to cook? If I'm not very pissed, I'll save it.

#2. If you could be a super hero, what would your name be and what kind of powers would you have? I would be called "The Midas Sphincter" Giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "shitting a (gold) brick"

#3. Do you believe in the 5 second rule? Depends on what it is...and I usually go by the 3 second rule, and you just have to use your discretion. Like water - I don't care what kind of rule you've got....it's not cool to drink water off the floor.

#4. Do you brush your teeth in the morning and at night? Do you floss? Yes, Yes and yes. I'm all about oral hygiene, Kiddies. I even have little floss gadgets in a baggie at work to get rid of those after lunch hangers on. I don't floss in front of anyone, and I don't brush my teeth at work, but it's not cool to have some green shit in your teeth - especially after you just bleached them to blinding whiteness.

#5. If money were no object, where would you live? Shit, I don't know.

#6. If you could go back in time for 5 minutes where would you go? Who would you visit? Hell I don't know. Only for 5 minutes? Doesn't give me anytime to introduce myself to anyone..... I'm going for.......Where - Iraq, When - Sept 1, 2001, WHO - no who - phone call to the White House.

#7. Do you believe in heaven? How do you picture heaven? Yes. I can't tell you everything about heaven, but I can tell you, it has a big beautiful library in it.

#8. Do you believe in hell? How do you picture hell? Yes. I can't tell you everything about hell, but I can tell you, it's where my in-laws live.

#9. If you found a hair in your food, and you knew it was yours, would you keep eating? I don't know. How long is the hair exactly? I mean it's one thing to find a short bang hair sitting lightly on top of your cool whip....it's quite another to find a foot long strand mixed in with the melted cheese.

#10. Your walking down the aisle in the supermarket and just as you pass a hot guy/chick you let out the worlds largest fart, what do you do? RUN AND LAUGH LIKE HELL WHILE BLAMING THE CHILDREN

#11. Have you ever had sex on a plane? Hell no.....why? You asking or something? Just so you know.....that's not my thing.

#12. Do you mix the food on your plate or do you segregate? I'm a total segregationist when it comes to my food. I don't mind if the juices mix or if they touch or any silly shit like that....but I don't want my peas gettin all chummy with my blob of 57 sauce.

#13. If you could go back and date someone again for a week, (before things got bad, ended, too complicated, what ever) who would you date again? My husband. No really, I'm not shitting. He puts them all to shame. That's why the sex is still so damn good.

#14. You're on an airplane and all the sudden there's a thunder down under and you have to go, NOW but you can see that there is at least a 3 person wait for a bathroom. What do you do? Squish the ol' cheeks together, do the poker up the ass walk, get in line and pray. If I feel I can't make it...I'll tell them I have Krohns Disease and go into detail. Yes I would.

#15. You and your significant other are moving in together. While putting some of their stuff away some naked pictures of their ex fall out. Do you confront them with the pictures? Do you take them and throw them away? What would you do? Dude, I'd totally throw that shit away. No need to tell him, he'll figure it out eventually and I wouldn't have to hear that lame ass excuse "oh! I totally forgot I had those" PPPPAAAAA LEEEEEEAAASE!!!!

#16. You win the lottery, millions, how do you spend the first 10k? Give it to family

#17. If you had a choice between being beautiful or being successful, which would you be? Successful. Success builds confidence, and that makes you sexy and beautiful.. no need to look like a model...I have my own look thank you.

#18. Can you lie with a straight face? Not when it's squished up against the mattress..............................WHAT??? Just keeping you on your toes. Um, yes I can, but I can't look you in the eye.

#19. What's the last prank you pulled on someone? THERE ARE SO MANY!!!!!

#20. You see a man and a little girl walking down the street. She's pulling away and yelling for him to "leave her alone." What do you do? Depends. I would definitely keep watching. Do I know them? Is he acting funny? Does she seem scared? Is my gun loaded?

4th of July

2007-07-03T18:03:00.001-04:00

Happy 4th of July Everybody!!!!

Don't burn any of your shit up or blow off your fingers.

Clues For You

2007-07-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

You guys know I love you don't you? Well, because I love you and shit, I'm making a list of things people need to know about foot maintenance...not necessarily for you specifically, but definitely for the public at large...because some folks out there scare me. Feel free to post this list at work and hand it out to "friends" and family.

You know you need to cut your toenails/take care of your feet when:

You can scratch your leg without moving your fingers.

Your toenails are scratching a hole in your shoe.

Your toenails require more polish than your fingernails.

Your toenail is longer than your toe.

Your toenails are just as long, or longer than anyone of your fingers.

Your sandals don't fit because your toenails hang over the ends.

You are mistaken for a Hobbit.

You don't need to wear cleats.

You look like you work on car engines with your feet - sporting that black line of nastiness under the nail and several built up callouses with sharp edges.

You have to clean beneath your toenails with a butter knife, and it doesn't really help.

You have to register your feet with the county and/or state as a deadly weapon.

Terrorist put a hit out on you because even they can't stand the site of your feet and view them as an aberration.

People have actually told you they would rather kiss you scaly, scab encrusted ass, than to look at your feet.

Bears like you, and view you as a potential mate.

Mr Rogers kicked you out of his neighborhood for scaring the children and clawing at the mailman.

You file your toenails to look like pointed cannibals teeth.

Razor blades immediately rust at close proximity to your bunions and callouses to avoid contact.

You've been banned from even the crappiest manicure places due to frequent breakage of their equipment.

You have several pending lawsuits for property damage and/or post traumatic stress disorder.

Your spouse makes you sleep with your shoes on.

Badgers hump your leg.

Your feet inspired the novella "Dinosaurs Live Again"

Sorry if you're offended by this list. You can send your complaints to www.Imawhineylittlebitchwithbadpersonalhygiene@yahoo.com

If I Wasn't Fat Before, I Am Now

2007-06-27T11:40:00.000-04:00

Dear Lord,

Thank you for giving man the wisdom to cook sopapillas. I know it's because you were hungry once too and wanted some good eatin'. I can see you now, chillin' out in the dessert grubbin' on sopapillas drizzled with honey, drinking some wine and cooling out with your apostles - the original OG.

I have lived a deprived life - never having tasted the wonderfulness of a sopapilla - or ever having heard of a sopapilla - until I went to visit my mother and step-dad in Albuquerque this past weekend.

I would also like to thank you Lord, for the Taco Salad I had at El Pinto's (which is the same place I had the sopapilla - but you already know that). It was wonderful - so wonderful in fact, that it made me want to sit up and slap my grandma - which I'm sure is going to be one of those sins you're going to hold against me later - but I couldn't help it. Taco Bell doesn't have a damn thing on it (did I just swear? My Bad. You're going to hold that against me too aren't you.) I will never again be able to go thru the drive thru at Taco Bell with the same sort of anticipation and over active salivary glands.

I have gone on line and gotten a sopapilla recipe....okay, I've gotten several recipes....and was just wondering which was the yummiest so that I may eat that one first.

Sante Fe Style Sopapillas

6 c. flour
1 1/2 tbsp oil
1 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 warm water

Put all dry ingredients in a mixing bowl. Add oil and rub through hands until blended. Add water a little at a time until dough is firm (like regular bread dough). Let stand 10 minutes before rolling.

On a well floured board, roll egg-size pieces approximately 6 inches in diameter. Fry in hot oil until golden brown on both sides. Serve immediately.

** This recipe can also be used for tortillas. Fry in lightly coated cast iron skillet until it blisters - turn and cook other side.

Sopapilla Recipe

6 c. flour
3 tsp of baking powder
3 tsp salt
5 tsp of shortening
3 c warm water

Add and mix all ingredients and slowly add water while mixing. Dough should roll, be elastic and not stick to your hands. Let sit in a covered bowl for approximately 45 mins.

Work your dough on a lightly flowered counter. Cut out balls and cover. Roll your balls into the shape of a tortilla. Cut in to triangles, squares, or whatever shape you wish and fry at approximately 420 . If the sopapilla drops to the bottom of the pan and bubbles slightly, discard and wait for the oil to heat up.

Another Sopapilla Recipe

1 env. dry yeast

1/2 c. warm water

3 c. flour1 egg

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. oil

1 tsp. sugar

Shortening or oil

Cinnamon

Honey

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Mix with other ingredients. Knead several minutes and set aside in warm place until dough rises (about 2 hours). Roll flat. Cut in 1 1/2 inch squares. Allow to rise again (1 hour). Drop squares in deep grease or hot oil.

Cook to a golden brown, turning once. Drain momentarily and dip in sugar and cinnamon mixture. Serve hot with honey. Especially good after eating hot seasoned food.

I also found this recipe...could you tell me if it's any good?

Sopapilla Cheesecake

2 8 oz pkgs of cream cheese
2 pkgs of refrigerated crescent rolls
1 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla or almond extract
1/2 c margarine or butter, melted
1/2 c cinnamon sugar

1. On 9x13 baking pan, unroll one package of refrigerated crescent rolls and line the bottom of the pan.

2. Flatten

3. Combine cream cheese, sugar and extract

4. Spread over crescent rolls

5. Unroll the other can of crescent rolls and place on top of cream cheese mixture.

6. Pour melted butter or margarine over top and spread with brush.

7. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar mixture.

8. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Also, while I have your attention Lord, I was wondering....could you somehow find it in your heart to make my husband like mexican food? Thanks

Goodbye

2007-04-24T08:49:00.000-04:00

You know, a few months ago, rumor had it that someone had voted me a thinking blogger. I'm not gonna say who it was....because then you'll be bombarding her with requests for her to share her crack with you.

I freely admit to not being a serious blogger. I think that life is serious enough. I need the frivolity of silliness, snarkiness and nakedness....uh, scratch that last one it has nothing to do with you - to ease the stress of everyday life.

I've gotten a funny post award and thinking blogger and a couple of others. I have never acknowledged them - but it's not because I'm being a bitch - it's because I didn't know quite what to say. I'm not good with the modesty thing...so while you saw no "THANK YOU"'s or "THAT'S GREAT I DON"T KNOW WHAT TO SAY"'s - I do deeply appreciate it and did the happy dance - accompanied by being insufferable in varing degrees (hush Carm).

I have gone from blogging every so often, to blogging everyday, to blogging intermitantly, to trying my best to put something up on Monday Wed and Fri.

I had quite a few readers once upon a time ago....used to get regular emails from a few....and even happily blog surfed to waggle my ass at someone in their comment box...but I don't do that much these days. The site meter would register a couple of hundred hits a day a few months ago and that used to be what would make my day...but not any more. The ol' bloggin engine is winding down...and I'm ready to go...and I think it's past time that I did so.

The 'ol blog just isn't as snarky as it used to be....and that's a good thing...because my snark usually equals anger...and I'm not as angry as I was even a year ago. I used to walk around constantly pissed off at everything, and this has given me a great place to really say what I wanted to say and learn from others...and I've learned quite a bit from all of you.

I guess really what I've been trying to say here is this:

Thanks for reading...and letting me read...and talking with me.

See you on the flip side.

Angela

Walter is THE Man

2007-04-19T10:58:00.000-04:00

Have you seen this?

Make sure there's nothing in your mouth when you watch it.

Flied Lice

2007-04-17T10:21:00.000-04:00

ATM, this link is for you.

Chinese Food Song

Oh don't give me those hurt little puppy dog eyes. You can click on the link too.

Interview

2007-04-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

Mamatulip sent me some interview questions. Now let me shine my light on you all and answer them for you (HEY! who threw that rotten egg? Was that really necessary?)

1. Which celebrity -- and I mean any celebrity, dead or alive -- can you most easily relate to? Interesting question. I don't relate to any celebrity. I like several...but I can't really "relate" to any of them. To be honest, I don't really pay any attention to them...unless they are just fine as hell and then I think about....never mind what I think about. Next question please.

2. Name the top three things that really fuckin' piss you off. You're really limiting me here you know that don't you. Why do you have to limit the hate? Here they are, in no particular order(but I do reserve the right to alter this list at anytime with no prior notification):
WOMEN DRIVERS
POLITICIANS/POLITICS
CONDESENDING/RUDE PEOPLE

3. What was the first blog you started reading? Do you still read it?
It was USED KITTY LITTER...and it's been deleted. The second one I started reading was Cheaper Than Therapy - and yes I still read her.

4. Tell us one thing you really love about your husband and one thing you really don't love about him.
ONE? You're killing me. Love - his ability to NOT talk down to me. I've found that most men do that to women with out realizing it. He has never done that to me. Not ever.

Hate - He doesn't pick up after himself.

5. Beer, wine or hard liquor? Hard liquor. I'm a tequilla chick. Tequilla sunrises - easy grenadine. Yum. No tequilla shots please - I'll get really drunk REALLY fast. I have no alcohol tolerance you know. It's a bit sad really....but it does save money.

Advised Needed Please

2007-04-13T13:24:00.000-04:00

Today, we are going to take a break from our intermittently scheduled rants, snark and little kids stories for some serious discussion in which your advise is needed.

This will be a bit of a reader but please stick with me.....

I was talking to my sister in law on the phone the other night and she has a bit of a conundrum...her son. LOL Okay, not really her son, but her disciplining of said son.

David, (my nephew) is 18 months old and we were talking about disciplining our kids. Now before you all scream and cuss at me...understand I hit my children. I believe in physical discipline. I don't beat the ever living' crap out of them, but I do pop hands when there is touching of items that they shouldn't be touching...but I only hit and pop as a last resort after sufficient warnings - so believe me when I say we talked about it, she's tried it, and it doensn't work.

She needs advise on everyday disciplinary stuff. Stop climbing on that, don't do that etc.

I recommended counting and using her voice as a tool to help show David when he was sinking in ever deepening doo-doo with his mom. She advised that she tried the counting and when she would say "ONE" he would say "TWO" - thinking that mom was teaching him to count.

I personally send my son to bed for a minute. It's a terrible thing for him to be there and he comes out with hugs and kisses and "I SORRY" and says he won't do it again...until the next time.... IE Throwing himself on the floor because he didn't get his way.

Me - Connor, I said no more cookies and I mean what I say.

Connor - *throws self on floor*

Me - Connor, get up.

Connor - *screams and cries*

Me - ONE

Connor - *looks at me crying*

Me - TWO

Connor - *screams no mommy no*

Me - THREE. Then I go pick him up and put him to bed and I set the timer on the microwave for one minute and I then go check on him yada yada yada. We have progressed to the point that all I have to do is ask him if he wants to go Night-Night and he'll straighten up...the key factor here being I always have to be ready to follow thru on my threats of putting him to bed..and he does call me on it from time to time....testing limits.

For Connor, I have found this to be a very effective discipline. Spanking doesn't work with him, and was/is seldom needed with Lauren....

Counting worked great for Lauren, I rarely ever had to physically discipline her. She was so sensitive and people pleasing, all I had to do was look at her and tell her "Little girl, you're getting ready to have a bad day" and that would be that.

The problem here is Marla is at a loss of how to discipline David. He laughs at her if she spanks him...it doesn't bother him to be sent to his room.

The only other thing that I can think of is time out..and he seems to young for that.

What advise can you Moms out there give .... no flogging isn't an option.. Seriously, she needs a hand here. What do you and your friends do? Do you know of any good blogs or websites that deal with this sort of thing?
_____________________________________________

I apologize for being gone for a full week, but I've been looking up some things on the internet and got distracted. NO! IT'S NOT PORN. you sicko.