Tasty Road Kill
The concept of this treat had to have been conceived in the mind of some Cajun working in the Lousiana division of KRAFT. I am just a bit saddened that they don't include a skunk in the mix, just partly flattened snakes, chickens and squirrels. Also why not an armadillo? I just must get some - not much into Gummi candies, but who could resist a squirrel with a tire track on it? You know you couldn't!
But some people are pissed about this tasteless little confection. Tight ass animal rights activists say it's cruel and promotes violence against animals to children. *eyes rolling up in head* Just read the article here. Can these people not take a joke???
*sigh* All this talk about road kill has me thinking aobut lunch, think I'll go warm up my armadillo on the half shell - luckily this time I didn't hit it so hard so it'll be nice and tender. ;o)
Friday, February 25, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
I Swallow!
Here's one for the guys - it illustrates why it's BEST to have a girlfriend who swallows. And it highlights why I am an fabulous girlfriend (because I swallow).
(I'm actually quite creeped out by the woman who did this.) This is my favorite line in this story:
"She asserts that when plaintiff 'delivered' his sperm, it was a gift — an absolute and irrevocable transfer of title to property from a donor to a donee,"
heh... gift... Hey XXX, ya gonna 'deliver' any 'gifts' to me this weekend?
Here's one for the guys - it illustrates why it's BEST to have a girlfriend who swallows. And it highlights why I am an fabulous girlfriend (because I swallow).
(I'm actually quite creeped out by the woman who did this.) This is my favorite line in this story:
"She asserts that when plaintiff 'delivered' his sperm, it was a gift — an absolute and irrevocable transfer of title to property from a donor to a donee,"
heh... gift... Hey XXX, ya gonna 'deliver' any 'gifts' to me this weekend?
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Odd Inquiry
I answer the phone to hear the question "Boxers or briefs?", and stammer "uh.. boxers I guess." The caller says "No your husband, boxers or briefs?" I answer (which is not relevant to the story really) and we hang up, I think to myself "Hmmm... I wonder if they remember that I don't have sighting of K's underwear these days." (and that my friends is a true blessing.)
Gentle caller, I hope my impromptu reply has given you the answer you needed concerning K's unmentionables. I have to request that anyone else wanting information of that type to put your request in writing and submit it to K personally. I have nothing to do with his underpants and would prefer my thoughts free of his undies. I don't even wash his underwear if at all possible, he's completly responsible for his own skives these days.
Now I think I'll need an internet porn cleansing to get the images of his laundry out of my head.
*note: the caller was a GUY and not K's boyfriend! Dude... do we need to have a talk
I answer the phone to hear the question "Boxers or briefs?", and stammer "uh.. boxers I guess." The caller says "No your husband, boxers or briefs?" I answer (which is not relevant to the story really) and we hang up, I think to myself "Hmmm... I wonder if they remember that I don't have sighting of K's underwear these days." (and that my friends is a true blessing.)
Gentle caller, I hope my impromptu reply has given you the answer you needed concerning K's unmentionables. I have to request that anyone else wanting information of that type to put your request in writing and submit it to K personally. I have nothing to do with his underpants and would prefer my thoughts free of his undies. I don't even wash his underwear if at all possible, he's completly responsible for his own skives these days.
Now I think I'll need an internet porn cleansing to get the images of his laundry out of my head.
*note: the caller was a GUY and not K's boyfriend! Dude... do we need to have a talk
Crap Cluttering Up My Head
Yesterday was an alternately productive and unproductive day. I did clean the kitchen thorougly and did a load of laundry - yes A LOAD, which is actually fairly pittiful as this household can produce 3 loads of laundry in one freaking day. I have no idea how that happens, some kind of laundry mojo, but it happens. Last week I got all of the laundry done save two loads of miscellanous non clothing crap. By Monday the laundry room was bulging and I had to call in two midgets to hold the door closed so I wouldn't have to see it. Sadly the midgets got drunk and I had to kick them out then do some laundry.
Laundry Delima
Generally I don't mind doing laundry but recently I've come to an point where I don't fucking want to fold laundry. I will continue to WASH and dry laundry, piling the CLEAN and fluffy laundry on the sofa in hopes of it magically folding itself and finding it's way upstairs to be put away. I think this is some passive agressive attempt to get someone (K) to help fold laundry (and not just HIS). It doesn't work. Men don't get subtle. So the laundry languishes on the sofa for a couple of days before it drives me to hit the bottle and since I generally don't have much booze in the house I have to resort to actually folding the fucking laundry.
A pox on thee foul linens! Stop vexing me so! Ah well... deep cleansing breaths... must do the Zen thing... the laundry is only as bad as I let it be... Yeah RIGHT!
Moving on...
Who Would Shoplift Yogurt On Sale?
Last night we went grocery shopping, it's an evil necessity and it was a better option than sending Super Girl to school with a lunch of multi-grain crackers with jelly, some stale white cheddar popcorn, a few sad looking grapes and a bottle of nasty beer. Off to Albies we go. They have this cool self scan thing so you can scan things as you shop. I like this as I can keep track of how much I'm spending on wine and Nyquil and balance it out by spending the same amount on food for the offspring. Last night I was not feeling to damn good. Someone was tampering with a voodoo doll of me and my stomach was hurting. (time to start making voodoo dolls of people again... I even have someone in mind, might not be the person stabbing my doll, but throwing this person in the dryer will definitly make me feel better and less likely to get a gun and head for a clock tower.) By the time we hit the speedy check out lane with our $49.33 worth of yogurt and hooch, I was in no mood to be messed with. I did all the stuff to have my information downloaded from my scanner so I could bag shit up and pay when the checker/attendant/service person over the SELF CHECK OUT came over and said that she had to check my basket. She randomly scans a few items in my basket and says to me "Did you scan all of the things in your basket?" giving me a look like "Oh I just caught you trying to steal." I very crossly told her that yes I did scan everything in my basket. She goes back to randomly scanning items in my basket and giving me the "You are a lyeing thief" look which is pissing me off and making me want to smack her or just walk the fuck out (which I could not do as I HAD to have my wine and Nyquill.. I mean, bread to make Super Girl's lunch with). Finally I tell her I'll just scan everything again and shove my basket over to the check out. I scan everything again and guess what? The total is STILL $49.33. A-Fucking-Mazing, I wasn't trying to steal yogurt after all. And honestly, if I WAS going to shoplift some groceries, it sure as hell wouldn't be $2 worth of yogurt and $3 worth of lunch meat, I'd be hiding $20 worth of prime rib or something! Also, I sure as shit would not be bringing the family along on a shoplifting spree... "Okay officer, can you let me give my kid a dollar to call her auntie? Okay Super Girl, call Aunt D and tell her mommy is going to the pokey and she needs to come pick you up then find a nice bail bonds man to get mommy out. Can you remember that?" Fuck them. As we walked to the car K said to me "Did she just accuse us of trying to steal?" I assured him that she did infact imply we were trying to shoplift and K said he would write the division office and complain. Which is a good idea even though I'm very good at writing coherent and to the point complaint letters, I think he should this time as he's much less likely to use phrases like "mutha'fuckin' carton of yogurt", "fucking store" or "smug little cunt".
Mini Vacation
I leave Friday night to see XXX. I'm excited, I haven't seen him since mid January and I miss him quite a bit.
Yesterday was an alternately productive and unproductive day. I did clean the kitchen thorougly and did a load of laundry - yes A LOAD, which is actually fairly pittiful as this household can produce 3 loads of laundry in one freaking day. I have no idea how that happens, some kind of laundry mojo, but it happens. Last week I got all of the laundry done save two loads of miscellanous non clothing crap. By Monday the laundry room was bulging and I had to call in two midgets to hold the door closed so I wouldn't have to see it. Sadly the midgets got drunk and I had to kick them out then do some laundry.
Laundry Delima
Generally I don't mind doing laundry but recently I've come to an point where I don't fucking want to fold laundry. I will continue to WASH and dry laundry, piling the CLEAN and fluffy laundry on the sofa in hopes of it magically folding itself and finding it's way upstairs to be put away. I think this is some passive agressive attempt to get someone (K) to help fold laundry (and not just HIS). It doesn't work. Men don't get subtle. So the laundry languishes on the sofa for a couple of days before it drives me to hit the bottle and since I generally don't have much booze in the house I have to resort to actually folding the fucking laundry.
A pox on thee foul linens! Stop vexing me so! Ah well... deep cleansing breaths... must do the Zen thing... the laundry is only as bad as I let it be... Yeah RIGHT!
Moving on...
Who Would Shoplift Yogurt On Sale?
Last night we went grocery shopping, it's an evil necessity and it was a better option than sending Super Girl to school with a lunch of multi-grain crackers with jelly, some stale white cheddar popcorn, a few sad looking grapes and a bottle of nasty beer. Off to Albies we go. They have this cool self scan thing so you can scan things as you shop. I like this as I can keep track of how much I'm spending on wine and Nyquil and balance it out by spending the same amount on food for the offspring. Last night I was not feeling to damn good. Someone was tampering with a voodoo doll of me and my stomach was hurting. (time to start making voodoo dolls of people again... I even have someone in mind, might not be the person stabbing my doll, but throwing this person in the dryer will definitly make me feel better and less likely to get a gun and head for a clock tower.) By the time we hit the speedy check out lane with our $49.33 worth of yogurt and hooch, I was in no mood to be messed with. I did all the stuff to have my information downloaded from my scanner so I could bag shit up and pay when the checker/attendant/service person over the SELF CHECK OUT came over and said that she had to check my basket. She randomly scans a few items in my basket and says to me "Did you scan all of the things in your basket?" giving me a look like "Oh I just caught you trying to steal." I very crossly told her that yes I did scan everything in my basket. She goes back to randomly scanning items in my basket and giving me the "You are a lyeing thief" look which is pissing me off and making me want to smack her or just walk the fuck out (which I could not do as I HAD to have my wine and Nyquill.. I mean, bread to make Super Girl's lunch with). Finally I tell her I'll just scan everything again and shove my basket over to the check out. I scan everything again and guess what? The total is STILL $49.33. A-Fucking-Mazing, I wasn't trying to steal yogurt after all. And honestly, if I WAS going to shoplift some groceries, it sure as hell wouldn't be $2 worth of yogurt and $3 worth of lunch meat, I'd be hiding $20 worth of prime rib or something! Also, I sure as shit would not be bringing the family along on a shoplifting spree... "Okay officer, can you let me give my kid a dollar to call her auntie? Okay Super Girl, call Aunt D and tell her mommy is going to the pokey and she needs to come pick you up then find a nice bail bonds man to get mommy out. Can you remember that?" Fuck them. As we walked to the car K said to me "Did she just accuse us of trying to steal?" I assured him that she did infact imply we were trying to shoplift and K said he would write the division office and complain. Which is a good idea even though I'm very good at writing coherent and to the point complaint letters, I think he should this time as he's much less likely to use phrases like "mutha'fuckin' carton of yogurt", "fucking store" or "smug little cunt".
Mini Vacation
I leave Friday night to see XXX. I'm excited, I haven't seen him since mid January and I miss him quite a bit.
Back By Popular Demand
I'll be participating in Illustration Friday's again. This week I won't be participating this Friday as the topic is Sorrow and quite frankly that is depressing. I could eaisly come up with something for it, even things pertinent to current events, but I just don't want to, I'm quite tired of being sad. So if someone can think of a NON depressing topic to illustrate, make a suggestion and we'll see just how creative I can get.
I'll be participating in Illustration Friday's again. This week I won't be participating this Friday as the topic is Sorrow and quite frankly that is depressing. I could eaisly come up with something for it, even things pertinent to current events, but I just don't want to, I'm quite tired of being sad. So if someone can think of a NON depressing topic to illustrate, make a suggestion and we'll see just how creative I can get.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Late Pressies Are Great!
This past Saturday at our bi-monthly gameing session, Petey & The Bear (his wife) brought my late Christmas/Chanukah present. The 2005 children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market. I was so excited! Still am! I would LOVE to be an illustrator.
It's always great to have friends who are supportive and encouraging. Thanks Petey & The Bear!
This past Saturday at our bi-monthly gameing session, Petey & The Bear (his wife) brought my late Christmas/Chanukah present. The 2005 children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market. I was so excited! Still am! I would LOVE to be an illustrator.
It's always great to have friends who are supportive and encouraging. Thanks Petey & The Bear!
Baby Jekyll & Baby Hyde
People who say that being a full time mom is easy are either (a) childless or (b) lieing about their own little demons, possibly (c) regularly sedating their kids or possibly (d)complete fucking morons. I challenge these people to spend a long weekend with my kids (sans me) and see if their opinion changes.
Living with a toddler is much like living with a very volitile person with schizophrenia who happens to really love Elmo. Lucky for me my family is fraught with mental illness so I'm not terribly caught off guard when my darling little child's head spins around and she turns into the demon I know she can be.
Take this morning, it started out like most Monday mornings. The alarm goes off, I eventually get out of bed, start reading e-mail as K herds the Little People down stairs for breakfast. As with most mornings that Cabbage Patch doesn't wake on her own, she's become The Badger (not to be confused with this), so named because she's so unpleasant in the mornings and much like a badger, she doesn't like to be disturbed. This fine morning, she burrows into the sofa and stays there while Super Girl has breakfast and get's ready for school. 10 minutes before we leave (because doing this any sooner just means I suffer longer), I pull her out of the sofa to get her dressed and it goes something like this:
**Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I don't wanna get dressed!
Me: Too bad.
Badger: Whaaaaaaa! NOOOOOOO! I want breakfast!
Me: You'll have to wait until we drop off sister.
Badger: NOT THOSE PANTS! I don't want those pants!
Me: Too bad.
Badger: NOOOOOOOO! Not my 'jama pants! Don't take dem off! NOOOOOOO!
Me: *silent determination*
Badger: Breakfast! I want breakfast! No pants!
Me: Cabbage Patch, you'll have to wait until we get back. You have to get dressed.
Badger: NOOOOOOOOO! I don't want to! *hits me*
Me: *smacks Badger's bottom* Stop that.
repeat 5 times from ** before continuing
(time to leave)
Badger: Not that sweater! Not that sweater!
Me: Come on, we are running late now.
Super Girl: I'm ready!
Me: I'm not talking to you. Open the door.
Badger: Nooooooooo! I don't want dez pants!
Me: *Pushing the Badger out the door* Let's go.
***Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I can't walk! I can't walk!
Me: *pulling her along* Yes you can, see you're doing it right now.
Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not dis sweater! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! I don't want deez pants!
Me: Fine, you can put your jammie pants back on when we get home.
Repeat from *** for the next 5 minutes
On the way home:
Badger: *snif* I wear my 'jamma pants when I get home?
Me: Yes.
Badger: *snif* I take off dis sweater?
Me: Sure.
Badger: Okay.
Badger: I watch Elmo?
Me: That's fine.
Back home, she's smiling and laughing, all evidence of her personality shift is completly gone. I'm not sure if she needs phsychotherapy or an exorcist (not to be confused with this) (maybe I just need more Duct tape... and some valium for myself).
People who say that being a full time mom is easy are either (a) childless or (b) lieing about their own little demons, possibly (c) regularly sedating their kids or possibly (d)complete fucking morons. I challenge these people to spend a long weekend with my kids (sans me) and see if their opinion changes.
Living with a toddler is much like living with a very volitile person with schizophrenia who happens to really love Elmo. Lucky for me my family is fraught with mental illness so I'm not terribly caught off guard when my darling little child's head spins around and she turns into the demon I know she can be.
Take this morning, it started out like most Monday mornings. The alarm goes off, I eventually get out of bed, start reading e-mail as K herds the Little People down stairs for breakfast. As with most mornings that Cabbage Patch doesn't wake on her own, she's become The Badger (not to be confused with this), so named because she's so unpleasant in the mornings and much like a badger, she doesn't like to be disturbed. This fine morning, she burrows into the sofa and stays there while Super Girl has breakfast and get's ready for school. 10 minutes before we leave (because doing this any sooner just means I suffer longer), I pull her out of the sofa to get her dressed and it goes something like this:
**Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I don't wanna get dressed!
Me: Too bad.
Badger: Whaaaaaaa! NOOOOOOO! I want breakfast!
Me: You'll have to wait until we drop off sister.
Badger: NOT THOSE PANTS! I don't want those pants!
Me: Too bad.
Badger: NOOOOOOOO! Not my 'jama pants! Don't take dem off! NOOOOOOO!
Me: *silent determination*
Badger: Breakfast! I want breakfast! No pants!
Me: Cabbage Patch, you'll have to wait until we get back. You have to get dressed.
Badger: NOOOOOOOOO! I don't want to! *hits me*
Me: *smacks Badger's bottom* Stop that.
repeat 5 times from ** before continuing
(time to leave)
Badger: Not that sweater! Not that sweater!
Me: Come on, we are running late now.
Super Girl: I'm ready!
Me: I'm not talking to you. Open the door.
Badger: Nooooooooo! I don't want dez pants!
Me: *Pushing the Badger out the door* Let's go.
***Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I can't walk! I can't walk!
Me: *pulling her along* Yes you can, see you're doing it right now.
Badger: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not dis sweater! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! I don't want deez pants!
Me: Fine, you can put your jammie pants back on when we get home.
Repeat from *** for the next 5 minutes
On the way home:
Badger: *snif* I wear my 'jamma pants when I get home?
Me: Yes.
Badger: *snif* I take off dis sweater?
Me: Sure.
Badger: Okay.
Badger: I watch Elmo?
Me: That's fine.
Back home, she's smiling and laughing, all evidence of her personality shift is completly gone. I'm not sure if she needs phsychotherapy or an exorcist (not to be confused with this) (maybe I just need more Duct tape... and some valium for myself).
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