In the news today I found an article the perfectly describes why I have no patience for stupid. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE. As a non-Christian, I'm 100% certain I would not survive well in the deep south, even though I don't generally advertise my beliefs nor do I dispute anyone else's. But… Continue reading "Because Beelzabub touched my W-2. That’s why."
Tag: I don’t know how to label this
It’s a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy!
Not this one: Creepy Walken Face Courtesy of IMDB.comAlthough I did discover (while wasting time on IMDB.com finding that picture) that the same dude who did Highlander did The Prophecy movies. Cool. But no, that's not the prophecy I meant. Nor is the solstice/endoftheworld/apocalypse my subject today, despite "oh god, oh god, we're all… Continue reading It’s a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy!
Dude. Really. You should ride that ride.
In a surreal afternoon event, I've had a quote a friend said to me two years ago at Renaissance Festival running maddeningly hilarious circles through my head. A group of us took the day off one particularly pleasing afternoon to wander like idiots and drink ourselves silly. Indeed, mission accomplished for Husband and the other… Continue reading Dude. Really. You should ride that ride.
CLIMB INTO THE HANDBASKET…and hang the hell on.
If you're wondering, I'm TOTALLY using that title for my as-yet-ill-conceived memoir. That's right: "climb into the handbasket" was one of the many fucked-up ways people found this blog. Here are a few others: "i'm in love with my same sex therapist" - I'm fairly certain I've never blogged about this. Should I ever I'll… Continue reading CLIMB INTO THE HANDBASKET…and hang the hell on.
I’m Wonder Woman…without the sexy costume.
My grossly neglected dogs (who have punished me for recent lack-of-attention by killing birds, eating bad Halloween candy and vomiting aluminum wrappers all over the floor under the table, and other manifestations of evil) had a vet appointment today. Both survived their respective tortures: Chewy is prone to ear infections: he has one (and it's… Continue reading I’m Wonder Woman…without the sexy costume.
My 250th Post Should Have Substance, right? (or, shit I’d do if Death was comin’ to GET me)
But instead, I'm pirating from myself. So I have this really good friend who is mostly bored to death with what most people do for fun (strip clubs, TV, movies, the bar...) and likes to discuss deep shit. I mean Deep Shit: he persistently asks me hard questions. Not rocket-science or calculus or how to bake… Continue reading My 250th Post Should Have Substance, right? (or, shit I’d do if Death was comin’ to GET me)
Random Shit: Because I Still Can’t Write A Real Post
The weekend was a flurry of hospital time, family time (parents are heading back to California today, because they're assholes who live where it's warm), and errands. I suck at blogging lately, it's true. I spent quite a bit of time surfing facebook in the dark because Husband was napping and I couldn't turn the goddamn… Continue reading Random Shit: Because I Still Can’t Write A Real Post
My Middle Name? Definitely not THAT.
Have I mentioned I'm not a terribly patient person? Yeah. I'm not. I have no intention of turning this blog into a medical-world-recovery diary, but it's likely to creep in here and there... The way people react to a crisis is fascinating, and if I wasn't in the midst of one I'd likely be… Continue reading My Middle Name? Definitely not THAT.
What the hell…it’s mid-September already?
Jesus Hannibal Christ. (Hey, the "H" has to stand for something, right?) The past two weeks have been a sleep-deprived, stress-induced blur...all of the sudden summer is dead and we've moved into MY FAVORITE SEASON. Conveniently, this happened just when Husband is awake, out of the ICU, on the (cranky) mend, and able to coordinate his… Continue reading What the hell…it’s mid-September already?
This is not real. Is it??
BaaRamEwe BitchesSeriously...I'm tempted to buy this and put it in Husband's office as an evil surprise Christmas present (since that'll be the next time he'll be able to get upstairs in our house).
No Pithy Phrase 