Friday, January 27, 2006

you found me when no one else was looking

Holy hell. Now that I read what the gubment considers the income of the "poorest people" in America is,
I'm driving my Hoveround to bed and I'm not getting up until Mr. G gets a second job.

In a survey by Harlequin Romance, conducted in sixteen countries, they've discovered the most important trait in a mate is a sense of humor, while guys consider looks the most important trait. Yeah, ladies, humor is the number one thing we look for.
That's why we're all beating a path to Carrot Top's door....

A woman was fined by the police for allowing her three children to ride in her trunk when the episode was caught on tape.
Why did she do it? Because the kids asked her to. Hey, my offspring ask me if they can have cigarettes but you don't see me letting--ok maybe that's not a good example. Hey, my offspring ask if they can have alcohol but--no, don't wanna go down that road either. Hey, my offspring ask if they can ride on my Hoveround, but you don't see me letting them.!!! Because I'm a mother and I know that I have to take into account what's good for my offspring, and I have to make the hard decisions.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my sweetie, MR. G!!!! I love you!!!
(blowjob to follow....)

So it's back to the rendering plant I go for seven more days of fun, frivolity and furry dead things!!

Whoa. What the hell happened to St. Oprah and James Frey? Last week she was all kissy, huggy, "it's ok that you lied about things as long as you helped people with your book. Screw the truth!" THIS week, it's quite a different story.
Because of an outpouring of angry emails from her viewers, now she's outraged at FRey's deceit.
She flips, she flopped. And now she's saying he lied to millions of people...something we figured out when the story broke.
Where it gets confusing is the fact that Frey INSISTS he told the publishers and Oprah's staff beforehand that parts of the book was fabricated. IF
that is the case, and if Oprah didn't bother to pass that on to the audience during the first show, then the fault does not lie with Frey.

So I sent the link for the BADDDDDDDD Lab story to Female Offspring #1 and told her i was busy penning
Holly's exploits so that I,too, could become a bajillionaire. Might as well get something other than high blood pressure out of the deal.
She emailed me back and said, "Mom. You DO realize you have to have some good, heartwarming
stories in which Holly HELPED to balance the book out, right?" DAMN IT!!

Yesterday I visited my chiropractor, who I seriously believe is trying to kill me, then I went shopping.
Why you ask? Cuz I needed maxi pads. With wings. Oh! You mean "why do I think my chiro is trying to kill me?"
Because he keeps telling me I MUST DO SQUATS!!! The nerve of him suggesting I not only exercise, but
that I exercise with my legs! I said, "Fine, I'll do squats........insomuch as one can do squats in a Hoveround."

After my chiro once again tried to kill me, I drove to Walmart, to savour the white trash shopping experience.
First off, the slacker greeter barely worked up a hello--you know this is my pet peeve--and that was only after *I* said hello first.
I suggested to the manager that he fire his grandma and get a REAL greeter.
I bought the vitamins, maxi pads and various other items that I'd come for and proceeded to the checkout.
Now most stores have a "less than 10 items" aisle, but no, Walmart has to be different.
Theirs is like 16 or 18 items, so there are usually a lot of people in that line, and most of them have about 40 things.
I carefully scoped out each checkout and assessed how many items they had, and tried to decide which people looked like "talkers."
Old people who haven't been out of the house for days and women with babies are Numero Uno on the "talkers list".
I settled on aisle #4 and got all my stuff out of the cart. There was only one guy in front of me, he looked grumpy,
so I figured it wouldn't take long. Not much chance of him wanting to chit chat about the bad weather or his ingrown toenail.
The instant I finished emptying my cart, I heard the cashier say, "This bag of dog food is torn, I'll have to have someone get you another one." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
If Grandpa Surly doesn't care that he's dribbled out about three pounds of GRavy Train while carrying the bag
through the store, why should the cashier??
She'd already rung him up, so we had to wait for Stockboy Joe Slacker to come sauntering up from the
Pet Foods section to see what kind of dog food it was and how much it weighed.
Then he's off to follow the trail of Gravy Train, Hansel and Grettel style.
I'm thinking, "Ten to one that was the only bag that size on the shelf and Grandpa Surly is too stupid to tell them that."
At this point, I have to decide whether or not it's worth it to gut it out, or slap all my stuff back into the cart and schlepp my wares to another line. I look around and everyone else's line looks just as busy, so I decide to gut it out. At this point, the cashier catches my eye and gives me the fake "I'm sorry this is taking so long" smile. In return, I give her the fake "Fuck off. I DO have a life yanno. BTW, I blame YOU!" smile of my own.
Naturally, I start doing my Kegel exercises to firm up my vaginal muscles while I wait.
Suddenly, the Enquirer headline catches my eye, "Star Jones Stomach Stapling SCANDAL!!"
A fat chick gets her stomach stapled and THAT'S a scandal?
Five minutes later, Joe Slacker returns with shocking news, "That's the only bag of Gravy Train that size on the shelf."
Who could have seen THAT coming?! Besides, Helen Keller, Jose Felicano, Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles?
The cashier looks from Joe Slacker to the customer, waiting for one of them to say something.
I began banging my head against the eye appealing display of Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious, praying for death,
sweet death to take me. Preferably BEFORE I pay for my items.
Mr Grumpy says, "Are there anymore in the back?"
At this point I turn all my mental powers of telepathy towards Joe Slacker and begin to silently chant, "Tell him "no," tell him 'NO!""
Joe Slacker looked Mr. Grumpy right in the eye and with all the sincerity of a politician, said, "No, I checked in the back."
Now we ALL know he's lying, cuz there's no way he could have gotten his lazy ass all the way to the back in the amount of time he was AWOL, but more importantly, we all know he lacked the initiative to even try. That's right, for some strange reason, people earning minimum wage ($5.25 an hour) juuuust don't give a shit. But there's not a damn thing Mr. Grumpy can do about it.
Finally he asks her to just take the money off of his order and it's my turn.
I'm rung up and she starts packing my stuff. I gotta say, I hate this new system they have where your bags are on a spinning thing (or as I call it, "the merry go round for plastic bags') and you're required to make a grab for your bags off as it comes whizzing around to your side of the checkout. Otherwise you have to wait until it makes another rotation. If you forget a bag, T.S. Finally I am on my way out of the store, and what do I see? No less than five cashiers standing with their arms across their chest doing nada, zip, zilch, and I think to myself, "Oh, this is all going in my blog..."

So here are your National Enquirer headlines for this week:
Bobby is allegedly going to divorce Whitless (pretty damn sad when Bobby is the mature, clear thinking one),
Star Jones allegedly had gastric bypass (oh big shocker to everyone on the planet ),
Ted Kennedy allegedly has a love child (OMG! who'd want to have alleged sex with HIM?!)
and Jennifer is absofreakinglutely allegedly reeling from the Jolie pregnancy news.

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