Monday, May 22, 2006

lifes like an hourglass glued to the table

Male Offspring #5 was all excited about the C.O.P.S. t shirt he bought me for my birthday on Saturday.

Too bad I wasn't equally as excited by the t. I should have KNOWN Jesus would be involved somehow. Then, to show everybody what a "cool mom" I am, he gave me this bumper stick for my car.

Yeah, I'm sure that will convince people. Like the Rio is leaving my driveway wearing that...

When we were walking Holly after supper Monday night, the police car passed us like five times in the span of 30 minutes.
The last time he passed, I said to Mr. G, "I'm going to the next township supervisors meeting."
He said, "Why?"
I said, "I'm going to ask them why they never hire any attractive police officers in this township."
He said, "The sad thing is I can picture you doing it..."

Last night I got this spam email, "I may not be pretty but at least I ain't got no money..."
I'm failing to see the upside in any of that.

I'm hella jealous. The neighbor has new flower planters in her front yard and I want some. They're exceptionally classy, too.
She took the tires off one of the many rusted cars her latest piece o'ass deposited in the front yard. Then she spray painted them white,
put dirt inside them, and added the finishing touch--PLASTIC FLOWERS. Another super fancy thing she has
at her trailer are wind chimes made of Rolling Rock beer bottles. When the winds get to blowin', we're treated to a
lovely medley of clanging glass tunes. The only downside is that after a violent storm she has to make the wind chimes all over again.
Luckily, a lack of empty beer bottles has never been her problem. Then she took beer cans, cut the tops and bottoms off and flattened them out. She cut the tin into "petals" and put them on sticks in her yard. Presto! Pabst Blue Ribbon flowers! Damn. It's like she's Martha Stewart's white trash twin. That sort of stuff takes a special talent, and I just don't have it. Sigh.

Mr. G said to me last night: "You're cranky when you don't get your sex." Damn skippy.

I love the Everio camcorder commercial by JVC. While a guy is busy pissing with his camcorder, his gf sits down at an outdoor cafe table to wait. Another guy comes along, flirts with her and steals her away. When the guy gets his camera ready, he turns around and she's gone.

I saw the book "Teach Your Dog To Read" online. It sounded interesting so I ordered it. In no time I taught Holly to read using a flashcard system.
Last night we were right in the middle of "Gone With The Wind" and she suddenly got up and left the room. I said, "Holly, what's wrong?"
She came back with a flashcard that said, "I'm not listening to that Southern bitch whine one more minute..."

The other morning I walked into the (in)convenience store before work and there was one of our HOTT COPS in action.
He was standing by the door licking a chocolate ice cream cone. I looked at him and thought, "OMG. How I wish I could rip that damn ice cream cone right out of his hand. I'd swallow that sucker in one bite." (Having accomplished "oral talents" comes in handy some time.)
No, wait. That wasn't what I thought. I thought, "OMG. How I wish he'd lick ME that way. "
Yeah, yeah, that's what I was thinking...

I am so tired of these businesses saying they have to pass on the costs of higher fuel to the consumers.
Who the hell do WE pass OUR higher fuel costs onto?!

Elton John is being a bitch again. He called one of the press a "fuckwit," then said all press people "should be shot." Sure they
should be shot, Elton, until you have a project you want them to pimp. There's only one person who should be shot in that equation,
and that's femgay Elton John.

It comes as no surprise that women who drink a lot of dairy products have more twins. They're chock full of unhealthy hormones. I'm sure the advertising industry will find a way to turn this into a ploy by the dairy industry to get stupid women to drink more (unhealthy) milk. I seriously believe all these hormones in our milk and food are the same reason young girls are "blossoming" so much earlier than they used to.

Last week, Mr. G's dad had an "incident" at the home. He walked into some guy's room and took his stuff. When the guy tried to stop him, Mr. G's dad hit the guy. So what do they do? They DOUBLED his dose of Seroquel. Then they called this week to say he wasn't eating and had lost weight. Three guesses as to why. He's so fucking drugged up he can't even sit up straight and the man's supposed to feed himself? They also said he needed speech therapy --- again three guesses as to why?
Because he's so drugged up he can't even complete a sentence. Speech therapy, my ass. What he needs is a COMPETENT doctor.

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