The Skinny of Fat

When I graduated from high school at 17, I was 5'10" and weighed 99 pounds. Yep, 9-9. I was all knees and elbows, no breasts, no butt, no nothing. People would stop me on the street and ask me why I was doing that to myself. I could eat a whole chocolate cake for breakfast and gain not an ounce. Even my own parents thought I was throwing up after meals. I wasn't, I was just skinny.

Out of high school I went on the Pill and got up to about 130. This was good, I found two bumps on my chest slightly resembling breasts and some hips. Clothes fit me a little better and people stopped watching me eat.

After I finally dumped an abusive boyfriend and found my husband-to-be, I got up to about 160. Wow, I had breasts, real breasts, and my booty was turning into a bubble. I found I had to get some bigger clothes, but it was no bother. I finally looked good in a low cut shirt and had something on the back porch to swing.

Now I am lingering around 175-180. Talk about cleavage! My boobs are so big that people have commented on how big my boobs are. My butt makes itself known. I have hips and thighs and a little pooch on my tummy. I don't freeze in the winter anymore. I have a rounder face.

Some would call me fat. I don't care. Because there is one thing I have come to realize: no matter what size I am, there are men out there who love it! When I was a twig I had guys all over me. When I was 130 I had guys all over me. When I was 160 I had guys all over me. Now, at 175, I have guys all over me. Not the same guys, mind you, but I would have no trouble getting a date if I was single.

Rich men, poor men, good men, bad men, strong men, weak men, smart men, stupid men; no matter how much I weighed, each group was well represented in the men who hit on me. If there was a good-looking, well-off man who ignored me for being fat, there was a also good-looking, well-off man who didn't.

So I got to thinking about it yesterday. The problem women have is they try to please men who aren't good for them. A woman will hook up with a man who likes his women skinny, and if she gains a few pounds and he starts to complain about it, instead of dumping his ass, she'll starve herself or get surgery to please him. Why? Doesn't she realize that she's hooked up with a shallow, materialistic asshole who cares more about his image than their happiness? You can't build a happy future with a man like that. If your man puts you down, calls you fat, and makes you feel bad about yourself, why the hell are you with him? Is that how you want to live? Dump him, go out, and find a man who appreciates who you are, give or take 20 pounds.

A lot of women don't want to give up a man, even if he sucks, because they think having a bad man is better than having no man at all. I blame the mothers out there who teach their daughters this bullshit. Having happiness, self-respect, and love is more important than having pain, abuse, and neglect. A man in the house does not guarantee a secure future. A man does not make a woman whole. Women are whole on their own, having a man should add to their lives, not define them. Finding the right man is more important than finding a man, no matter how long it may take you to find him. Mothers need to teach their daughters to be picky. They need to teach their daughters how to toss out bad apples. They need to teach their daughters that some behavior is not OK.

If a man can not love and respect you for who you are, or even who you're striving to be, then he will never truly love you. Women should not have to change in order to keep a man. Once a man and woman come together, they can change together. Or not at all. It's up to them. But love and relationships shouldn't hurt. You shouldn't cry more than you laugh. No one's perfect, and relationships are hard, they require work. But that work should come from both sides. One person should not dominate the other. One person should not say "I'm sorry" all the time. And here is a really important thing - it doesn't matter how long you've been together - if your man treats you bad, get rid of him.

I'll just climb off my soapbox here. What I mean to say is being a bit overweight is not a crime. I'm not talking about obesity. Becoming so fat that you have to be hauled out of your house with a crane is not good for you. I'm not a size 7 anymore, big deal. I won't grace the covers of Cosmo and Elle, so what. I take care of my heart, do my breast exams, exercise, eat right, and live well.

Biker's Ho! (Or is it Ho Bikers?)

We're getting down to the nitty-gritty here, folks. September is coming up faster than I anticipated, serious training for the MS150 is about to begin. No more riding once or twice a week and once on weekends, we're going to have to push it up to 4 or 5 times a week. I finally got a new pair of maxi-pants, so I don't have to wash my one pair each and every day. The scary part of all this? I'm actually enjoying it.

Yeah, strange, huh? I am looking forward to the MS150. I look forward to the scenery and the challenge. I look forward to coming across the finish line in pain, sucking wind, ready to puke, and having the time of my life. I just need to raise the $200 for donations and I'm good to go. Anyone who wants to help can email barbarian02003@yahoo.com. We have a website I can send you. Enough soliciting.

I read this blog yesterday started by a soldier in Iraq, then picked up by his wife when the soldier was wounded. He's fine, and it's a very touching blog. However, she states that they met the president and she doesn't want to hear anything bad about Bush because she and her husband think he's a swell guy. That whole military mentality of "follow the leader/don't ask questions."* I can respect that, but she's got to remember that if Bush hadn't lied to this entire country, her husband wouldn't have been in Iraq in the first place. Why thank the asshole who sent you into the lion's mouth? I'd like her to go visit some of the wives who have lost their husbands in this war and see if their as Bush-happy as she is.

*My dad is a career military man, I was the typical military brat. I know the military and I have every right to say this.

My father wanted me to join the military the moment I came out of the womb. Not gonna happen. I don't have the personality fit for being in the military. I like to think for myself and don't take orders very well. I'm a Libra, I have to see both sides of any issue. People in the military are trained to see only one. Hey, don't get me wrong, military men and women are a special breed. They have to be touch and brave. They can't give way to their emotions and they have to be sharp as tacks in stressful situations. Their physical fitness is paramount to their jobs. I have a lot of respect for military people, but I don't want to be one. There are a lot of stupid rules in the military, and if your an underling, you have no option but to abide by each and every one. You think it's hard to change laws in the civilian world? Wooo! Try to change something in the military and you'll see what the word "difficult" means.

The main objective in the military is to follow orders. Everyone, from the Privates to the Generals, follow orders. Orders are not questioned. They are not ignored. They are followed to the letter. There are severe punishments for not following orders or for screwing them up. People are thrown in jail for not following orders, and "sorry" ain't gonna cut it. The entire military itself is founded on obedience. I can not live in that type of atmosphere. Blessed be those who can.

I think our troops should be brought home. They should come home to grand parades and ceremonies. They should get permanent discounts anywhere they shop and tax cuts like the rich. I also think they should get an apology from every government official in office for sending them into a nightmare for no good reason (usually while their children stayed home). And Bush should personally kiss the hairy ass of each and every soldier who comes back.

Another Weekend Doing Crap

I was as lazy as lazy can be this weekend. It's the heat and lack of funds. My parents came into town and we had dinner Sat. night. The restaurant we picked was extremely loud, so we really didn't have a chance to talk to each other until afterwards, when we went to my sister's. It was fun.

We had a really good time and I realized, somewhere in between playing Crocodile Smile and having my nephew nearly rip his mother's fingers off, that I miss being around my sister. Our lives really aren't that different. I should make a conscious effort to spend more time with her. My nephew will be starting school this year, so things should get really interesting.

I read about the Unions have a problem. I don't like Unions. In the days that they were formed children were being crushed to death by heavy machinery and men were being forced to work in conditions not fit for rats. The companies were making a fortune off of cheap labor and people were dying on the job at a regular pace. There was no insurance, and the companies could fire anyone for anything with no explanation needed. It was bad. The Union was formed and things got a lot better.

Now, the usefulness of Unions has passed. Now, Unions are full of fat, lazy dogs who want to get paid a lot of money for sitting around on their asses. Oh, not everyone, I know, but c'mon, how many times have you seen a bunch of workers sitting around the water cooler and muttered to yourself, "Must be Union." These days, the Union has become just as ruthlessly corporate as the monsters that spawned them all those years ago. When we had our Grocery Strike a few years ago, the Union came up with a solution just one day before they would have had to start paying out benefits. Coincidence? Unions are just as selfish and self-serving as the next corporate giant.

Now Unions paralyze the workforce. If you want to construct anything, you can't just go out and hire a bunch of honest, hard-working men to do it for you. Oh no, you have to hire Union or else they'll picket your site and smear your name all over the papers. In order for a tradesman to get work, he has to join a Union he doesn't necessarily want to be a part of. How is this helping?

Unions need a big, fat shake-down. They need to be reminded that they were formed to help, not hinder, the workers. The fat, cigar-smoking, whore-screwing CEO's of the Union need to realize that they have become the very thing their forbearers were fighting against.

In other news that pisses me off: the MO smoking ban has been put on the back burner. MO is the #1 smoking state in this country. We smoke more cigarettes than three other states combined. These assholes managed to fuck around long enough to miss the deadline for a vote. Now, this bill has to wait another year. I hope in that year all those fuckers get cancer and die. I hope their major organs turn to goo. I hope they have coughing fits so severe they burst blood vessels in their brains and become vegetables. Die, die, die!

We watched "Suan of the Dead" this weekend, too funny. I recommend it highly. Alissa watched "White Noise". She says to avoid it at all costs. I still want to see "The Chocolate Facotry." I finished reading the latest Harry Potter book but no one else has, I have no one to discuss this with! I think I figured out who "R.A.B." is, but no one cares.

Mamma's, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be...

Guess where my sister took her son today? To jail. She took him to see where all the bad people live. They don't get to go outside and they don't get chocolate mile. Hey, you gotta hit them where it hurts. I think B-Butt is getting the point.

So the Patriot Act got extended. Now we're all fucked. With Bush's rating being at 41%, I guess he wants to mess up this country as much as he possibly can before we boot him out on his ass.

We are broke. We get paid today and we're already broke, that's how poor we are. Car insurance, house payment, home-owners, and medical bills all came due at the same time. There will be no purchases outside of food and gas made for the next two weeks. So of'course, now is the time that I want to go shopping. I despise shopping, I don't do it very often, but knowing I can't makes me want to. Hey, I'm a woman.

It is icky-sticky hot today. I have to walk across campus for lunch and I am seriously considering starving. I used to not sweat very much, but since I started drinking those 8 glasses of water a day and exercising regularly, I burst out in condensation the moment I step outside. Ugh. Aside from seeing my parents this weekend, my plans are to stay inside. I have a lot of painting and purse making to do.

The Baby Bandits

Rode 10 miles today. I thought I would do a lot worse at it was nearly 85 degrees at 5:30 in the AM! I hate heat. I am one of those freaks who likes winter. I like being cold. I like putting on the big fluffy sweater and fuzzy socks and curling up with my cat. Hot apple cider, hot cinnamon buns, the smell of a wood fire, I like it all. I do not like being hot in the I'm-naked-and-I'm-standing-in-front-of the-open-fridge-and-I'm-STILL-HOT hot. And the humidity, oh Lord, there isn't anything I can do but keep the hair in braids and pray for an early fall.

Well, well, well, seems little Mr. B-Butt has gotten himself into a world of hurt now. My sister found he has been breaking into cars with two of his little buddies. (C'mon, sis, you KNEW I was going to talk about it). Not even in school yet and already a hoodlum. Ohhhhh, did the shit hit the fan! I would bet anything my nephew has never shaken in his boots quite like that before. Nasty, nasty temper, my sister has. Embarrass her in front of the neighbors and she can get downright evil. Do they have Brat Camp for toddlers?

He's never going to live this one down. This will be brought up at Thanksgivings, Christmases, and birthday's to come. Any time he gets in trouble, the break-into-cars card will be played. There is no defense against the break-into-cars card. When I was a baby I broke a set of angel's my mother had and I still hear about it. Yeah, well, I may have broken a few ornaments, but at least I NEVER BROKE INTO CARS, bwa-ha-ha!

Looks like my sister is going to have to sit B-Butt down and have a serious talk about having to "belong." **AMENDMENT: She has**We all did stupid things when we were young because we wanted to prove ourselves or have people like us. Seems these days the kids get younger while the acts get stupider and more dangerous. Knowing the difference between right and wrong is wonderful, but being able to stand up for yourself when faced with a right and wrong decision takes courage. I hope when school starts B-Butt can find a nice circle of friends that won't land him in prison.

Anyway, I'm sure my nephew is looking forward to being away from home. My parent's are coming into town this weekend to take him on a little vacation. Nothing like spending a weekend with one's grandparents to take away the sting of wrong-doing. Little does he know that once my mother sinks her teeth into something, she does not let up. Having his mother force him to apologize to all the neighbors was just a good start.

Another day, Another $.01

Good Lord, y'all.

The world's gone crazy, people are wearing flip-flops to the White House. Personally, I have found flip-flops to be tacky at any occasion not having to do with a shower or a pool. C'mon, guys, feet are ugly. You got bulbous toes, banana toes, corns, bunions, yellow toenails...who wants to see that? It doesn't matter how many rhinestones you glue on, they're still bad fashion. I saw a girl on campus with a beautiful black dress on. Her hair and make-up were gorgeous. Then there, on her feet, were flip-flops with big, black flowers glued onto them. Ugly, just plain ugly. Anyone wearing flip-flops to a formal occasion should be turned away at the door.

Oh, and you ignoramus who wear socks with your flip-flops, go back and drown in the shallow gene pool from whence you came.

When I think of flip-flops I see a 350 pound woman stretching out an Elvis T-shirt with curlers in her hair, a cigarette in her mouth, two snot-nosed kids at her side, and a big rose tattoo distorted across her right breast.

Enough. I came to work today wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Hey, it's summer. Anyway, I'm not looking my best. When I get to work I realize that I have a lunch with the PR chick at the Radisson Hotel. Shit! Should I fly home and change clothes, go out and buy new ones, cancel? I don't even have earrings on. So I'm sitting in my office in a panic when I look at my calendar. It's next Wednesday. Duh!

The Saga Continues

Alissa went home last night. She came home to a spotless house, a cooked meal, a very attentive boyfriend, and a happy kid. Seems things are looking up.

I, being a cynical, untrusting, grudge-holding wench, will reserve judgment until it appears this behavior will be a continued occurrence. It's so easy for us to slip back into our old behaviors. I should know, it took my husband forever to break me of some of my bad habits. I do hope that this is a turning point in Alissa's relationship, she deserves to be treated like a Queen.

My sister hooked up with a guy I wasn't very fond of, but over time he has proven to be a pretty good match. He's a good guy. I think he is good to L and a good father for her son. He is in no way my type, but I'm not my sister. It's good to see that she is finally happy. She had a lot of--Oh, son of a bitch! I just ran over my own toe with my own chair. Christ almighty does that sting...hold on...doing pain dance...ok, much better now. Anyway, my sister has hooked up with some A-1 class losers. Hey, we all have them in our past. There are a few men in my past I'd love to erase. So when she first met M I was very leery, my sister has a bad habit of falling hard, fast. For the first few years it was a bit rocky. Y'all know I'm the type who does not forgive. There ain't no three strikes, you get one strike and two chances to perform a miracle. But M is a pretty good guy. Big. A whiz with computers.

I have another friend, we'll call him G, who met, courted, and married a girl in less than a year. I'm still holding out on that one. I don't know "I", his wife, very well. "I" was raised in a very messed-up household. "I" and G are kind of from different places. But, G is happier than I've ever seen him, so "I" must be doing something right. Maybe it's because she's too quiet. She doesn't cuss, and that's just not natural. I don't think she drinks very much, either, and she's from the South!

I'm halfway through Harry Potter. I'm not going to spoil anything for anybody, but Harry is a long way from that gangly, comical boy he was in the first book.

Seek and Destroy

Saturday afternoon there is a knock on our door. My very best friend, Alissa, is standing there with the clothes on her back, her purse, and tears. Seems the butt-wheeming asshole jerk-faced piece of shit she lives with, M, kicked her out.

Some facts:
* the house they live in belongs to M
* the land they live on belongs to M's family
* M's mom and dad live on the property
* M and Alissa have a 2 year-old, AJ

M is a selfish, abusive, narcissistic, domineering, spoiled, stupid brat. He's 10 year's younger than Alissa and has the maturity level of a five year-old. What Alissa sees in him I will never know. She works hard at trying to make their relationship work and because of this she has lost pieces of herself. I fear she will never get them back. But finally, FINALLY, on Saturday she says she's tired of it all. She's tired of everything being her fault, of his abuse, and of the way he treats her. Something needs to change.

Yes, it does, but it won't be M.

Why should he change? He has everything he wants. His mommy coddles and spoils him, he doesn't have to pay for his home or the land, he has a girlfriend who does absolutely everything for him, including take the blame for everything that happens in his life. He doesn't take care of the house or his kid, he doesn't clean or do laundry or pay bills or cook food, he drinks like a fish, he bosses his girlfriend around and she puts up with it. Why would he go changing and get rid of a sweet deal like that?

Who is there to rub his nose in his big, steaming piles of shit? No one. Who stands up to him and tells him to stuff it when he's acting like a jerk? No one. Who asks him if he wants his diaper changed when he's acting like a baby? No one.

A man will only change if he wants to. If a man does not want to change, he will not. That's just the way it is. So again I ask, why should M change? He's got a good life. Yeah, he has to put up with the Missus bitching every once in a while, but that's a small price to pay for having a live-in slave.

Alissa wants her son to have a father. No matter what happens, AJ will always have a father. Just because they may not live in the same place does not mean that M won't be a part of AJ's life. And if M doesn't come around, then doesn't that mean he wasn't father material in the first place? If a man wants to be a father, there isn't anything that's going to stop him. Alissa should not have to give up her happiness in order for her son to have two parents.

Alissa loves him. It's glaringly obvious that M does not love her. If he did, how could he treat her this way? How could he kick the mother of his child out of her own house if he loved her so much? M's idea of love is "Gimme, gimme, gimme!" He's been trained by his mother that love equals control. The umbilical between those two hasn't been cut yet, and it's just one more problem Alissa has to face.

Simply put, M does not deserve her.

She wants to work things out. WHY? I fear for Alissa, I really do. I fear how much of her spirit is going to be killed in addition to how much has been killed off already? I fear for her heart, how many times can it be broken before enough is enough? I fear for her happiness, will she give it up for a fantasy that will never become reality? I fear for her life, because that bastard will kill her one day, and she'll be a walking zombie from then on. Inside I'm screaming, "What are you doing? Leave him, I beg you. Save yourself and your son and get the hell away from him!"

But, all I can do is treat her with the respect that she deserves, tell her she is an extraordinary woman, give her my love, and have hope that one day she will wake up and walk out. I stamp down my anger and keep my murderous fantasies to myself. I cry into my pillow and pray that she will be safe. It breaks my heart to see her in such pain, and the seething rage I have for M is thick, black, and greasy. But I will never leave her side, because she was there for me in my darkest hours. She can always count on me because that's what being a best friend is all about.

Mother's Children

I watched a show last night called "Brat Camp". It was on Wednesday night but I Tivoed it. If you don't know what it's about, 9 bad, bad kids are sent to the desert for 60 days to cure them of their issues. Most of them are angry, on drugs, having sex, drinking, and treating their parents like crap. In the beginning they interview the parents on their children's behavior and show short clips of said kids in action. Despite their many differences, I noticed a common theme with all these kids.

They were all spoiled.

This concerns me personally as in about 10 years I fear my nephew will need to go to a camp like this. I'll call him B-Butt. B-Butt is spoiled beyond belief. Now, I can just hear my mother and sister screaming "No, he's not!" Yes, he is.

The reason I know he's spoiled is this: my mother and sister will not tolerate the same behavior from other children. Example: we went out to eat and B-Butt took maybe four bites of his food, leaving an whole plate of chicken and french fries to go to waste. Behind our table was a man and his two little girls. After their meal they ordered ice cream and neither girl finished it. When we were walking out, my mother pointed to their table and said, "Look at that. Those girls didn't even finish their ice cream. What a waste of food."
"Hello?" I said. "Your grandson just wasted a whole lot more than that." My mother looked at me in shock, as if that had never occurred to her.

If we see badly behaved children, my mother and sister will be the first to comment. Things like "Some parents should know how to control their children," and "I'd be embarrassed if my children acted that way." "I blame the parents." This is my favorite, "I never let you girls act that way." Yes, but your grandson acts that way. We'll see what happens...

On "Brat Camp", the parents were all teary eyed and wrung out. "We just don't know what to do! We try to talk to them, we try to reason with them, we try to punish them, but nothing works." You don't try to punish your children, you either punish them or you don't. One couple was so out of their heads with worry, yet when their daughter asked for money, they still gave it to her. They had the audacity to say, "We don't want her on drugs, but what can we do?" STOP GIVING HER MONEY! In every situation, the parents sat around powerless and let their children walk all over them. These children would yell and curse at their parents, and the parents would just stand there. "Don't you know how much you hurt me?" one mother whines. "I don't care," replies her kid. And why should he? The kid was wearing about $156 worth of trendy clothes, listening to an iPod, standing in his room full of computers, phone, Playstation, TV, and more expensive clothes. Refresh my memory on how you're trying to punish this kid?

I imagine it started from birth. What none of them could understand is that their parenting skills are what got their kid that way in the first place. (I understand that outside forces can influence a child, but if a child has a solid home base, those influences can be dealt with). Being a push-over does not make for a good parent. Giving a kid everything his heart desires does not make him learn. Bribing a kid with toys, money, and goodies does not mean he's growing up. If you don't make your kid pick up his toys when he's young, how are you going to keep him off drugs later down the road. If he won't listen to you now, why should he listen to you later? Kids have a tendency to grow up. When they are teenagers it's too late to try and establish boundaries when you didn't do it earlier.

So they screwed up their kid or, hey, maybe he was just a bad apple. Instead of dealing with it themselves, they send the kid off to some desert camp so a stranger can be a hard-ass and turn their kid around. I admire what this camp does, and some kids NEED to be there, but it seems to me some of these parents are being a bit lazy.

My sister and mother will remind me, "You don't have any kids." True, but I don't have to have kids to understand the fundamentals of raising them. Children need rules, boundaries, limits, and discipline. Being a parent is a HARD job. You have to be both good cop and bad cop. You have to dole out the punishment, but you also get to dole out the rewards. Rewarding children for bad behavior (i.e. giving them cookies when they won't eat their dinner) confuses them. They then think they can get away with this behavior all the time. As a parent, you need to be CONSISTENT. If you say "Do that and (insert) will happen," you have to mean it. If you threaten them and they call you on it, you have to carry out your threat. If you set up rules and stick to them, children will learn just how far they can push you. They will also learn what rules are. If there are no rules in the home, then the outside world is going to be a hard, confusing place. If a kid's own parents don't mean what they say, why should they believe anyone else does? If their parents don't do what they say they will, how can a child be expected to believe anyone else?

Here's the kicker: If a child knows the rules, if there are staunchly set limits, then they can live happily and safely within those boundaries. Kids who know the rules and know what happens when they break those rules aren't in constant need of supervision. Thus, they are not in constant need of punishment, nagging, and worry. See how that works?

One thing that a lot of parents desperately need to understand is that their actions as a parent influence their children's lives. A kid shouldn't have to go to school to learn what rules and limits mean. A kid shouldn't have to learn about social behavior from their friends. A kid shouldn't have to learn life's lessons the hard way because their parents didn't have the balls to teach the lessons themselves. Parents need to listen just as much as they talk. A child is a developing adult. They deserve respect and understanding, too. Have I mentioned that being a parent is a hard job? It's so easy to screw up your kids.

In the life span of a human being, a parents job is relatively short lived. There is a small amount of time a parent has to turn their offspring into decent people. A parent's job is a crash-course in living. There are the basics - tie your shoes, poop in the potty, eat with a fork - but there are also the electives - be nice to people, have honor, have pride, know when to fight and know when to run, know how to treat other people with respect, learn how to stand up for yourself, learn about responsibility, learn how to have fun, learn how to stay alive, get an education, find love, mend a broken heart, have class, have compassion, recognize evil, work hard, be happy with who you are, help others, learn humility, don't interrupt, invest your money, take care of your pets, don't cheat on your significant other, be tolerant, don't judge, accept people for who they are, believe in something, don't fear change, have courage in hard times, know when to ask for help, play sports, enjoy life, be creative, recognize injustice, don't hit people, get a hobby, stay in shape, take blame for your own mistakes, forgive others for their's, don't be selfish, don't be a fool, travel, on and on and on.

The best way to teach these things is to lead by example. Children don't care what you say, it's what you do that matters. I hope the parents of "Brat Camp" learn that as much as their children.

Dukes of Haggard

What did they do to the "Dukes of Hazzard?" I watched that show religiously as a child and when I saw the movie trailer for the 2005 version, I nearly wept. Bo and Luke Duke were funny, sexy trouble makers, but they also had class. They were laid back about their antics, not all up in your face. So who do they cast? Jonny "Stick a firecracker up my ass and papercut my testicles" Knox and Stiffler? Stiffler! This guy makes a mug even when he's sleeping. Just looking at them lowers the IQ of the Duke brothers before they even open their mouths.

And Daisy Duke was tough first, sexy second. And Brunette. Not some sleazy blonde sex-kitten who slings her boobs in everyone's face wearing bikini tops and making stupid comments. Daisy was the smartest of the bunch, remember? Casting Jessica Simpson is like, and I quote, "turning Lucille Ball into a crackhead." The original Cooter said that in his review of this atrocious movie.

And Boss Hogg? Burt Reynolds is 1) not fat, 2) not sleazy, and 3) not fat! Boss Hogg is fat, that's why the name worked so well...because he looked like a Hogg. Dumbasses! The same person who cast this movie must have cast all those American Pie movies. In fact, I bet the writer's came from that franchise as well. The Dukes go to a sorority? Since when did Hazzard get a University?

Despite what they are trying to protray, the Duke's were not lusty "Players". They had women throwing themselves at them, they didn't need to hunt it down. They were too busy trying to save the farm and Uncle Jesse. God, this movie is going to suck so badly. If you're not a 14 year-old boy anxious to see Jessica Simpson tits for two hours, skip it. Or at least wait for it to come out on HBO. Paying to see this would be a little bit more than the law would allow.

Bad, Bad Thing

If someone lies to you and hurt your feelings, are you obligated to get them a birthday card?

Long story short, my sister-in-law K hurt my feelings really badly by lying to me. I didn't get her a birthday card, but I did get one for her twin, J. Now K's hurt. Should I care? I didn't blight K on purpose, J was in town and K wasn't. Then she was. No card. Do I care?

I just got dumped by my husband. He was going to take me out to lunch, but all of his co-workers vacated the premises, leaving him alone to mind the store. So I get dinner instead. Yeah! I like dinner better, I can drink at dinner. Since I had a meeting this afternoon, I'm all dressed up, too. You know what that means? I get a fancy dinner, not just a burger.

Did you ever misinterpret song lyrics? That Gwen Stefani song Hollar Back Girl has inspired a lot of wrong lyrics. Ain't no Harlem black girl, Ain't no Olivette girl (for you St. Louisans). I've also heard: Little peas and carrots - i.e. Little things that kill by Bush; There's a bathroom on the right - i.e. There's a bad moon out tonight by CCR; Big 'ol Jed had a lighter - i.e. Oh, big 'ol jet airliner by Steve Miller Band; and Caught in a bog - i.e. Call me a dog by Temple of the Dog. Very funny.

Well...Duh!

A report in British Medical Magazine states that drivers who talk on the phone while driving are four times more likely to crash, some seriously enough to injure themselves or others, compared to those who don't talk and drive.

Tell us something we don't know.

How many times have you been close to someone who swerves, brakes, turns, or cuts you off without even realizing it because finding out what their husband's want for dinner is just soooo important? Next they'll release a study that states only stupid morons can't talk on the phone and drive. Again, money wasted on a study that confirms what society already knows.

I am a firm believer that if you cause an accident while talking on the phone, a mandatory charge of reckless endangerment should ensue. No excuses. If you're to uncoordinated to talk and drive, stay off the phone. And what is so damn important anyway? Remember the old days when business transactions and morning conversations took place in the office? Seriously, what does a wet-haired blonde wearing a torn T-shirt driving a beat up Pinto at 7:30 in the morning really have to talk about?

It's bad enough one can't go to the grocery store without being surrounded by one-sided conversations. Or trying to watch a movie while the dip-shit in front of you text messages all their friends. Or eat in a restaurant while the electronic bird chirps go off every five minutes. Cell phones are such a nuisance.

Now we have to worry that some narcissistic soccer mom is going to run us over because she just has to tell her best friend that Timmy made a poopy in his potty for the first time.

Stay off the damn phone and just drive already.

Ok, I'll say it, You're just Stupid

We as a race are so ignorant. I'm talking about humans. I'm talking to those of you who spend so much time and energy hating gay people. Why? What's it to you who people sleep with? Who we sleep with does not define us as people.

"We don't want gays in the military," you whine. Oh yeah? So if you were in Iraq bogged down in a blown-out building with insurgent fire pinning you down and bombs going off closer and closer to your location, are you really going to be thinking about your dick? No. Let me tell you something, if I was in that situation I could be surrounded by a platoon of men who sleep with farm animals and I wouldn't care. I just want a lot of armed men on MY side.

"Being gay is a sin against God," you moan. If that's the case, then shouldn't God be pissed off about it and not you? When a gay person dies they have to meet their maker just like you do. They'll have to account for being gay. You'll have to account for being a hypocritical, bigoted asshole. Be concerned with you.

"Gay people shouldn't raise children," you say. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't last summer's news casts full of stories about straight, Catholic priests molesting children? LOTS of straight, Catholic priests molesting children. Seems you need to keep a closer eye on those you force your own children to spend time with. Perhaps if those priests could have come out in a loving, understanding atmosphere and not be surrounded by hatred, they wouldn't need to molest your children.

If you have a heart attack and go to the hospital, will you be more concerned that the heart surgeon whose about to open your chest cavity knows what he's doing, or who he sleeps with?

I think the most shocking thing for gay-haters to face is that openly gay people are the least of their worries. They could have a twice convicted child molester living next door to them and never know it. They could work every day with a terrorist supporter. Their children might grow up to be strippers and whores. They could take a vacation and be blown to bits on a bus. They could eat a hamburger infected with some unknown, incurable virus. They could become paralyzed and, thanks to an ignorant government, a possible cure could be poured down the drain. An openly gay person is just trying to live their life. If that's a sin, than I'm a sinner, too.

Leave gay people alone and stop being so damn stupid.

Thanks, Now My Ears are Bleeding

I heard a song on the radio today that made my eyes roll to the back of my head. Y'know, there is just no original music today. Some time ago this artist, I forget his name, released a song called "The Remedy." I didn't think it was that great of a song, but the radio station here in St. Louis played it all damn day. This kid sang it at every sporting event he could book, and it was used for countless TV spots. Thankfully, it died out as quickly as it blew up.

So he's released his second hit, a little ditty called "Word Play," that is absolutely unbelievable. The lyrics tell a little story something like this:

"Hi, I had a one hit wonder. My manager told me the revenue from that hit is running out, so I quickly wrote this song, which sounds just like the last one, only I changed to words to say how great I am for writing the first song to begin with. Oh, and I sing really fast, just like I did on 'The Remedy,' so that's what makes me so special. I'm great, here's the new song, and oh, I'm great."

This is the worst song I think I have ever heard. What nerve, to sing about how great he is because he had a one-hit wonder. The Beatles were great. The Rolling Stones were great. Tina Turner is great. Henry Rollins is great. This kid is a big steaming pile o' crap.

Which makes me think that there hasn't been anything original on the radio since 1977. Sure, there have been a few flashes in the pan, but most of today's bands suck. They re-make other people's songs and then think, foolishly, that they are rock stars. No, dear, originality and talent make you a rock star, not being a two-bit copycat with ProTools. I'm not even going to get started on the boy-bands.

And it used to be you went to a record store and found employees with musical knowledge that rivals that of a deity. Now the children who work these stores only care about Brittany Spear's baby and what brand of underwear Nelly likes. Half of them think the Velvet Underground is a metaphor for anal sex.

I can't wait to get my satellite radio installed, then I won't have to listen to this crap anymore.

They Can DO That?

Minnesota just shut down its government. 9,000 people are out of jobs and highway rest stops will be unattended through the July 4th weekend. Gross! Those restrooms smell bad enough with a crew of three cleaning constantly, just imagine the stank come Monday.

Does this include police? If so, Minnesota is about to become the biggest looting spree on record. How can a government shut down? Seriously, how? They claim its because of their spending plan deadline. I think it's a terrorist plan to implement Al Qaida boot camps on American soil. And our government is probably in on it. Oh, or Bush's Saudi family probably found oil and wants there to be no "petty complications" like legislature to stop them from drilling it. How safe can we American's feel if our entire states government can call in quits, huh?

I saw a big ass spider in the basement last night. Actually, it saw me first, because when it jumped out at me I was completely caught by surprise. It was big and brownish, my first thought was BROWN RECLUSE. My second thought was, "You ain't gettin me!" I grabbed the only thing available, the pour cup from my laundry detergent. I just started chopping, by the time I was done there was nothing left but juice. The whole time I was emitting this high pitch squeal I didn't know I was capable of making. There were bats going crazy all over the state of Missouri. I threw the cup away and left it's mutilated corpse there as a warning to any other spiders who might be thinking about hanging out by the washing machine.

Which reminds me of a time when a bat got into our house. Okay, this takes some back story. My husband, (boyfriend at that time,) broke his leg. Well, he had it broken for him during a softball game. He needed surgery for it, and that night he was in the hospital recovering. I had worked all day, gone to see him, and got home around 10pm. I wanted a cold drink and a hot bath, then bed. In that order. We were renting a house at the time that was shaped like a big H. The middle of the H was the hallway, with the living room on one side and the kitchen, bedroom being on the other. I got my drink, sat down to veg in front of the TV. Me, in my underwear, and the cat, sitting in the middle of the floor, having a good head scratching session when this black thing starts flapping around the living room.

My cat is a sweet, gentle boy. He rarely gets excited unless its feeding time, and even then he just meows a lot. He loves lovin' and that's all he loves. This cat turned into a freaking tornado, jumping and hissing and knocking things over. I've never seen him react to a bird this way. That's when I got a closer look at the thing and realized it didn't have any feathers. Bat.

Rabies.

I wrestled my cat to the floor and darted towards the bedroom, hurled him in and slammed the door shut. I grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen sink and watched, through the hallway, this black blob zoom back and forth. What was I going to do? Then it stopped. Shit. I called 911 and they told me an animal control agent would be out there shortly. My cat is throwing himself at the door, hissing like a cobra and trying to scratch his way through the wood. I grabbed the broom, stopped by the bathroom to get a bigger towel, put on my sunglasses, and crept into the living room on my knees like a Monty Python reject. I couldn't see the bat anywhere. I scooted around looking at everything but couldn't see it. I finally had to get the courage to stand up. He wasn't by the TV, wasn't hiding in any of the furniture. There weren't enough knick-knacks for him to hide behind. I looked everywhere and couldn't find it. It was winter and the windows were closed, where the hell was it?

I looked up at the ceiling to see if a magical hole had appeared when I saw two little clawed paws protruding from one of the fan blades on the ceiling fan. I got up on the couch and looked again, sure enough, there he was, flattened out on the fan like road kill. I wasn't taking my eyes off him, and he wasn't taking his...sonar, I guess, off me. That's how the animal control agent found us. Him holding onto the fan blade, me standing on the couch in my underwear with sunglasses, a blue towel over my head, and a broom being held like a weapon.

The AC agent was Fat Albert's second cousin. He had to have weighed 400 pounds and stood all of 5'3". He had a net and a tuperware container, and that was all. Shit, I could have done that. I jumped off the couch and pointed out where the bat was. He tried to scoot his net over the fan blade, but the bat was having none of that. He started flying around again. I hit the deck. Fat Albert's cousin started running around the room after it, not a pretty sight. My few knick-knacks went flying. The lamp fell over. My cat picked up his assault on the bedroom door.

Finally, Fat Albert caught the bat and put him in the tupperware container. It screamed. I filled out some paperwork and bid farewell to my hero, then looked around my wrecked living room. All it needed was an overturned couch and a drunken rock star passed out in the corner. I let the cat out, dabbed neosporin on the scratches he gave me, stripped, and just went to bed.

No one was going to beleive this.