Let's Talk About Dumbasses

Our neighbor's in Illinois have suspended four pharmacists because they refuse to hand out emergency contraception because it "leads to abortion." Now, these same pharmacists DO hand out birth control with no issues whatsoever. They just feel emergency contraception brings about the Devil's work.

Let me get one thing straight: in order for an abortion to occur, there needs to be an egg fertilized by a sperm in the process of making a human. Right? Okay, so if emergency contraception stops a sperm from fertilizing an egg, there is no conception. Thus, there is nothing to abort, right? Am I the only one who gets this?

essentially, emergency contraception is the same thing as birth control, only it's a much higher dose. If you have no issues with birth control, why do you have issues with emergency contraception? Oh, right, you've been told by the church that emergency contraception is bad, therefore your basing your opinion on fantasy instead of fact. How silly of me not to understand.

These conservative Christians are going to find themselves on the wrong end of pointy spears if they keep insisting that society live by their rules and their rules alone. Emergency contraception is rarely prescribed to a girl because she said yes when she should have said no. Doctors are not handing these things out like candy on Halloween. There is usually a very good reason, most involving rape. If I was a rape victim being judged and looked down upon by a pharmacist, I'd jump over the counter and kick him in the balls. I think I already covered this once before. Anyway, if you feel it's your duty to tell other people how to live their lives, become a preacher. Or a politician. Or have 17 children and start your own holy-rolling army. Oh, wait, that's already been done...

Christmas

We're having Christmas in St. Louis this year, my mom and dad are coming up to celebrate with us. Christmas Eve we'll be at my house, Christmas Day we will be at my sister's. It's easier to spread toys from one end of the house to the other if you don't have to pack them in a car. I'm serving eggnog and I may cook something. I say "may."

Let me tell you about the last time Christmas was spent in St. Louis. My nephew had just been born and my sister was living in a shitty-ass apartment. Hubby and I were living in our first real house. We rented, but it wasn't a shitty-ass apartment, so we decided to host Christmas. I was looking forward to it. I baked, I decorated, I got a real tree and made the ornaments. Man, it was going to be great.

Mom and Dad came into town and we all got red pajamas on Christmas Eve. (It's an old tradition, we get new jammies the night before, then wear them to open gifts on Christmas day). I got up early and started the coffee, took out the carefully prepared breakfast items and turned on the stove. If I timed it just right, the food would be close to done by the time the family arrived. I have my little cup of coffee and I'm putting the biscuits in the oven...the cold oven.

My oven broke on Christmas morning.

No problem, there's still plenty of things we can make using the burners. Unfortunately, we didn't have much of it. Mom, Dad, Sis, and BButt arrive and we all laugh at the problem. Ha, ha, ha. "No matter," my mother says, "We'll just get straight to the presents."

Fine with me.

In my family we open presents one at a time so everyone can see what each other got/gave. I got the cutest pair of kitty-slippers, and it was even cuter when our cat attacked them in a fit of jealousy. Dad liked the coat we got him, BButt didn't scream and cry, things were going great. I thought we'd all relax for a while then see if we could find an open restaurant for lunch. It had snowed, maybe we could go outside and play with BButt for a while, I mean after all, this was his first Christmas. His first snow. We were all here, one big, happy family.

(Insert long, horrible record scratch here.)

The last present had barely been opened when my mom started putting on her coat and my dad started packing the car. Oh, didn't they tell me? They were all going to Kentucky to spend Christmas with Mamaw and Papaw. Thanks for the gifts, sorry about the stove, bye now! They left so quickly little pieces of wrapping paper were left floating in the air. Merry Fucking Family Christmas.

I threw away the uneaten food, cleaned my house, burned my tree, and vowed to never have Christmas in my home again. That was almost six years ago and things have changed since then, but the past can't be changed and some wounds go deep. I'll keep you posted.

How I Love Turkey, Let Me Count the Ways

Let's see, Turkey Tetrazinni, Turkey Pot-Pie, Turkey and Cheese omelet, Turkey Chili, Turkey Noodle Soup, and the big, ol' Turkey Sandwich. Yep...I'm done with turkey. Bring on the ham.

I had a blast this weekend. Friday night my best friend had a bonfire to celebrate the arrival of her real mother (adopted). Everything was fun and games until they tied a recliner to a tractor and started pulling people around. Needless to say, the recliner became kindling and those who rode it were too drunk to feel any pain. Saturday I had an audition for a Beer Pong mocumentary. I got the part of the ball-busting, take no shit referee, but I didn't take it because of scheduling conflicts. They wanted me to spend every Sunday in a smoke-filled bar waiting around for something to happen and that just didn't fit into my schedule. Sunday I watched the Ram miracle unfold and was soooo very glad we didn't lose to the Texans. Okay, I took a nap and slept through the whole thing, but my husband said it was great.

It's hard to be back at work, but I'm managing. My co-workers hate me because I have all my Christmas shopping done. Sorry, I'm not a procrastinator. I usually avoid Black Friday, but this year I ventured out and it wasn't too bad. I guess the trick was going at 11:30am. The crazy bitches who kill people over DVD players had already swept through, and everyone else was at lunch. Everyone is covered except for my father-in-law. Hubby can take care of his own dad.

Ta.

Beer, Football, and Turkey

Happy Holidays, Y'all. Don't eat to little or bitch too much. Ta.

Let's get something straight

Just because you have a kid does NOT mean the world owes you anything. Okay, you got that? Just because you squirted out two children does not mean you can go into a restaurant or store and let those two shits run around screaming and WE, the rest of society, has to put up with it. Don't get insulted when someone asks you to control your children. They're yours, control them.

You don't get any special privleges because you are a parent. You don't. If you, as an adult, were acting like a brat, you would be stared at, commented on, and probably asked to leave. Just because your kid is acting stupid does not mean he/she is immune to discipline. Don't blame other people for reacting to your spoiled child. Perhaps if you weren't so lazy about the child rearing in the first place you wouldn't find yourself in this situation.

People get insulted when businesses ask patrons to control their children or leave. How conceited is that? Your kid is interrupting countless other people's peace, but that's okay, right? Because it's a kid. WRONG! It's not okay, EVER. It's not tolerated and dealt with because you're a mommy. We hate you anyway, and we hate your kids even more.

It all boils down to this: If you can't teach your children to behave in public, keep them home. It's your job, and if you've failed at it, don't get all huffy when the rest of us don't want to put up with you and your devil's spawn.

Wine, Wine, Wine, Wine

We had a blast on Saturday! The weather was gorgeous and the crowd wasn't that bad. We drove to Hermann, MO, and found the inky-dinky visitor center to get our tickets. Each winery was featuring a certain food, then serving a signature wine to go with it. After that, you could immerse yourself in the regular wine tasting room. We got our tickets and proceeded to drink out way back to St. Louis.

The best was Stone Hill Winery, they served a dessert thingy with a cream sherry to die for. The worst wine was at Hermanof. They served turkey with a cherry sauce, which was good. But the wine tasted like rancid meat mixed with puke.

Hubby told me not to buy that much wine, I ended up with four bottles. Hey, don't tell an intoxicated woman not to shop. Six wineries, four bottles, I think I restrained myself pretty well. I wasn't going to buy the Jazz Berry, but then the guy gave us chocolate. It was over then, tasted like a chocolate covered cherry.

It was nice to have a day with two strong, entertaining women who aren't afraid to have a good time, or spend all their time worrying about what other people think or how they are presenting themselves to society. We were in our own little world and it was gooooood. The next day I had a mysterious calf injury and my sister hurt her hip. Fun was had by all.

In February they are doing the Chocolate Lovers Wine Trail. Yeah, baby!!!

Hubby and I saw Harry Potter on the big ol' IMAX screen. Worth it. The movie was very good, I enjoyed the humor as well as the action scenes. For those of you who have read the book, you know there is A LOT of stuff going on in that book. Putting it all on screen would have been quite an undertaking. The stuff they left out didn't affect the story that much. It was done very well. I couldn't help it, I cried when (don't want to ruin it) died. Just a little, just a tear or twelve. The actor who played Mad Eye Moony did an excellent job.

Back to the grindstone, I have to shove five days worth of work into three.

Spinning

I went to the spin class after all and I'm glad I did. It was good to exercise and I saw a few people I don't get to see very often. Mostly, hubby's co-workers and some of his business acquaintances. The business acquaintances give me the willies. I'm not sure why, but I always feel uncomfortable around some of those guys. One guy, who's really small and that freaks me out to begin with, never laughs or smiles. Last night I said hello and he stared at me like I was a talking biscuit.

Why do people do that? Jesus, move your face, blink your eyes, let me know you're alive. I have a complex about some of these people to begin with because they are very wealthy and live a totally different lifestyle. It's intimidating to have a conversation about which country you just vacationed in with a group of people who do it every three months when you're broke as hell and don't know when you'll leave your home state, much less the country. I always feel that they are looking down on me. Now, mind you, they don't do anything to make me feel this way, I just do. I get a very distinct Us/Them feeling when I'm around some of these people.

The Nazi bitch that taught the class got on my nerves. Because of the loud music and the conversations going on around me, I couldn't hear what she was saying. It was the tone of her voice, that "I'm going to baby you because you're too ignorant to figure this out on your own" tone.

"Okay, twenty seconds and we'll start climbing that hill. Are you ready? Here it comes! Get ready...any minute now. Okay, go, go, go, go, go, go!"

Kiss my, kiss my, kiss my ass. I hate people who are perky when they sweat. I want another out-of-breath, evil look throwing, name-calling female right beside me so we can suffer together.

This Sat. I'm going to a wine tasting gig with Alissa and my sister. We were going to have a fourth woman join us, but the skanky bitch cancelled. Why? Because her husband has some electrical work to do. Add one more item to the "Lame-ass Excuse" list, please. If your husband is that much of a klutz, DON'T LET HIM TOUCH ELECTRICITY! I mean, she knew this was coming, he can't do his work on, oh, Sunday? Whatever, not my problem. I mean, on one hand she had a full day of wine tasting, cheese eating, and shopping, on the other staying home and watching her husband work. Ladies, am I the only one flabbergasted by her choice?

I know it's probably immature, and maybe a bit judgmental, but I'll never invite that woman to anything ever again. Sorry, Barbarian don't do three strikes. One strike and you're out. I have a history of getting my feelings hurt when I try to be nice and I'm not going to do it again. You don't want to spend time with me, fine. Stay the hell away.

Have a good weekend.

All The Rivers Run

I have a pen-pal. He's in prison. When he was 16 he killed a boy. I started writing him about 3 1/2 years ago and in that time we wrote a book. Well, he wrote it and I helped edit and give feedback. His mother took over and now it's finally been published!

Patrick is a good guy. He did something terrible and he knows it. Patrick is my friend and I couldn't be prouder. More proud? Patrick is my friend and hot-diggity-dog, the boy done good.

Anyway, all proceeds from the sale of this book go into a charity fund started by Patrick. He can't collect any money from his story (convicts can not profit from their crimes), so he's giving it all away with the help of his family.

I'm not good at soliciting, so please, go buy the book. It's a good story. If you are a parent you need to read this. If you are a kid in a disfunctional family, you need to read this. If you ever wondered what could drive a kid to kill, you need to read this. Hell, ALL YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE NEED TO READ THIS.

Thank you.

W-w-who Ordered This Damn Cold?

What happened to Fall? I turned my back for a weekend and now it's freaking Winter. It's noon, people, and 31 degrees. That's not right - there isn't any snow! I predict this winter is going to be as bad as a two-day old gas station burrito stuffed down the crack of a sofa in a house with no air conditioning.

Someone recently asked me why I don't talk about sex that much. It's very simple, really. My sex life isn't a topic to be thrown on the table and picked over by every greedy-fingered stranger that passes by. There are a few things, to me, that are just too damn private to talk about. Sex is one of them. Oh, I talk about it with my best friend because she's the only one I can trust. She won't go running to Hubby and tease him about anything that I've said, or wait until some gathering and then bring the topic up in front of the whole damn group. Sex is private, got that, P-R-I-V-A-T-E. The love that I share with my husband is rare and I am privileged to have it. I'm not going to sully it by inviting others in to take a look. I have shared a few things with my sister, but she talks openly about her sex life with our mother, and how gross is that? Nope, one thing I've learned is if you want to keep something a secret, keep it a damn secret.

We have a spin class tonight. I'm kinda looking forward to it. Actually, I've been trying to convince myself to go.

Pros
Will lose some calories and keep things in shape
Will spend some time with a few people I like
Will be doing something with hubby

Cons
It's cold as hell, I don't want my sweat to freeze dry itself to my back
Survivor is on tonight
Did I mention its cold as hell?
Hubby would be by himself

I don't know, I'll see how I feel when I get home.

Jebus

What's up with the word "Jebus?" I've seen it on countless blogs and in some articles. What, are you too lazy to pronounce your deity's name correctly? Have you inbred yourselves to the point your offspring can no longer speak?

I hear that some people do it because they think it is cute. It's not cute, it's retarded. In fact, non-retarded people who use this word should apologize to retards for giving them a bad name. Did this come from a movie, a TV show, or a book? If I were the Holy One on high I'd smite anyone stupid enough to misspell my name. The last time I looked, hard-core Christians didn't have enough of a sense of humor to make their God's name into something cute. Hell, some of them don't have a sense of humor AT ALL.

So I guess you morons using "Jebus" aren't really Christians, is that it? You're the one's who go to church when you've done something wrong or it's a holiday. I don't know, but it's stupid. The older you are, the more stupid it is. The only people who can get away with using this word are 2 year olds.

You don't hear China calling their deity "Bhubba", or Arabs saying "Aba". Why? Because they aren't retarded. I am not a Christian, but you would never hear me disrespecting my God if I were. How can you take something seriously when you turn it's very name into a joke? Let me tell you, anyone who mispronounces my name or calls me by some hideous nickname doesn't get any damn favors from me.

I dare you to die, go to Heaven, and greet the big guy with a "Helloooooo, Jebus!"

Ticket to hell, one way....

Pornster

A loooong time ago I signed up at Friendster.com. In my little profile I put the words "very happily married" and "sex-seekers need not apply" or something like that. I was not looking for love, I actually was looking for discounts on internet merchandise but that never panned out. Therefore, I let my Friendster account fall into oblivion.

A couple of weeks ago I get an email from my friendster account. Brian has sent me a smile. Great. Brian is married and lives not too far from St. Louis. Brian is looking for friends. Yeah, like every horny male looking to cheat on his wife doesn't start with that crap.

Brian was looking for the same thing every male from Friendster is looking for, free sex. Every email I've gotten from Friendster all start out the same, you know, "Love to get to know you, what do you like to do?" crap. Then they always turn to "Are you in an open relationship? Do you ever want to go out with a man who's not your husband?" so on and so forth. It takes weeks of me ignoring them to finally get rid of them. I guess that "happily married" in my profile just doesn't say enough.

So here goes: I am so happy in my relationship that other men are ugly to me. Other men repulse me because they don't look/act/make me laugh like my husband. Not only do I have no intention of cheating on my husband, if he were to die I'd never have sex again. I'm in love with him THAT MUCH. Just the thought of him makes me happy, much less that I am lucky enough to spend every day in his presence. He is so satisfying to me in EVERY way that no other man will ever compare. You can have money, fame, prestige, and a huge penis, but I'm just not interested. Got it? NOT INTERESTED!!!!

I've been too lazy to delete my Friendster profile, maybe I'll just put that up and see how many responses I get.

*sigh* 

Kaput just doesn't mean what it used to...

I think People magazine has spent $12.00 trying to get me to come back. I guess that fecal smeared flaming bag of poo I sent them just didn't get the point across.

Howdy

It's been a good day. I had a meeting this morning that went really well, I have another at 1:30 that will take up pretty much the rest of the day. At both meetings I have to do very little besides take notes and answer a few questions. I love my job.

My best friend Alissa has gotten a promotion, I think I told you about that. The slime-ball asswipes that used to give her grief and treat her like a empty computer with tits found out today that she is now their boss. HA-HA! Take that, you evil bastards. The days of wine and roses are over. No more two hour lunches and leaving early and looking at Alissa like "What are you going to do about it?" Now she can fire your ass, or at least make your life really, really hellish. I love JUSTICE!

Then I find out that I get paid today instead of tomorrow because of Veteran's day. Is it my birthday? I guess I can thank my husband for starting the day off right with a little cuddle time this morning.

Oh, oh my God! I just went to the cafeteria to get lunch and they are selling FUZE White Tea. I love this stuff, I'd take it intravenously if I could. And Survivor and CSI are on tonight....either things are finally going my way or a shoe the size of Texas is about to fall on my head.

Off the Road, Freak!

Hippies and nature lovers and those who don't have day jobs should stay off the roads in the morning. I got stuck behind some dumb, dumb, DUMBASS today who had to stop in the middle of the fucking street to take pictures of the trees. Oh, don't think I didn't blast my horn from the minute the camera came out of the window until that bitch started driving again.

Then I managed to cut her off and give her all kinds of hand gestures. She's like "What, did I do something wrong? Aren't the trees beautiful. How can you not stop and look at them? The trees, they feel our energy, they give us life..." They're going to get your ass kicked, you ABBA wanna-be.

You know how, during construction, lanes merge into one so there is always a long line, and there is always some asshole who shoots to the front and tries to barge his way in? After dispatching the tree-freak I had the pleasure of cutting one of those guys off, too. Don't think I won't hit you. I have a 1992 Bonneville with a few dents already, one more isn't going to make a difference. And looking me straight in the eye giving me a smile isn't going to do a damn thing for you. Talk to the bumper. The best part was that the few cars behind me took my lead and refused to let him in, either. Suck that, beast.

The city has decided to close off a MAJOR highway for more construction, so traffic is only going to get worse. Good thing we have that public transportation the city pushed through, the Metrolink is supposed to travel all over this city and make traffic easier. Oh, wait, they're two years behind schedule, guess we're just screwed.

I have way too much work to do. And no ambition to do it. I need a nap.

Do you ever ask yourselves...

...how do I get myself in this situation? I had one of those moments today.

WARNING: Girls may find this amusing, Guys will find it gross. If you are a guy and don't want to read something gross, move on. If not, don't whine. You have been warned.

So I had the unexpected pleasure of starting my period at work today. Of'course, I found this out when I was in the bathroom that doesn't have any female needs stashed away. But I'm good, because I keep my own stash in my office for just such a reason. Yep, I'm smart. I make a bee-line for my office and reach all the way into the back of the drawer and grab a tampon. Now all I have to do is go to the bathroom on my floor across the lounge and I'll be fine.

But what to do with this thing? I don't have a purse, and I'm not going to carry a grocery bag into the bathroom. Today I'm not wearing anything with pockets. I'm not secure enough to just waltz to the bathroom with it in my hand. I finally get the ingenious idea to just stuff it down the front of my underware. My shirt is long enough to hide the small buldge. It's going in that general area to begin with, they might as well get aquainted.

I walk down my hallway and go through the lounge. The lounge is as quiet as a tomb, there is a group of engineering students cramming for something. I take a few steps.

Crinkle.

Oh shit. Please don't tell me that's-

Crinkle, crinkle.

Oh God. You can hear the wrapper when I walk! Maybe if I hurry...

Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle, crinkle.

When did this lounge get longer? I snap, crackle, and pop my way to the bathroom without looking back and die.

I walked down two flights of stairs, outside, up two more flights of stairs, inside, and up another set of stairs to my office just to avoid walking back through the lounge. Having a period is bad enough without the sound effects.

Family

I called my grandmother yesterday to wish her happy birthday but had to leave a message. I had class last night, so afterwards I stopped by my sister's to see if I could steal some of my nephews candy stash. She's on the phone with my grandmother. Great, I'll get to talk to her after all. So my sister walks in to the kitchen and is saying the "Okay, you take care, love you, too," stuff. I reach for the phone thinking it's my turn to talk. My sister says goodbye and hangs up the phone. Okay, so I guess I'll just...not...talk to my grandmother.

I get home and relax in front of the TV for a few moments. My husband is in his room playing Star Wars. Often he will ask me how to spell something (which is like asking a deaf person to sing). Last night he asked again. "Honey, how do you spell panties?"

I don't know, and I don't want to know.

This morning was retard race day on the drive to work. "I'm gonna speed up, now I'm gonna slow down. I'm gonna weave a bit and then stop suddenly, then go really, really fast because it makes me laugh. Ohhhh, a doggy, let me hit the brakes while I clap my hands together, har-har." In order to get a license, you shouldn't be braindead, no? Is it just me?

One last time - if it is too cold to wear the damn sandals, put on some shoes. DO NOT put on socks and then your sandals. Jeez...

People are Just Plain Stupid

I'm walking back from lunch today when I hear behind me the disgusting sound of someone with a clogged nose doing that sucky thing, you know, that "Heccht" sound right before they spit a huge glob of nastiness on the sidewalk? Who thinks this is socially acceptable? Unless you want every female in a five block radius to thing your a pig, why do you do this? It's bad enough I have to dodge them around campus to begin with. Don't you assholes have mothers, or are they the ones who taught you how to do that in the first place? Trash, pure trash you are.

The poor slob who has to take over the White House after Bush gets done destroying it is going to spend his whole term fixing all the shit Bush has fucked up. I hope this country shows him who really has the power and votes Democrat. Of'course, most of this dumbass country voted that prick in for another term, so I can't hold out much hope. To all of you who voted for Bush but won't admit it now, I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY! You have NO right to complain because your the eggheads who put him in power. Trash, pure trash you are.

It's cold, people, wearing shorts and t-shirts is not going to force the weather to get warmer. You just end up looking like dumbasses hurrying from one place to another with your arms wrapped around your middle. You sluts that can't keep your tits in deserve to freeze. If your that darn horny, just pimp your ass out already and grab a sweater. There needs to be a class for you people who think looking cold is fashionable. We'll call it Dumbass 101. Trash, pure trash you are.

Grrrrrrrr.