Bad Times

My grandfather had another massive heart attack yesterday and there isn't much hope for his survival. The doctors are "making him comfortable," and that is never a good sign.

Papaw fought in WWII as a medic, he and his pals had the pleasure of cleaning up Normandy Beach after we stormed it. Before that day Papaw had wanted to be a mortician. After he came back home he worked in a rubber plant for the next 40 years. He and my Mamaw are high school sweethearts. They have never been apart since he came back from the war. He loves to laugh and has an unnatural ability to hurt himself at any time. Papaw and bandaides go together like milk and cookies.

I don't know where I heard/read this, but it rings quite true - "Pray for the living, for the dead feel no sorrow."

Good Times

Yesterday was a good day. Alissa's son was celebrating his third birthday. I went over early to help Alissa set up. Good thing because she had 147 chores and one hour to do them. I decorated, which I just love doing, then helped with all the other things that needed to be done. I can't believe Alissa was left alone with all those chores to do. Afterwards we had just enough time to sit and have a drink before people started showing up.

Alissa's Aunt and Uncle were first and they are a hoot! They are the nicest people and so funny. I felt like I could be myself with them and that helped a lot as I don't feel that way around Alissa's mother. Hmmm, I don't think anyone does. None the less, by the time AJ's daddy got home (he just HAD to get a haircut - that lasted for an hour) the rest of the family arrived the festivities began. Alissa made a ham (yum), her mother brought some cheesy potatoes (yum-yum), and her sister-in-law brought these to die for rolls. I ate until I popped. Alissa put my guts back in and we continued on to the cake. AJ opened his presents and then we all headed to the barn to see the new baby chicks. Have you ever had a chicken lay an egg right next to you? Just up and *squirt* an egg? It's an odd thing.

Finally the relatives left and Alissa and I were alone to relax. It was a good time. I felt like I belonged. Hubby was away in IL dogsitting for his cousin, so I didn't have to hurry home. Once I did get home I submerged myself in a hot bath and then fell into bed. All in all a really good day.

Unbelievable!

What a dumb bitch. I am embarrassed this numb cunt lives in my town. That's right, I USED THE C WORD. A man puts a gun to her head, forces her to have sex, says he's going to go kill people, and she doesn't call the police when he leaves? She hears about his killing rampage on the news and then decides to call the police?

I don't know about you, but I think she should be charged with accessory to murder. Let's put this stupid bitch where she belongs - away from society.

One word - LAWSUIT!

Some Disgusting Helpful Tips

WARNING: Poop talk.

I am the Queen of Poop. It's not a title I really wanted but with the onslaught of my poopy disease I unwillingly became an expert on all things poopful. I will share some things that I have learned over the years that have made my life easier and maybe, someday, may help you.

So your driving in your car and maybe you had a crave-case full of White Castles the night before that you washed down with a six-pack of $1.99 beer. Your body is telling you you have two miles before an unwanted explosion in your pants, but you're 20 miles from the nearest toilet. Man, I wish I had a dollar....never mind, this is what you do. If you've taken lamanz classes with a pregnant lady you already have the idea. Breathe. Concentrate on pulling air in, holding it for a second, and pushing the air out. Don't think of anything else but breathing. This calms the muscles in your abdomen, thus lessening any pressure or pain you might be feeling. It only works for a little while, so if you're 40 miles from the nearest toilet I suggest you look for a crop of trees.

Always carry a roll of toilet paper in your car. Put it in the trunk and forget about it. You may feel silly for doing it, but when you need that toilet paper you will feel like a genious.

You finally make it to the potty and only half of what you ate comes out. You can feel the rest in there, but it won't come out. Don't push and strain and give yourself an aneurysm. Stand up. You don't need to pull up your pants but you may want to wipe first. Stand up and wait until you feel things shift. Sit back down and wa-la! Works for me.

If you notice your stomach is poochie and you haven't gone for a day or two don't go running for the laxatives. They work really fast and they don't stop working once the job is done. Instead drink water. Don't chug it, just sip on a bottle continuously until you get results. It's cheap, it regulates your bowels, and you don't have the 12-hour laxative hangover that comes with most drugs.

As I am the Queen of Poop, I also have a horrible obsession with smell. I'm terrified that people will be able to tell when I've taken a poop. I also have an unnatural obsession with, ahem...female odor. Some of us are cursed with a signature fragrance. When I get hot and sweaty I'm afraid people will be able to smell me coming. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. I have found a way to kill both problems. Oil. Yep, essential oils. I prefer lavender. Five or six drops on the outside of my underwear cures any odor problems I may have. When things get warm the oil heats up, thus releasing it's smell and not your own. It also works on covering up farts. Not all farts, but the small ones for sure. Essential oils will not stain your silky drawers and washes off in the laundry. I tried lemon grass with some success as well as orange blossom, but I really like the lavender.

Finally, for you ladies that are terrified of pooping in public because someone may hear you, before you sit down take a few squares of toilet paper and lay them down on the surface of the water. You've just created sound proofing. Of'course, if you let out a train rumbling fart the TP isn't going to do much good.

Have a good day!

Success

My big event was a success. Yeah, me. Now they want me to come up with a softball league for the summer. I hate softball.

Nothing to really report here.

My Big Event

Today I am hosting a big event for my department. It is a happy hour welcoming the faculty, grad students, and postdocs of the biology department. I have been putting this together for the last two months and today is the day. I'm nervous. I rented out the impressive gallery in our new chemistry building, ordered a butt-load of food, a keg, and have a few students helping me set up. Last night I kept see-sawing between, "I have too much food," to, "I don't have enough food." I'm worried no one will come and then I'm worried too many people will come. Oy, I haven't felt like this since I worked for SCAD in the events department, only then I wasn't in charge.

If I pull this off I will climb up another step on the ol' company ladder. That isn't the main goal, but it sure is a perk. The only mistake I made was today is Good Friday. I guess only the pagans will show up. Oh well, they're a lot more fun to party with anyway. It will be a long day for me but I don't mind. I could be doing a lot worse.

Wish me luck!

Great Moments in Bitchery!

Boys and girls it is now time for another installment of Great Moment in Bitchery! We take you back several years to the early 1990's, the start of the grunge movement and the beginning of my 20's.

I had met a guy, we'll call him Dick, on the streets of Delmar one sultry summer night. He was living with a friend who lived in one of the fashionable lofts near the Loop and invited me over for dinner. It was wonderful! His friend was much older and a widower. He had traveled all over the world and knew how to cook. We ate, drank, and had a lovely time. Dick and I saw each other often during that time, I even let him crash at my place one day when he was too drunk to drive home. He paid me back by taking me out to dinner. Such a nice Dick.

Then I got a call from my bank saying that someone had tried to forge a check of mine. What?! I went to the bank and received black and white print-outs of the video surveillance. A black man and woman had walked into my bank, taken out a book of my checks, and tried to cash one. Luckily the teller was one smart cookie and noticed the signatures didn't match. This begs the question of how they got my checkbook...I mean I'm the only person in my apartment....my checks are hidden....no one had time alone in my apartment....except for that one time that....DICK!

I drove straight to the loft, parked my car, and knocked on the door. The widower answered and I barged through the door, ran up the stairs, and burst into Dick's room armed with the video images. "Friends of yours?" I yelled. Dick didn't seem to know what I was talking about. Funny how he couldn't look me in the eye. Then I showed the pictures to his friend. He didn't say anything to me, but by the way his face turned purple I assumed he knew more than he was saying.

I found out two days later that Dick was homeless. Guess that's what you get when you steal from your friends.

Hack, Hack, Cough, Wheeze

I'm still a bit sick, but I saw this and I have to say something. The 911 operators should be held 100% accountable for the death of this lady. I know they get prank calls and calls that aren't emergencies, but to ignore a call is totally inexcusable. If you don't want to handle a bunch of calls, why the hell would you work for 911? I know the operators will hide behind their lawyers and their city worker's badges and insist they did nothing wrong, but the blood of this lady is on them and them alone. I don't see how they can look at themselves in the mirror.

Didn't we learn anything from the case of a boy who was beaten to death on a city street and 911 operators ignored more than 25 calls about it? Why aren't those women in jail?

Guest Blogger

Since I'm still a bit under the weather I have a guest blogger today. Beo, take it away...

Hihihihihihihihi i like my new place i like to play with my rope i play all day with Mommy and Daddy they throw it and i bring it back they throw it and i bring it back they throw it and i bring it back alllllllll day long and they let me sleep on a pillow and i don't have to stay outside all the time and i chase the big grey rat around and i bark at it and it hisses at me and then i chase it some more then they take me in the small room and let me run around under water that falls from the sky and they give me loving and i looooooove loving i like to sit on mommy but she don't like it when i bite and she smackes my butt when i get in the trash and they let me go outside and don't lock me out and wipe my feet when its wet and i bark at the stupid black dog on the other side of that fence until mommy says, "leave that bitch alone!" i don't think mommy likes her and daddy takes me for long walks and i pull pull pull on the leash and then i get a bone.

You'll have to excuse his grammar, he's still a puppy. Till next time!

What's in a name?

I caught The Italian Job last night on TMC. That was a great movie, it had a great cast, and my husband told me he thought they were doing a sequel. They are, it's going to be called The Brazilian Job.

Are they serious? When I think of anything Brazilian it usually means I'm about to have my vagina waxed.

Nirvana

I've reached a point in my life that many of you will be able to identify with. I like to call it the "Don't Give a Shits." Perhaps it is the combination of illness and extreme boredom, but I just don't give a shit about anything. I have work to do...I have things to write...my body is shutting down...my husband ignores me constantly...I puked all over his car...my future unfolds each and every day and it isn't looking good...I just don't give a shit.

My sister's birthday is coming up. My final paper is due in two weeks. People in my family have bad health. My dad's family reunion is coming up. My office is a mess. I'm 30 pounds overweight. My hair is driving me crazy. All I want to do is go to sleep. Why? All together now, I just don't give a shit.

You Did This To Me!

Itchy throat...runny nose...nausea...dizzy...thanks for the illness, hon.