Farewell Thee

Ye old Barbarian is slapping on the eye patch and taking the ol' pirate ship out for a week long jouney of drinking and pillaging. Yar, buckle down the hatches, boys, it's going to be a wild ride!

Wow

This world is just crazy. It's crazy I say!

I'm really impressed that a 600 pound woman could make it through the sunroof, much less survive.

How would you like to pull jury duty on this?

Now that's love, baby!

Death by Dumbass

How can parents actually think they'll win a lawsuit against a school when it was their children driving around like maniacs? Maybe if the parents had taught the children to drive responsibly they would still be alive. But noooooo, it's not their fault. They have to blame someone else and try to get money for it. Guess what? You're kid was a dumbass and he killed his friends. If the blame should be on anyone but him, its YOU!

When did it become okay to blame others for bad parenting? Tell me, when did parents realize they could shirk their parental obligations, raise their kids like a bunch of fucking brats, then turn around and sue someone else when said fucking brats kills themselves? If I was the judge in this case I'd throw both sets of parents in jail until they realized they were just as much to blame as the stupid kid driving.

New parents should take a 1,000 question exam before they are allowed to have their children. If they fail, it should be mandatory for new parents to take a two year parenting course before they are allowed to have total control of their babies. If they still can't pass the test, the children should be put in homes with intelligent people to raise them.

Still Ain't Killt Nuthin

I went to my Dad's side of the family reunion Sunday, so you'll have to excuse my country twang. My dad's side of the family is, well, hmmmm...backwater. I guess that would be the best way to describe them. I'm not saying that being backwater is a bad thing. I have a touch of backwater running through my veins. Being backwater makes me less likely to be a sucker. See, backwater people don't trust no one no how. Trying to get my relatives to trust you would be like getting the Jews to name their children Adolph. Ain't happ'ning.

Backwater people support the blue jeans industry. They are the salt of the earth, if you lick them you'll see I'm telling the truth. They don't care for our government but they love America. They don't care about Paris Hilton, fashion, or what's going on in Hollywood, but they know everything about farming. I mean EVERYTHING! My older relatives still consider the telephone a new invention. My younger relatives use the phone to actually call people, none of this photo/email/Internet crap for them. And country music is Gospel. Backwater people really know how to decorate a trailer, let me tell you. Teeth are an option or a luxury depending on how you look at it. Backwaters stay married for life, see God in their children, and don't waste time with lies. If you make friends, you have friends for life; but God help you if you make enemies.

Nope, nothing wrong with being a little backwater a'tall.

Here's an interesting fact:

Women see one color differently than do men: red.

She sees crimson, burgundy, and tomato. He sees red. Just plain ol' red. Why? It turns out there's a perfectly good reason why men can't see what is so obvious to women: the many variations--some subtle, some bold--of the color red. Reuters reports that researchers from Arizona State University in Tempe have determined there is a gene that allows us to see the color red, and that gene comes in a high number of variations. Because the gene sits on the X chromosome--and women have two X chromosomes and so two copies of this gene, compared with only one for men--the gene aids women's ability to perceive the red-orange color spectrum. The study findings were reported in the American Journal of Human Genetics.

Last Minute Pardon

Remember a while ago when Hubby was trying to catch the groundhog that's making Swiss cheese out of our porches? We ended up catching 5 possums and called it a day. Well, for Father's Day we visited his dad and took the cage again. We set it up Sunday night. Monday when I got home the groundhog was in the trap.

Bean sprouts. Who knew?

I was so excited to have caught the little shit that I jumped out of my car and started screaming, "HA! We got you you little fucker! Oh, I am going to make you suffer, bwa-ha-ha ha-ha...oh, neighbors." I took the cage around back so I could berate it in private. I let the dog out to bark and lunge at it. I have to say groundhogs have spirit. He didn't cower in the corner at all, but lunged right back.

How would we kill it was the question. Would we drown it? Freeze it to death in our deep-freeze? Pour gas on it and light it up? Hack it to pieces? Shove a pointy stick between it's ears and stab it's brain? Ooooooo, how, oh how, would we do it in? I poked at it with a letter opener I found until Hubby got home. While he gazed at the fruit of his labors I went through our sharp yard tools.

So what did we do?

Hubby took it across the river into Illinois and let it go.

Oh, I know, the disappointment was bitter in my mouth. All the time, all those bags of concrete and man hours getting all those holes filled. All that pent up frustration and HE LET IT GO! I went along for the ride and took the crowbar just in case the little shit came at us once we let it go. It didn't. It took off like a brown streak and disappeared. (Secretly I am hoping it finds its was back and gets caught in the trap again, because then I will kill it before Hubby gets home.)

So all you furry critters who live in my neighborhood and have Internet access BEWARE! I have an unsatisfied blood-lust and I'm not afraid to use it.

Help Me Please

I took a trip through the blog universe today and I have one question. When did grammar become optional in writing? There are a whole slew of things that I saw today.

Using lower case "i" all the time.
No punctuation.
Horrible spelling!
Using number and single letters in place of the proper words, (i.e., 2 , u, r, 1).
I doN't eVen unDerStanD tHis Shit. WhO caN reAd This anD UnDeStAnD It? I caN't.
Like, please stop using, like, um's and stuff, y'know.

People who find it necessary to deviate from proper grammar usually do it in hopes that they will distract the reader from the fact that the author has NOTHING TO SAY!

I can't speak for everyone, but when I see writing like this I envision some pimply-faced high school loser who sits at home all day because they have no real friends. Said person can't think for themselves and have never had an original thought in their lives. People like this usually end up working low-wage jobs because they don't posses the intelligence to get anything better. They will grow up to smoke dope and play beer-pong professionally. These people are more interested in seeking approval from others than walking their own paths.

Education is a gift, people. Knowledge is power. If you write like a retarded dumbass, that's how people are going to see you. And treat you. And always remember you. If any of the bloggers I saw today were to ask me for a job I'd laugh in their face. Being original doesn't mean coming off like a moron. Arg, bad English always gets my hackles up.

No wonder English teachers all over America are demanding higher pay. If I had to read one, ONE paper written with these errors I'd put a gun to my head.

I Score!

My father is very hard to buy for. He doesn't have a whole lot of hobbies and he's picky. So this Father's Day I managed to get something that I hope he'll like.

When I was little my dad read Conan the Barbarian comic books. He kept them in his bathroom, so I would always use his potty so I could read the comics. Hey, I was little, it didn't occur to me to remove the comics from the bathroom. Anyway, we would talk about Conan and all his exploits after I read the latest story. He even took me to see "Conan the Barbarian" in the movie theater, just him and I. Because of this Conan has a very special place in my heart. It's something that Dad and I shared between us, almost like a secret because my mom and sister weren't so enamored.

So this year I sent him two bound volumes of Conan the Barbarian comics. Robert Howard is dead, been dead for a while, so I hope he likes them. Others carry on the Conan legacy, but nothing is ever as good as the original.

Mom - don't tell! Dad should get them in the next day or so.

Zoo Trip II

<-- I took this photo of the girraff.
When I showed it to her she gasped and said, "let me try that again."

Zoo Trip

I have never taken any formal photography classes. Last Saturday my friend Alissa and I went to the zoo with her kids and I took some pretty nice photo's. It helped that the animals were so cooperative.

Trunks up mean good luck, right?

The Saga ENDS!

Lo and behold the reason for my recent pain has finally been found. I had a burst cyst (cist? sist? How the hell do you spell this word?) in my left ovary. The worst part I lived through and now I am doing just fine. Funny how something so darn small can cause so much pain. Now I'll have to ready myself for the pain of the medical bills.

I have been on the Pill for a long time, and when someone is on the Pill for a long time they usually don't have these problems. My doctor looks at me (up, actually, as he's only 5'5") and says, "I guess you just have some pretty tough ovaries."

Well (blush) what can I say, you gotta be tough to live in this body.

My husband and I have an arrangement. I am going off the Pill on December 31, 2006. He can get a vasectomy or we can become parents. I told my Dr. this and at the end of our meeting he goes, "Well, I'll see you next June. Unless you get pregnant, then I'll know your husband didn't make the deadline." I love my short little OBGYN.

Great Moments In Bitchery!

I had to go to my doctor yesterday morning to get an ultrasound. I won't go into the details for all you men out there who may read this, but I had to have a full bladder for the first ultrasound. AT 7:15 I started drinking my 24 oz. of water and by 8am I really had to go. I was getting ready to leave the house so I had to kick the kitty out of the bedroom. I picked him up at the precise moment he saw the dog in the hallway. Kitty became a set of Ginsu knives and I was the tin can. Needless to say I beat the living shit out of the cat and went on my way.

I know I am an angry person, but I was more steamed than I needed to be. When I got to the doctor's office I told myself to calm down. I took a few deep breathes and walked into the office.
There was no one at the front desk and no patients. I signed in and made a lot of noise so the voices in the background could hear me. Nothing. I stood there and made more noise. Nothing. I said, "Helloooooo?" Again, nothing. A worker comes in through the door behind me and asks if I've been helped. Nope. She walks into the back and comes around the front desk to help me. I sign my forms and have a seat.

Mind you, no one in the back has come forward yet.

The door opens and another employee (I could tell because she was wearing scrubs) comes in. I give her that I'm-acknowledging-you-as-a-human-being smile that most of us do. She looks at me with such hatred and disdain that I comment, "Great. Nice to see you're all so fucking friendly around here." Then I get a look of confused disdain before she walks through the door and disappears. Shortly after the front desk lady finally appears and says, "Excuse me."

I ignore her.
"Ex-cuse me."
I ignore her again.
"Excuse me, can you hear me?"
"Yes," I say, "I'm making you wait."

It's a very good thing that I haven't been exposed to any gamma radiation or I'd have Hulked up and destroyed that office. Is it so hard to give good customer service?

However, my boiling rage really surprised me. Why was I so angry? I've never been such a complete bitch over minor details before. These people have my name and all other vital information. Yet there I was ready to kill them all and then go get a sandwich. My medical problem, whatever it is, has to include messed-up hormone levels. Do I feel guilty about hitting the cat? Oh yes. Do I feel guilty for anything else? Hell no.

Today I get my results. I certainly hope there is a easy solution to this or I may end up in jail.

Pet Peeves

I have many pet peeves. Hey, we all do, but one that really annoys me seems to be popular these days. I like to watch movie trailers. I like to see how an editor or director makes a five minute intrigue that is supposed to convince you to see a movie. Some are brilliant, some suck, but most manage to get the general idea across.

What I hate is watching a five minute preview where three and a half minutes are dedicated to listing how many awards the film has won. Who cares if it was Sundance's greatest film? Who cares if Puerto Rico gave it an award? Half the awards listed no one knows about anyway. Don't waste my time by making me look at how many freaking awards the film may/may not have won. Just show me the damn movie. It doesn't matter how many other people like it, if I think it sucks I'm not seeing it.

So there.

Daddy's First Try at Nail Clipping

Okay, so Daddy thought it would be a good idea to clip Beo's claws as they are getting rather long. I have a skirt with a big hole in it due to those claws and we both have bruises. Daddy reads the instructions that came with the claw clippers. He gets puppy in a comfortable position, angles the clippers right, makes that snip -- Oh shit!

Beo bled like Nicole Simpson. Our kitchen looked like a crime scene. We tried putting neosporin on it but the blood washed most of it off. We bandaged it, taped it, and then covered the paw with a sock so Beo wouldn't chew at it.

Daddy felt AWFUL! As you can see from the photo Beo can give a mean "guilty" look. My poor baby. Both my babies. After three hours we took the sock, tape (that was fun), and bandage off. Luckily the bleeding stopped and Beo didn't have any physical or emotional scars. Not so sure about Daddy...

We'll cough up the cash to go to a groomer next time.

My First Ever Dumbass Awards

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for being here today. Today we celebrate the dumbest of the dumb. It was a large category with many qualified nominations. The decision was tough, but we've finally come up with a winner. The first Barbarian Dumbass Award goes to Ben Roethlisberger for his ignorance and arrogance in motorcycle safety.

Ben hasn't been a bright boy since birth, but his talent at throwing a ball garnered him an incredible paycheck, fans, respect, and a Superbowl ring. Considered lucky by roughly 82% of the population, Ben was in a position to sit pretty for the rest of his sports-shortened life. Now he's thrown it all away because he doesn't like wearing a helmet. That, ladies and gents, is as dumb as a dumbass can get. Congratulation, Ben, on this fine award. We hope you have enough brain activity left to appreciate it.

Other nominees:
S-A-T-A-N

That'll be $19.95

Baby on Board

Woof

Gee Whiz

The Saga Continues

I went to the third doctor today and found that I may, MAY, have found the source of all my pain. Let me 'splain.

Before Memorial weekend I started getting a pain in my left side. I went to my general doctor and after he poked around a while and took blood and urine specimens he had no diagnosis. "Could be Colitis related," he says. "Make an appointment with your butt doctor."

So I do. I couldn't see him until June 6th. Glad I wasn't bleeding or anything. So on June 6th I go to my butt doctor. He pokes around and says, "Well, we'll have to take a look at the colon." On June 8th I had a colonoscopy and then my troubles really began. After I slept off the drugs my left side hurt like hell. It hurt to stand, sit, walk, bend over, or lay down. Friday morning was a little better but I was still in pain, so I called the good ol' butt doctor to find out if this was normal. I made that call at 9am. About 6:30pm he finally calls me back. He says I shouldn't be in pain (but I was) because nothing he saw would be causing it (but it was there). "When you find out what it is, let me know, eh?"

Gee, thanks.

So Sat. and Sun I spent relaxing and going crazy. The pain has subsided a lot but it still hurts if I poke it. I've stopped poking it. Today I went to the Gyno for a full exam. Turns out my left ovary is slightly enlarged so this Wednesday I have to have an ultrasound to find out what's up. If this Dr. doesn't find anything I don't know what I'll do.

I used to get tired of every ache and pain being traced back to my colitis, but now I'd give anything to know the source of this is. This is so frustrating! I don't have a fever, my white blood cells aren't elevated, there isn't any infection, but I was in freaking pain! Arg!

Out of My Mind...Back Later

I have been having some health issues lately. I am hoping the doctor I see today will be able to find what is wrong. I have been sleeping a lot and staying away from work. I will talk more later.

Meow. Why must you torture me? Like having the tall, smelly creature chase me around isn't enough? 

After two days of wrestling Beo finally gives up and lets us take a picture. My mom got him this hat, guess who she works for. 

Hey...Look at Me...I'm Pot

Your Personality Is Like Marijuana

You're laid back and easy going, so much so that taking a shower is often too much trouble for you! Nevertheless, you're quite popular, and many people enjoy your company. You're rarely turned down. You're prone to giggle fits, paranoia, and forgetting where you are exactly.

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

Yeah, right! Popular? Hardly. People enjoy my company? Could have fooled me. I guess people only need me when they want to smoke me.

YARG Indeed!

My pirate name is:

Black Prudentilla Kidd

Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, you can be pessimistic at times. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.