This day has only gotten WORSE!

There is a girl (I won't insult women by calling her a woman) who was a grad student in my department. She is a total and unequalled bitch by many definitions. She and I hate each other with such a passion that we could liquefy lava.

Two weeks ago this fire-breathing narcissist defended her thesis, which means she graduated from the program and was free to leave this University and go about her evil, merry way. I was so happy to see her go I brought champagne to work and drank it gleefully all day.

Today I discovered that she has chosen to postdoc with her graduate professor. What does this mean? She'll be here AT LEAST another two years.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG!

Why me? I try to get along with her on a professional level but she persists in being nasty and combative at every turn. She's only 5'3", I could kick her ass in a heartbeat but I know she's the type who would call Johnny Cochran. Wait, isn't he dead? Ok, then, Jesse Jackson. Maybe even Al Sharpton. I'd end up in jail and she'd send me postcards to gloat about it.

Hello, alcoholism? Here I come!

The Foul Mood Continues

I ordered the best pair of boots the other day. Knee length, pointy toed, covered with a comic book print in black and white, and only $12.99. I have been salivating for these boots since I ordered them. I have organized outfits around these things.

I get an email today saying they are sold out.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, I want to smash that store to rubble!

I'm a size 10. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent shoe in a size 10? For some reason the fashion industry thinks women with large feet need orthopedic support or wear nothing but tennis shoes. And if I do manage to find a decent size 10 it's sold out. I bet a slew of drag queens took all the larger sizes. I'm so pissed! Of course, they have the same boot in pink and black. PINK? I don't DO pink.

So my whole day is ruined. I can't find anything like them anywhere else online. God-damned son-of-a-bitch!

Meaner Than a Junkyard Dog

I am in a rotten mood today. I think it has to do with driving to work. All the construction that has half this city closed off has forced all the horrible back-road drivers to take the main routes. Between the old people who can't drive more than 30mph and the make-up whores who can't drive at all to those fucking assholes on their cell phones who think they are so damn important my blood pressure is spiking.

Just drive your damn car, alright? It isn't a salon or an office or even on auto-pilot. That round thing in front of you steers the car and in order for it to work your hands actually have to be on it. That little stick thing on the left of that big wheel is called a "signal." It's polite and necessary for you to use this when you want to make a turn. And if you know your turn is coming don't slam on your brakes at the last minute and then look amazed when those of us behind you give you hand gestures.

You can not talk and drive, alright? You can't. Your little, tiny brain can't take it. It's overtaxed trying to do two or three things at once. We, the public, do not give a DAMN about what is going on in your life and we WILL NOT excuse you for driving like a fucking idiot. I just wish the cops felt the same way.

And for FUCK'S SAKE it's just a cop pulling someone over for speeding, there is no need to slow your car to a crawl and inspect the scene for every little piece of information you hope to get just so you can tell your co-workers you saw a cop today. Weee! A real cop doing his job, how RARE. How unbelievably MUNDANE!

I'm so sick of this city. I'm sick of the noise and the traffic. It stinks. I'm so glad we are leaving it next week. If I had any say-so in the matter we would never come back.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Nightmares

It's about damn time someone stood up for non-smokers. It's also a damn shame that a mother wouldn't give up her habit to keep her kid. I guess all those people who feel it is their right to smoke now understand it's everyone else's' right not to be around it.

I had a doozy of a dream last night. I dreamt my husband went to visit our friend G and came back with a new girlfriend. He walked that whore right into our house and started treating her like she owned the place. With them were a bunch of her friends and her family and they all treated me like I was trash. I tried talking to my husband but he wouldn't say anything but, "You have three days to get your shit together."

Then the bitch started going through my closet and making fun of my clothes! Oh, I don't think so. I got our biggest kitchen knife and introduced that girl to a psychopath. After getting her and her family out of MY house, I called my best friend and told her to bring over 3 bottles of wine and a gallon of gasoline. It was horrible. I couldn't stop crying, I threw-up, and inside was this unrelenting pain.

I woke up before she got there. Whew! I wonder what I would have done? In real life I would have gotten them out of the house, loaded everything into a U-Haul, sold what I could of his things, emptied out our bank account, and traveled to the South. All in one day, leaving him two days before discovering I'd emptied him out. Yeah, live a good life with your new bitch now!

I Got Your Stem Cell Right Here!

Last night I drove home from work using a route I don't take often. At a busy intersection a group of people stood on the corner holding signs. I couldn't see the signs as they faced away from me. When the light turned green I saw a group of people on the other corner as well. Their signs I could read.

"Vote NO on Amendment #2."
"Amendment #2 is abusive to women."

Amendment #2 deals with stem cell research. If you want stem cell research, you vote yes. If you don't want it, you vote no.

I had my window rolled down so I put my hand out the window and gave these sign holders the finger. I wiggled it around just so they'd be sure to see it.

How in the hell is stem cell research abusive to women? Do these people know that the research takes place in a lab? Under a microscope? Stem cells aren't "born" and have no gestation period. Idiots.

I'm sure these people were of the religious sort. At least, the big cross they were waving around gave that indication. So they are saying that stem cell research is unholy and against God. Well I have a question for you.

Christians say that God has a plan for every person on this planet and that plan was in place long before the person was born. God controls everything, right? So how has 50+ years of research escaped his attention? Is it possible that God gave these men the ability to initiate stem cell research because it's a way man can help himself? You think He's just a little tired of having to do EVERYTHING? Stem cell research didn't just appear one day. Scientists have spent their whole lives getting to this point. So if God is all seeing and all controlling and these guys haven't been reduced to dust yet, maybe God WANTS stem cell research, no?

In my opinion this isn't about God, it's about science. Praying for cures from illnesses hasn't been working out too well, has it?

What I really loved was one of the girls had a big pink ribbon attached to her shirt. Ah, breast cancer, one of the diseases that can benefit from stem cell research. The irony is killing me.

I Have No Snappy Title

For those of you not living in the metro St. Louis area, here is a little news story that is sure to chill your heart.

As a writer I have taught my brain to misbehave. I hunker down with the dark and disturbing in an attempt to make a living. I research murderers and rapists. I know that humans are capable of great cruelty and coldness, but even I was shocked to hear what this woman did. Not only what she did, but the fact that she did it to her own cousin. This woman killed four children and one adult, then lied about it to her family. Her boyfriend turned her in. If he hadn't, this psycho-killer would still be free.

How devoid of emotion do you have to be to drown three children in a bathtub, stuff them in a washer and dryer, stab your cousin and render her unconscious, rip open her abdomen, take out her baby (killing it in the process), then gather the family around to mourn the death of your "newborn." That's balls, ladies and gentlemen, big a church bells. Her bond is $5 million dollars. I'm glad none of her family will be able to get her out of jail. She'd probably run.

If there were ever an argument for the death penalty I think this is it. Why should this creature be allowed to live? Do you think therapy and some time in jail is going to solve whatever deep emotional problems this woman has? There is no excuse for this, this wasn't a crime of passion or a spur-of-the-moment killing. It takes at least 4 minutes to drown a person. They tend to struggle, one has to hold a person down to make sure they die. And cutting into a womb is not an easy task. One has to clean themselves up after a thing like that. This woman is depraved, devious, and dangerous. She deserves to burn in hell.

Christians!

Read this. I can't believe that these people are being this stupid!

"Oh, our President isn't paying attention to our 'value issues,' instead paying more attention to that little war over in Iraq and other world issues that don't concern us."

Listen, assholes, there are more important issues in this world than gay marriage and abortion. We have a homeless problem, we have a poverty problem, our children are not getting a basic high school education, our government is corrupt, our rights are falling by the wayside, our prisons are over-crowded and medicine costs and arm and a leg. We pay too much for gas, we are killing off this planet, terrorists are killing people every day, diseases are becoming stronger and smarter, our food supply is uncertain, housing prices are falling, President Egghead wants to put a WALL up around our BORDER, and sex slaves are still being kept in this country.

But God forbid, we have to address gay marriage!

You conceited, holier-than-thou, narcissistic, bigoted, self-centered, ignorant, cowardly, violent, shit-filled thunder-cunts!

While you argue about a guy loving a guy I want to make sure I'm still going to have a retirement to depend on in about 40 years, okay? Weep over a dead baby, go ahead, I'm more concerned with having medical insurance and still being able to eat. I'm going to fight cops being able to arrest me for no reason, detain me for no reason, and convict me for no reason. Because that's what effects me. That's what I'm concerned about.

The day I wake up a pregnant lesbian I'll give you fuckers a call.

Whack-a-Mommy

For those of you unfamiliar with the boxer breed, they are one big tightly-wound muscle with endless energy. Our boy is about 60 pounds. He has very good muscle tone and a hard head. I think the bone of his skull must be an inch thick. When we get home he jumps around like a pissed-off bull at the rodeo. Jump, jump, jump.

Last night I got home first and let Beo out and took care of a few things before I let him back in. My bag fell over so I leaned down to pick it up at the same moment my puppy concentrated all his strength into launching himself off the floor.

Head bone's connected to the face bone.
CRACK!
Mommy is seeing stars.

I had to put ice on my lip it hurt so bad and I was afraid it would swell. I ran my tooth through the skin of my lip. I tasted blood. I thought I was in big trouble (not nearly as much trouble as said puppy, who was by then cowering in a corner waiting for his doom). Okay, I cussed a bit and maybe I yelled. I did NOT kick the dog across the room, which was my first instinct, so I felt pretty good about that.

Beo lowered his head and kind of crawled up to me, it was too damn cute to stay mad. He didn't mean to do it. Then Daddy got home and his guilt was all but forgotten. That little sucker jumped around and around again, taunting me. The urge to kick him came back, and yet again I refrained.

Damn dog.

Get the barf bags ready.

Did I ever mention I love being a wife? I love being my husband's wife. Before I met him I didn't really care to get married. My mother pushed for it since I was 14 but I didn't really have the desire. Then I met ol' Hubby and my view on love and marriage began to change.

I love the fact that I am the only person who can run my fingers along his naked chest. I'm the one who can sink my teeth into his shoulder or pat his little butt. I'm the one who gets to kiss him, hug, him, and hold him close to me. I'm the one who gets to see him do his little dance when he's happy or hear him cuss a blue streak when he's not. I know what he looks like naked and I'm the only one.

He makes me laugh every day. We have so many private jokes other's think we're crazy when we burst out laughing. I'm the one who sees him turn into a little boy when he's wrestling with our dog. I'm the one who gets to do his laundry and cleans up after he cooks. It's me! I'm the one and it makes me so happy. I share his dreams, ambitions, and flaws. Oh, and he has my number, too. No two ways about that.

There are plenty of men out there who could probably make me happy but I was lucky enough to find the only one who's perfect for me. I love him and he loves me and he's the only one! You can go ahead and puke now.

Ain't that a bitch.

Here's a story about two parents who kidnapped their 19-year-old daughter in order to force her to have an abortion. What's that noise I hear? Probably the oral flatulence of 1,000,000 anti-abortion activists.

I bet, I just BET that these parents consider themselves of the religious persuasion. I bet before the day is out they say something to the effect of God wanting/making them do this. See, the baby's Daddy is in prison. Mom and Pop didn't want his evil seed producing in the fine, angelic soil of their daughter's womb. Oh, I just bet.

If your child is over the age of 18, financially independent, and living on their own you as a parent can not tell your child what to do. Them's the breaks. At that point they are no longer children but adults and you must treat them as such. "Mothering' and "Fathering" comes to an end. It does. There is a point when the cord must be cut and the offspring must sink or swim on their own. It sucks, but you can't keep your baby a baby forever.

Suffer the little children...

I remember hearing about a Russian school siege in September of 2004, but I never really knew what happened. Now I do.

I watched a movie this weekend called Children of Beslan. It was a documentary about the children who were held hostage, what they saw, and how they were doing 1 year later. The overall answer? Not good.

Many of these children watched their parents die. Their siblings and friends died right next to them. It was such a horrible hostage situation that lasted 3 days. It ended in a bloody cluster-fuck that ended the lives of 330+ people. The children are no longer young, they have become adults dealing with very real, adult emotions - anger, fear, rage, anxiety, and confusion. Why? Why kill the innocent children? Why in Beslan? There aren't any answers.

One boy wants to become President of the world so he can, "Slit the throats of all terrorists with a knife." One girl drew pictures of the terrorists so she can tear them up and burn them. She says, "It's never enough. I want them to burn more, to die more." One child was so afraid of terrorists coming back that for months he climbed a tower and sat there watching over his home, a toy rifle by his side.

I don't know why this affects me so. I don't particularly care about children. Perhaps it's not knowing the exact horror these children faced but knowing it was something beyond my worst nightmares. Maybe it is the courage these kids show at such a tender age. They can smile again, joke again. They play as if they don't have a care in the world. It's tragically amazing.

It's a Monday all right.

Traffic this morning was unbelievable. Why are we stopped, there's nothing wrong! If you go I go and the people behind me go. That's how it works.

This weekend was fun. Alissa and I rented a car to take her daughter to homecoming. When I went to the rental place they didn't have a Dodge Charger (we hoped to get one), so I picked up a cute little 4-Runner. It was nice, I liked sitting up so high, but I knew Alissa would be disappointed. Hubby and I dropped the 4-runner off at the house and went grocery shopping. When we got back there was a message on the machine from the rental place - a Charger had come in! I drove like my ass was on fire to get it. It was white, pretty, fast, and it was all mine.

Now, I don't get all googol-eyes over cars. I like the really old ones, like from the 20's. So today's high octane engines do nothing for me. I could care less if we had the Charger but Alissa was all atwitter. Oh, don't get me wrong, it drove nice and I liked the attention we received from it, but I dropped it off this morning with little regret. Alissa is now saving up her pennies to buy one of her own.

I went to her house last night and M, her boyfriend, wanted to drive it. NOT ON YOUR LIFE! That boy in a rental? That he's not responsible for? In the rain? On the back roads of the country they live in? I don't think so, the temptation would have been too great. As it was he wanted me to burn rubber out of their drive-way so he could see what kind of power it had. Have you ever heard of anything so retarded? I bet all the men reading this are going, "Well, yeah, what's wrong with that?" Oy.

Photo's to come.

Jack and Jill went up the hill...

And B-Butt came tumbling after. Last night my nephew met a rock face first and ended up with stitches in his forehead. Poor baby. He seemed to be doing well when my sister called so I'm sure he'll be okay.

The only thing I didn't understand is my sister drove alllllllll the way out to an emergency room in Bu-Fu. Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't head injuries supposed to be seen quickly? The reason? She likes that hospital.

I'm sorry, but it makes no sense to bypass at least two other hospitals to get an injured person to one that I like. If B-Butt had been more seriously injured that time may have been critical to his recovery. I certainly hope he never severs a limb. He'd bleed out before my sister gets through traffic.

I think he probably stayed home from school today. I know I would. He'll be the talk of the town on Monday, though. At his age stitches are cool.

We Are Family

I'd like to welcome my mother to the world of technology. You can check her out at http://www.proudmomofbb.blogspot.com.

Please be patient with her, her first few posts may be short and full of curse words as she figures out how to use Blogger. She gets frustrated (don't we all) and loses her patience. Now you can see where I get it. She also isn't afraid to be honest. I love her dearly and can't wait to see what she has to say.

A little background: Mom was born and raised in Kentucky. That's where the accent comes from. She married a man from Missouri. She had one daughter in Florida and one in Germany. She now lives in Alabama. Through all her world travels she learned many things - just not grammar. Boo-yah! Oh, cute and fuzzy is over!

Watch out world because my mom has a quick wit and a sharp tongue and isn't afraid to use them. Stop in and say Hi.

Wh..who..WHAT?!

I'm watching Rock Star: Supernova last night and I'm so sure Dilana is going to win. The final four were Toby (shitty Australian singer), Magni (okay Icelandic singer), Frogboy (shitty American singer with a skunk stripe and no talent), and Dilana (the most talented singer on that show from the beginning).

Magni gets kicked off in the first 16 minutes followed by Toby.

This was an easy decision. Frogboy growls, screams, hiccups, and slurs his words through any song he sings. Dilana uses her unique voice to pump life into any song she sings. Dilana is the clear choice. The smart choice. The, dare I say, profitable choice.

THEY CHOSE FROGBOY!!

What the hell were they thinking? He sings like crap, jerks around the stage like a meth addict having a seizure, and dresses like the Thompson Twins on crack. His range is nil, his voice is gravel, and he looks like a freaking frog. What is wrong with them?

I heard they can't even go out and tour as "Supernova." The courts have decided another shitty band who's had the name longer can keep it. How about Frogboy and his Slurpy Seconds? Or, Jason Newstead Needs to Discover Hairgel?

I couldn't even watch their first "performance." I'm very glad that Dave and Gilby offered their services to Dilana (I think Dave would pretty much offer her anything, wink-wink). Maybe they'll form a band and sink Super-Don't-Call-Us-Nova like the Titanic. I'm disappointed. I'm aghast.

I'm so looking forward to Survivor.

Secrets Revealed

My nephew calls me Aunt B.B. I don't think he knows why. In fact, I'm pretty sure that most people don't know why. I'm feeling a little euphoric today so I'll explain the mystery.

When I was in high school my sister had a particularly disparaging nickname for me, B.B. It stood for Buttless Boobless.

Yep.

People who know me will ask, "What, was your sister blind?" I have sense concurred the B.B. syndrome. In fact, I am as far away from B.B. as one can get without surgery. I don't mind. I like the fact that it has been turned into an affectionate name. Someday B-Butt may find out what it means but it sure won't be from me.

And if you know what's good for you, it won't be from you, either.
Enough sharing.

Mr. Snorlax & The Beast

I went to bed after my husband last night. Big mistake:

Hubby: "Snoooooooore."
Dog: "Snuuuzzzzzzzz"
Hubby:" Snoooooooore....we-we-we-we."
Dog: "Snuuzzzzzzz, whimper-whimper, snuerk."
Hubby: "Snooore, crinkshaw, pa-wa-pa-wsnooooore."
Dog: "Grrrrr...yip-yip.....whineeeeee."
Me: "It's okay, Beo. (He has nightmares.)"
Hubby: "Snerk, wha-huh?...snooooooore."
Dog: "Grrr...whine...snooooaarky."

I would have slept in the spare but the bed is full of junk and I didn't feel like moving it. Finally Beo concurred his nemeses and hubby rolled over. I've laughed myself to sleep.

ENOUGH!!

Aside from being a complete freak of nature, Lance Armstrong is a phenomenal athlete, so just get over it already! I don't understand why a bunch of needle-nosed, spineless pricks want to prove he used dope to win any of his 7 Tour de France races. He's already proven without a doubt that he didn't. They just keep beating that dead horse hoping it'll come back to life someday.

He didn't use. Plain and simple. Lying, staging, and planting evidence isn't going to make it true. Tiring the public and the media with a bunch of useless crap isn't going to make it true. We have more important issues to deal with, people. Life has gone on after Lance retired so put on the big girl panties and deal with it.

Vacation Ho!

I'm going to Savannah for my birthday. It's going to be so fun I'll say it again -- I'M GOING TO SAVANNAH FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!

You might be asking, "What's so special about Savannah?"

Well, let me tell you. Savannah is the place where I learned to grow up. It's the place I found love with an extraordinary man and with a group of people who called themselves caterers. I learned the satisfaction of being dog tired at the end of the day but knowing I'd done a good job. I met a woman who would change my outlook on life and worked for the bitch for over a year (love ya!). I was also introduced to a way of life that I had never before experienced - laid back.

I learned the difference between rich and wealthy. I learned how to drink. I also discovered how beautiful a city can be by it's architecture and gardening. There is no style like old world style. I was let into some of the finest homes in the city and also hung out in some of the crappiest. And I found out what it is like to live near water. Standing on the beach next to an ocean is the definition of feeling small. It's a whole different atmosphere and for almost three years I was a part of it. Being in the South never really leaves you once you let it into your heart. I feel a piece of me is missing and I get it back in Savannah.

It's also a bonus to be able to stay with two really good friends who have a gorgeous house and pamper us completely. If I could take my job with me I'd move back to Savannah in a heartbeat.
That is why I'm so happy to be going back and I can't wait.

9/11

I baby sat my nephew this weekend and he told me that no women died in the World Trade Center bombing (he's 6).

"Oh yeah? Why not?"
"Because when the plane hit all the women got out."
"No men got out?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because the women were quicker and the men wanted to stay behind to see what would happen next."

Five years and we still remember. Every one of us.

Pop-in-the-eye-zee

Everyone is talking about the reporter that got beat up recently. This brings to light a topic I have secretly debated with myself for a long time. Should reporters, and more importantly, journalists and paparazzi be protected by the same laws every day people are protected by?

(First of all let me say that I am not talking about those who do a good job and respect others as they gather evidence and facts. There are good reporters out there and the reason they are good is because they are also decent.)

Reporters, journalists, and photo-hogs treat people in a way that most of us wouldn't treat our own families. They ask hurtful, snide questions, expose private issues, and basically make a nuisance of themselves all for the sake of getting a story. They purposefully make people angry in an attempt to create a story if none exists. They have blocked cars, invaded homes, and even rent helicopters just to get closer to a celebrity/man- woman-of-the-hour. Given that this is the way they chose to behave I think it should be alright to knock their fucking block off every once in a while.

If you are going to shove a camera, microphone, or tape recorder in my face, ask me embarrassing or hurtful questions about my own private actions, and call me names when I refuse to answer I should have some recourse. I should be able to cold-cock anyone within two feet of my space. There should be a decency clause on assault. If one can prove that the offender was being a supreme prick the violence should be justified.

As it is these scum-bags can pretty much do anything they want while crying, "Freedom of the press!" If one does touch them, they have the court on their side. How is this fair? If a regular person were to behave this way they could be arrested for harassment.

If you choose to make targets out of other people, you should carry a big ol' target on your back as well. Perhaps if the veil of protection were lifted these assholes would think twice about their horrible actions. We squish cockroaches without punishment, why can't we squish them?

Beo after a hard day. 

I was trying to take another photo of Beo when someone else wanted to get involved. 

WOW!

Check this kid out. He's amazing. Not only for what he's done in his chair, but for the fact that he didn't let his chair stop him from doing it in the first place. So many would just sit at home bitching and complaining about their loss than just accepting it and going on.

I don't know anything about this kid, I just saw him today on Break.com, but he is an inspiration to me already. The next time I'm feeling down and out I'm going to remember this kid. And he's only a baby! Imagine what he'll be doing a few years from now.

That's it, I'm learning how to weld and I'm making this kid a chair. A cool one that he can ride around in when he's not doing incredible things.

Hello All

I didn't know my nephew went on a trip.

Here in St. Louis there was a small matter concerning a dead puppy and one outraged bitch. Apparently the dog died shortly after it's new owner brought it home. Instead of dealing with the fact that nature took it's course, said owner went back to the puppy farmer and proceeded to beat her about the head and face with the dead dog. At trial, which took an hour, the judge found her guilty of assault and could sentence her to 18 months of prison. That's all? 18 months? Obviously this lady has anger issues. It takes a certain kind of cold heart to rub a dead puppy in someone's face. Where is the counseling? How about a psyschiatric evaluation? But this is what blows my mind, after the verdict she showed reporters a picture of her new dog.

How can she be allowed to own a pet? Look what she did with the last one. If her new dog pees on the rug is shegoing to swing it around by its tail? Maybe throw it into a tree or something? Her ownership rights should be revoked. Angry people like that snap at stupid shit (I should know), there's no way I'd led another dog be under her care.

Class

School has started and I am taking two classes this semester, Body Conditioning and Playwriting 101. My body conditioning class is not what I thought it would be. I thought it would be a little more vigorous, like an aerobics class, but instead we mostly roll around on the floor and stretch. This is a good thing because if we bounced around half the class would look like the dancing hippos in Fantasia.

I had my first playwriting class last night. The class consists of five people: moi, a 16-year-old high schooler, a 40-something mother and two men well past the age of 50. Our professor is a Hemmingway reject still attached to the bottle. This is going to be fun!

The 16-year-old, Perky, is from Ladu. Ladu is the area of St. Louis that has the highest house market value. Actually, Ladu is pretty much up there with Beverly Hills and the Hamptons. Rich people, usually spoiled and arrogant, flow freely from Ladu like diamonds on black velvet. The fact that Perky already knows what she wants to do at the tender age of 16 makes me want to hate her even more. But I can't...Yet.

The mother, Pinky (as she was head to toe pink last night) opened her mouth and out poured my mother-in-law. She even laughed and said "Um" just like my mother-in-law. Yet she looks absolutely nothing like her. It's hard for me to concentrate on what she is saying because I keep waiting for her to rip off the mask. It's very distracting.

G-man, the oldest of the old guys, is an accomplished actor and a very nice man. He's easy going and very creative so I look forward to spending time with him.

Then there is Ass-kisser. Ass-kisser is a banker from Ladu. He is the epitome of Ladu - wealthy, snotty, egotistical, and judgmental. He looked over our class and quickly dismissed all of us except for G-man. He knows who G-man is, so we spent two hours listening to him gush on and on about how wonderful G-man is.

"So, Ass-kisser, what do you think the writer is trying to say with this pantomime?"

"I don't know, but I just want to say how wonderful it is to be in the presence of such an accomplished actor. I really enjoy watching you work."

"Um, yeah, that's great. What about the pantomime?"

"I'm not a very imaginative man, not nearly as imaginative as G-man. Have I mentioned how wonderful he is? I really think he's wonderful."

You'd think a man with five children (two graduated from Harvard and one from Princeton, don't ya know) would be a little quicker on his feet. He couldn't answer one question so the Prof. Finally stopped asking him.

I think I will enjoy this class. We had to write a pantomime before we left class, I chose to write about a woman giving herself a bikini wax for the first time. I hope he likes it. I have to write a 5 minute silent movie act for next class. Hmmm, not exactly my generation. Maybe I'll cheat and watch the silent movie channel tonight.

Strange Dreams Are Made of This

I had a whopper last night. I was with my old friend Fabian, whom I have not seen for a long time. He was an athlete, so we were in an Olympic like atmosphere. There was this mountain thingy that we had to climb (he beat me, of 'course) and once on top we sat down and talked and laughed like we used to. Suddenly I see a KTVI news van flying through the air. It dropped out of sight with a tinny "ting."

The sky grew dark and the wind began to blow. Fabian and I raced down the mountain to get away from the storm. Suddenly I am in a panel van with my husband and we are racing down the city streets trying to get away from the tornado. Our van is pushed over on its side and we skid to a stop into a city bus. Only this bus is full of freaks who come into our van (now more like a motor home) and start to steal our stuff. We yell at them to stop but they won't, so I reach over and break the neck of a young girl to show them I mean business. They start to rattle our van and end up pushing us back onto the road. Hubby and I try to race across a bridge but the tornado is upon us and takes the bridge out from under us. We fall into the water and manage to get out of the van, but the water is full of chunks of lava and burning chuncks of bridge. We manage to make it to the wet lands (yeah, in MISSOURI) and fall onto the shore.

About that time the dog started shining in his sleep and the dream was gone. Can't say I missed it.

Hello All - Goodbye Steve

Well, duh! I guess it is true that Washington doesn't know what's going on in the world until a poll is taken. Anyone with half a brain could spend 1 day on the streets and know this country is angry. Morons.

I'm really sad that Steve Irwin died. He was a bit of a dumbass at times but he was highly entertaining. He brought attention to the plight of an animal not cute and cuddly but just as deserving of conservation. I really feel sorry for his wife. Not only will she have to deal with the death of her husband, but with his celebrity she won't be able to get away from it. Her house is in the middle of the zoo they worked in together. Everyone knows her face and the faces of her children. I know the public means well, but they will not leave her alone. She'll have to go into hiding if she wants some peace. It's all so sad.

Ragzilla

I wish I could do something for Alissa. Her mother-in-law has a first class ticket on the crazy train. I wish there was a way one family could commit a member because they have proven themselves unstable. Or maybe just commit her because she's being a mega-bitch. Do they have mega-bitch homes? Maybe they should.

And what is Alissa's boyfriend doing about his mother? He's leaving town. Yep, seems if things get to heavy he turns tail and runs leaving Alissa to deal with the mess. Alissa could use a vacation but does he care about that? Nope, just as long as he takes care of himself. Did I tell you he's refused to help out with his brother's house? Because of him little feelings getting hurt he's letting his crippled father, batty mother, the widow, and Alissa do all the work. Forget the fact that he's young and in shape, oh no, all that matters is him gets his way.

I hope Alissa and I will have some time this holiday weekend to just sit back and relax. She deserves it. Maybe we'll have the widow join us, get them both away from crazy-ass mother-in-law. Have fun, all.