Oh, Come On!

Yesterday a family in St. Louis (Lemay, actually, which is very close to where I live) found the dead bodies of three of their relatives. The family and police have been looking for them for several days. See, there was a shoot-out with an insane man a week ago on top of the house. When police found the residents of the home to be missing they put out an all-points bulletin and initiated a search.

Hey, what's this here? Behind these suspiciously hung clothes, why, is that a closet? And that foul smell emanating from it, what could that be? Lookey there, three dead bodies.

How could the police have missed them? Easy, they didn't look. They poked around the house and looked in the shed then threw their hands up in the air and decided three people must be missing.

The worst thing about this is the police told the family they did a thorough search of the house and grounds. They insisted they had looked everywhere. They wouldn't let the family back into the house because it was a crime scene. Once it was released, the family looked around for themselves and that's when the bodies were discovered. Can you say "liar?"

The police were lazy, pure and simple. They didn't give a shit to look around because they had already surmised that the family was missing. Once they had that idea in their head no other was allowed. Now they look like a bunch of dumbasses with their thumbs up their butts. Someone is going to get reamed for this, even fired. But it showcases a problem the police have had for years.

Shitty police work. There are good cops out there, don't get me wrong, but when the lead cop or a majority of cops are egotistical assholes the whole investigation is fucked. I'm sure the fact that the family was poor and not-white has something to do with it as well. Yeah, yeah, overworked, underpaid, not appreciated, I'm sure there are plenty of excuses but the bottom line is three people rotted away in a closet until their family took the time to find them. This is a mistake and it needs to be investigated.

Documentaries

I saw in the news that big businesses are afraid of documentaries and what they expose to the public. This particular article talked of the poverty riddled workers who pick coffee in Ethiopia. While they live and die in squalor, big companies like Starfucks, I mean, Starbucks make huge profits. Shortly after the release of this film Starbucks set up a human rights committee and met with the head honcho of Ethiopia. Oh, but it's not because of the film, it's purely coincidental.

Uh-huh.

Big companies thing we're stupid. They sit around and think of ways to make us, the buyers, spend our money. They lie, cheat, and manipulate the public in order to make a profit. Only they call it "marketing." They don't care about anything but the bottom line. And they don't want you knowing how they operate. They strive to keep everyone in the dark. Act like nice little lemmings and everything will be fine. If you try to poke holes in the darkness the next thing you know you're surrounded by lawyers. Big companies pay big money to keep their secrets safe.

These documentary makers skirt the whole issue and go to the bottom line. They record real life as it happens, they interview real people with legitimate complaints, and they expose the process of making something as cheaply as possible and selling it for as much as possible.

Once those secrets are revealed big companies still consider us stupid. They change or implement operating procedures and expect us to believe they did it by out of the kindness of their hearts. It's all a big coincidence, like we can't put two and two together. They should fear documentaries because they offer the public what big companies won't - the truth.

Big companies don't care about the population. They don't produce goods to make our lives easier. They don't care about the impact their products have on us or the environment, they don't care about the families that depend on their workers. Big companies care about one thing, money, and that is very dangerous. When a company is not making money they find a way to fix that problem. So what if they had to fire 20,000 employees, they are making a profit.

They should be questioned. They should have the public scrutinize their business practices. They shouldn't be able to get away with the violations that occur every single day. Bravo, documentary makers, keep up the good work.

It's About Damn Time

It's about damn time that black leaders stand up and address the N-word in their community.

How conceited is it for an entire race to claim the sole usage of one word? And, knowing that word is so outrageously offensive, how can they have the balls to use it among themselves as a term of endearment, a joke, or a greeting? It has been a hypocritical issue that's gone largely ignored by the black people of this nation. We can say it, you cannot.

Bullshit.

White people do not have a word like this. If a black man enters a room full of white people and says, "Honky." He'll get a few looks but mostly he will be ignored. I know Mexicans don't like being called Spics, Chinese do not appreciate being called Chinks, but I have never seen a riot break out by either of these races if the word is used. The only other race I can think of that responds so violently to a word are the Italians if you call them a Ginny (If you are Italian could you please tell me why this word is so offensive. What is a Ginny, where did the word originate, and how did it become such an insult?).

But no, black people have been using the N-word with free license for years but corner the market in offended if anyone else uses the word. YOU CAN'T DO THAT. If you don't like the word dripping from other races lips, don't use it on your own. That's the way smart people act. Logical people realize that if you insist on making that word a part of your culture than your going to hear it all the time, from everyone. If you truly want to get rid of the word, stop using it. Don't let your family or friends use it, either.

Yes, it is that simple.

And That's How They GET You

I like Amazon.com. I buy a lot from there, either new or used, and I have never had a problem.

Until now.

I ordered three ***** for my dad. If you order $25 or more from Amazon.com you get free shipping. Great! So I qualified and patted myself on the back for getting something free. I would like to stress at that time I did not get any warning about the following problem.

I went back to see when my *****s would ship and a big red warning told me "This item will arrive AFTER Dec. 25th." Huh? It's still November. Why would I have to wait over a month to get my *****s? I changed my option to standard shipping (i.e I pay for it) and what do you know! I will now get my *****s by the 14th.

How is this fair? I see, if you want free shipping you will get your crap after Christmas, but if you want it before then you HAVE to pay for it. That's the scam Amazon is running, folks, so don't get sucked in.

Cause and Effect

Dear Barbarian,

My husband won't pay attention to me. He's too involved playing video games to pay attention to me and the kids. I love him and I want him to be happy, but I need quality time, too, or I'm unhappy. What should I do? I know you've had experience with this. Please help.

Widow of Warcraft

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear WOW,

First, ship your kids off to their real father. It's obvious your current husband isn't their father. If he were you would be much angrier. He had enough time to get you pregnant but not to help you raise the little brats? Oh hell no. Once you have the pups out of the house you can really concentrate on getting your husband's attention.

Second, throw a fit. Yell, cry (crying is very important), throw things (preferably breakable), wave your arms about like a crazy woman and scream, scream, scream! Throw a suitcase on the bed and start tossing your clothes into it. Start saying things about his manhood. I always like to use, "You made promises you can't keep. You're not a man, you're a boy. A sniveling, selfish, lazy, stupid, impotent little boy!" Feel free to use your own. Be sure to include what a miserable failure he is for getting so involved in make-believe. Close it with you hope your children will never grow up to be like him. (You might add that he'll never find a woman who will put up with his shit like you, but only if it's true.)

By the end of your tirade he should be on his knees begging you to stay and making promises on how good he'll be in the future. This will last about three weeks. Enjoy it while you can.

If he's not on his knees begging for forgiveness take your shit and leave. He'll never stop playing the game and you're better off without him. Even if you have to live off welfare, you're still better off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Barbarian,

How do you get blood out of white clothes?

Mr. X

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mr. X,

I told you to never contact me here. Why the hell were you wearing white clothes? Didn't I stress the importance of dark colors? The only option you have now is to burn said whites. And make sure you scatter the ashes this time. Jeez.

Catalogs

I get about a bazillion catalogs each year, most around this time. I've noticed something that I find disturbing. When you browse through these things there are a lot of items one can buy with their favorite football teams logo/color/mascot on them. That is, if your an Oakland, Pittsburgh, Dallas, New England, or Green Bay fan. If you're not, then TOUGH.

Why these teams? What are you to do if you're a Rams fan? Or, by some sick twist of genetic mutation, a Tampa Bay fan? No blankets, food bowls, clocks, or bobble head Santas wearing a team jersey for you. You don't get the flannel pajamas or Christmas ornaments. Your house will be bare of T-shirts, picture frames, and aprons, coffee cups, dolls, puzzles, jackets, beer mugs, or bar stools.

And who picks these teams? Why the freaking Cowboys? If your not in Texas you're not going to buy that shit. What, they can only create five logo templates? Oakland is sucking balls this year, why not replace them with a team that is doing well, like the Colts. I want an explanation, then an apology. I am a Rams fan. I'm not ashamed to say it, nor would I be ashamed to wear it if some manufacturer out there got their head out of their asses and learned what the word "specify team" means. This is a large country, five piddly teams ain't gonna cut it.

Again with the Dumbasses

On my way to work I pass three school bus stops. This morning I passed before the bus arrived. I saw a little girl, maybe 7 or 8, standing on the corner wearing a short little tennis skirt. Hello? It's 34 degrees and some crack-head of a mother let her 7 or 8 year old child wear a flimsy, cotton tennis skirt?!

This is the type of woman who needs DFS called on her. This is the type of woman who needs not to have children. Any dumbass whore who has a daughter should damn well know how to dress her.

And don't give me any crap about how maybe the daughter wanted to wear that skirt and the mother is teaching her a lesson. No, when your kid is 7 or 8 you still get to tell them how to dress. You have to stand up, be the bad guy, and force your child into a pair of pants. That's being a parent. That's keeping the welfare of your child above that child's sense of independence. When that little girl is 15 her mother won't have any say-so on dressing, so she better get it out now.

The high today is only going to be 53. 53! Luckily, I didn't see any bruises on those little bare legs or I would have pulled over, picked her up, driven her to the police station, and stayed until I saw what type of white-trash ignorant-ass slut came to get her.

Honestly, how much can leg-warmers cost? I think I'll buy a pair and keep them in my car. That way at least SOMEONE will be taking care of this child.

Happy Days

Hubby did not touch the computer at all last night, I was very glad. We had a nice evening together at home.

OJ's book and show were cancelled. What a horrible idea, the woman who approved this whole mess should be fighting for her job. Anyone who could possibly think this would be a good idea on any level must have some serious issues.

Bush is on his way to Hawaii to talk to the troops. Ooooooh, I hope he doesn't come across a hostile pineapple. Nothing like going right to the heart of the matter, eh? When was the last time Bush went to Iraq? I mean, the boys there are the ones living out most of the horror. It makes perfect sense to skirt around them and visit the troops that are in absolutely no danger.

A bus fell off a brdige in Huntsville, AL, and they think the cause may have been another teenager driving an orange celica. Seems the asshole behind the wheel collided with the bus and pushed it over. That teenager should be beaten witihin an inch of his life, then tied up and thrown off the very same brdige the buss met. If he/she survives they can live the rest of their miserbale lives knowing they killed at least 3 people with their driving skills. If they don't survive, oh well, we're better off without them in society.

Ta.

Dear Husband,

I was very lonely this weekend. I appreciated the great meals you fixed for me and for accompanying me on our grocery errands, but the rest of the time I was alone and it sucked.

You were in the house. You just weren't there.

So with as much love and respect as I can muster I say:

ENOUGH WITH THE FUCKING VIDEO GAMES!!!!!!

You touch that machine tonight and you will live in a private hell for the next month. I promise.

Your loving wife, The Barbarian.

Okay

For those of you who held President Egghead's stupidity in question, please read this.

Yeah, um, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't almost EVERYONE involved in Vietnam come out and say what a complete mistake it was? Wasn't there a book written on how many different ways we fucked ourselves in that "conflict?" And, correct me if I'm wrong, but we didn't win that "conflict," did we?

Nope, we finally smartened up and realized we were completely useless and, after thousands of needless deaths, we finally tucked our tails between our legs and got the fuck out.

I guess that's Bush's policy. We'll wait until it is so overwhelmingly obvious that we're not going to win at all, we'll wait until there is American blood flowing down the streets of Iraq, before we finally give up and get our guys out of there.

I'm so glad that bastard is leaving office soon. Just not soon enough.

Great Moments In Bitchery-ry-ry!

First of all, the song I was referencing last post was "Mother" by Danzig, har-har-har.

Do not mess with a woman and her cookies. Last night I ate a lot, late, so I said I wasn't going to eat anything bad today. Then the campus bookstore emails us and lets us know that employees will have a 50% discount on all baked goods today. We have a bakery here, I guess they made way to much good stuff and needed to clear space. So off to the bookstore I go in search of a present for my father and a cookie.

Oatmeal raisin cookies are my favorite. I will do shameful things for an oatmeal raisin cookie. (My husband knows this and enjoys it.) So I find a ******* for my dad, drop by the cookie table, grab a big, fat o-r cookie and head to the checkout.

Staff discounts must be logged, I don't know why. We have to sign our name every time. So I make my purchases, give them my employee ID, sign the paper, wait while the two clerks solve some billing problem for another customer, get my bag, and leave the store. I'm barely outside when I reach in the bag for my cookie.
Cookie?
Hellooooo, cookie?

No cookie!

I run back in the store to find my lost snack. It's on my receipt, I paid for it, and I want it now. I patiently wait while the person at my teller finishes their transaction. I step up to her only to be accosted by some small sorority slut in a freaking pair of shorts.
"Excuse me, I was next."
"I'm sorry, but I didn't get all of my items. This will take a second. Have you seen my cookie?"
The teller looks confused.
"I just bought this ******* and I had a cookie, too, but my cookie is not in the bag."
The teller looks at my receipt and goes in search of the missing morsel. I get a big sigh from Pi Beta Sluta. The teller looks all over her counter, on the back counter, and under the cash register. No cookie.
"I don't see it, are you sure you didn't get it?"
"I wouldn't come back here if I had. Besides, it's the size of a Frisbee, how could I misplace it?"
So she calls out, "Has anyone seen a cookie back here?"
Utter silence.
Blank stares.
Another sigh from Pi Beta Sluta.
"Well, I'll just wait over here while you look for it."
So I graciously step to the side and allow Pi Beta Sluta to buy her magazine and soda. Then I watch as two more people cash out. Still no cookie.

Just so you know, my patience has a limit, and I reached it about the time I walked back through the door. I felt I held on as long as I could.

"Excuse me, but have you found my cookie?"
"Oh, no. Why don't you get another one."
Great. I go back to the table. No oatmeal raisin cookies left.

"There are no oatmeal raisin cookies left. Are you sure you don't have it back here?"
"No, ma'am, I've looked (she hadn't). Don't you like chocolate chip?"
"I love chocolate chip. But I like oatmeal raisin much better. I want my cookie."
"I can give you your money back."
"I. Want. My. COOKIE!"
Silence unrivaled by that of an Egyptian tomb falls upon the bookstore.
A small voice squeaks up, "Is this it?"
Back by the paperwork we have to sign for discounts is my cookie. In plain sight. Right there waiting for me to claim it. Squeaky hands me my cookie and all is well in the Barbarian horde once again.

They probably have my ID number and photo taped like a wanted poster to every register now.

The cookie was delish.

Do You Want To Bang Heads With Me?

I'm not very pleased with my mother right now. I'm not mad, I'm not even perturbed, just not pleased.

My mother's favorite holiday is Christmas. So in July she started asking my sister and I what we wanted to do for it. "Are we going to Kentucky (grandparent), Alabama (my parents), or going to St. Louis (me and sis)?"

Here is what my mother said then. "Oh, I don't care, you girls talk it over and get back to me. I'll do whatever you guys decide."

Uh-huh.

So it was decided that Christmas would be in St. Louis at my house. A couple of days ago my mother calls and asks, "Have you gotten with everyone and decided just when you're going to have Christmas?"
Me - "Not really, but I thought we'd do ours on Christmas Eve at my house."
Mom - "Oh, but I'm spending Christmas eve and day with mother. We'll come into St. Louis late Christmas day."

Thank you so much for making it our decision. Oh, wait, it wasn't our decision, was it?

So here is my decision. Christmas eve will be with hubby's mom. Christmas day will be with hubby's dad. My family's Christmas will occur the morning of the 26th. We're having it at my house. Food will be served.

Can you guess the name of the song I am referencing in my title?

Stop Your Bitchin!

I'm sorry, but all these people mad at Borat, saying they were duped by him and the show, must be the most retarded people on the planet

"Oh, I didn't see them cameras. I didn't know that the various people surrounding me at the time were filming. All those, "Take two. Let's try it again." I didn't understand what them people was saying. All them microphones, camera's, lights, and production assistants escaped my attention completely. There I was in the middle of filming and I didn't even knowd it. $12 million, your honor."

GET OVER IT! You useless boobs are just trying to cash in on someone elses' success. And that Internet asshole who thinks he was the real Borat, well, I didn't see YOU in front of a camera, did I? I guess you'll just have to speak up next time, huh?

Tootin and Puking

I had a very strange day yesterday. I woke up and came to work just fine, but around 10:30 I started feeling cold, hot, and dizzy. About 11am I started throwing up in my trash can, so I called my boss and told her I was going home. When I got in the car the shits hit me.

It was a race with the devil to get home. I am driving my father-in-law's car and I was not going to puke or poop in it. So I screech into my drive way, jump out of the car, and start watering the bushes right outside my house. (White tea tastes just as good the second time as it does the first.) Right in the middle of this I hear, "Ya all right?"

I look over to see our elderly neighbor the Widower. He's wearing cow boy boots, a rain coat, and nothing else. That image dried up both ends pretty damn quick.

I took a long nap and ate some bread. I felt better. My best friend calls me about 2:30pm and tells me my car has broken down. Again. In a crappy-ass part of the city. For the next hour I am the call center between Alissa, my husband, and me. She managed to park the car at one of her company's lots and found a ride home. Only thing is she left the hazard lights flashing. We would have had a dead battery by morning, so now I have to drive and meet her in order to get the keys.

I pile my oh-so-pretty butt into Pa's car and proceed to get lost trying to find my way to Gravois Bluffs. I finally find Alissa and get the keys, then drive back and wait for hubby. He arrives, we drive to the lot where my poor car is dying, and he starts it right up. Huh? It drove great...until we got to the highway. Seems it may have eaten some bad gas, anything over 40 mph produced sputtering and coughing. We limp our way home and spend the rest of the night talking car options with Alissa.

She picks up her new Dodge Charger today. Yipee! Now I drive the piece-of-crap in the family. Not so yipee. Alissa bought me a really cool T-shirt. Yippee again.

Barbarian's Recipe for Pumpkin Pie

Get one pumpkin, 8 - 10 inches around.
Find recipe on internet, write down word for word.
Realize you don't have all the spices you need.
Go to store and get spices.
Realize you don't have the milk that you will need.
Go back to store and get milk.
Wait until weekend as recipe requires a lot of time.


Wash and dry the pumpkin.
Find serated kitchen knife to cut pumpkin in half.
Realize knife will not work, get bigger knife.
Realize bigger knife may skip off hard surface of pumpkin and cut off fingers.
Go back to smaller knife.
Hack, chop, and stab a slit into side of pumpkin.
Grab cleaver, wedge in crack, whack pumpkin against kitchen counter until it finally bursts open.
Clean as many seeds off the floor, cabinets, and counter before dog licks them up.
Clean gunk of microwave and stove before it dries.
Drink one beer to celebrate your victory over pumpkin.

Scoop out seeds and place them in bowl of water. Set aside.
Place pumpkin halves in microwave safe dish. Pour in two inches of water.
Place in microwave.
Realize pan is just too big for microwave. Door will close, but pan will bump against microwave walls and doors, driving you crazy.
After 15 minutes, check on pumpkin.
Burn fingers on pan.
Spill hot water down the front of you.
Put pumpkin back in for 10 minutes.

Take hot pumpkin from microwave, burn fingers again.
Berate yourself for burning fingers again.
Scoop hot ass pumpkin from shell.
Place in bowl.
Set aside.
Drink another beer to cool off burned fingers.

Take 3/4 cup crisco and 1.5 cup flour, mix in bowl.
Arms tire from mixing dough.
Add a bit of water to create dough.
Arms begin to shake from effort.
Take dough out and roll into big circle, or what would be a big circle if edges didn't keep breaking off. Pack, push, and spread dough into something that will cover the pie pan.
Cut off excess. Put ball of leftover dough in mouth.
Spit horrible dough in the trash can and drink one full beer to erase taste from mouth.
Mix pie ingredients well and pour into pie pan.
Remember oven was supposed to be heated to 400. Turn oven on and wait 10 minutes.
Discover you forgot to add sugar to mixture. Pour pie back in bowl, mix in sugar, and repour.
Oven will be hot by now.
Place pie in oven and back 10 minutes at 400. Lower temp of oven to 350 and cook for another 50 minutes.
Drink another beer now that the worst is over.
Forget about pie while doing laundry.
80 minutes later pull pie out of oven and hope it's not burnt.

Take nap and vow to buy canned pumpkin from now on.

G'bye Jack

Jack Palance died! I'm so sad, I loved him as an actor. My dad resembled Jack Pallance and has always shared his gruff, tough guy image. Fooey, I'm really bummed.

I spent a lot of time with Alissa this weekend. She and I had a great time Friday night. You know you're best friends when you can make each other laugh to the point one of you shits your pants. Then the other laughs about it the whole way home. And lends you some clean pants.

Ta.

A little more...

In regards to my post below I want to clarify something.

You may read what's below and think I don't care for my sister. It is because I care that I wrote what I did. Do you think I don't know how pissed-off she's going to be? Answer = very.

So why did I write it? I needed to say it. This topic has kept me up at night. I worry for my sister. I know what she's had to live through. I know her whole history, the sad and happy, short and long of it.

My sister deserves a happy life. She deserves to be relaxed and comfortable by this age. She should come home to a safe, happy home. She deserves to be healthy and vibrant and in love with her life. She deserves nice clothes. She deserves to drive whatever car she wants and plan a yearly vacation. She deserves to be able to go out with her friends and family and not worry about each penny spent. She deserves to be able to give her child whatever she wants without having to worry where the money is going to come out of. And if she wants to go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant she should be able to do it. Money is a huge part of your life when you don't have much.

Having to worry about money can drive one crazy. My sister isn't immune, for a few months I swear she had a headache every single day. M not having a job is a strain on their lives and relationship. She deserves better. The way my sister can budget, if M got a job they'd be set. They'd be able to go on vacations and remodel their house the way they want.

I can't just sit back and say nothing. She's my sister. Am I wrong to want better for her? Am I wrong to be angry that she doesn't have it? I think M doesn't deserve her. I think he needs to work to earn her. If that's wrong, then so am I.

Hey, Mooch, let's have a chat, shall we?

I visited Savannah, GA, and found a job before I actually moved to the state. My soon-to-be husband was a student, I knew there was no way he could support both of us. And I didn't want it that way. I feel that if you are old enough to get a job, get one. There are no alternatives.

The job I secured turned out to be a bad one, and I was shortly fired (not my fault, honest, my "trainer" quit the day I started and left me holding the bag. New town, new people, different world - me fired). It wasn't until a month later that I found another job.

During that time I wouldn't buy anything for myself. I felt guilty eating and using electricity. I spent every day in pursuit of employment. I felt horrible buying a bottle of hair conditioner. Why? Because every penny I spent was not my own. I wasn't earning my keep and it bugged the shit out of me. I felt absolutely horrible that hubby was footing the bill for everything. Beer, red meat, magazines; I considered these things luxuries and I couldn't have them until I bought them myself. I sent out resumes, made endless phone calls, and at the end of the day organized what I was going to do the next day. Finding a job WAS my job.

It's too damn bad not everyone feels this way. I have been stewing over this topic for the past few weeks and it's time to dish. My sister's boyfriend, M, has not had a job for the last three years. Yes, YEARS. He lives off my sister's salary completely. Oh, he says he's looking for a job, but sitting on your ass for four months and then sending out a resume here and there isn't exactly pounding the pavement, is it?

M is a good guy. He's a nice guy. He cares for my sister and my nephew. He's just lazy as hell. His efforts to find a job would make some of you snort liquid out your nose. He doesn't mind at all that my sister is working herself to the bone in order to support her family. How do I know this?

See, M likes to drink. He's no alcoholic, but for someone who doesn't have a job he buys an awful lot of alcohol. See where I'm going with this? M buys himself a lot of luxuries. With my sister's money. My sister who, right before Halloween, had to tell my nephew that he couldn't go trunk-or-treating with his classmates because they couldn't afford it.

Ah, the plot thickens.

That's right, my sister would have kept my nephew at home, but M has plenty to drink. Does this make sense to you, because it makes no damn sense to me. My sister is poor. Not welfare poor, but close, and this clod is drinking? Does anyone else think this is just a big, steaming pile of bullshit?

Rant time - I guess M is just too good to work. He's too good to be a waiter or work at McDonald's. He's too good to clean toilets, work in construction, be a mover, be a landscaper, become a painter, be a cashier, stock shelves, wash cars, pick up trash, deliver mail, or anything else that doesn't involve computers. When I needed extra money I cleaned toilets for four hours a night. You do what you have to do.

My sister will come up with 100 excuses as to why M does not have a job. But three years? C'mon, even a blind man can see M isn't trying too damn hard. This is St. Louis, not Savannah.

There is no way I could live off someone else's charity for three years. I don't want anyone doing something for me out of pity. To listen to my sister talk about money problems, than see her big goof of a boyfriend knocking them back makes me sick. How can someone be so damn lazy?

Deep inside I fear my sister may not want M to have a job because she thinks if he has his own money he'll leave her. She's been hurt, ain't no argument there, but would you want to live with a guy who only sticks around because he's too poor to move on? Where is the love in that?

I love my sister, and I only want what is best for her. Two people could live on my sister's salary much better than three, but my sis will never dump this guy, so until she has enough he'll keep mooching off her and sitting on his ass. It's not hard to find a job, you just have to be willing to do the work. My sister does not have to live the way she is living. But she chooses to, so all I can do is rant on this here blog and try not to scream the next time she complains about her life.

Blessed Be!

Stem Cell research looks like it passed. I'm so pleased. All those ignorant, sign-carrying, hate-spewing bastards can kiss my ass.

What a surprise that the smoking tax did not pass. That would be dripping with sarcasm. There are so many nasty-ass smokers in this state that a law like this will never pass. If you want to live smoke-free you'll have to move states. What these stupid assholes can't understand is if a pack of cigarettes is too expensive, younger people won't start. But oh NO! All these redneck fucks see is the price of dem cigarettes goin up. Shiiiiit, that might cut into ma beer money. I won't be able to see no kiddie porn if I have ta pay more money for smokes.

The democrats have taken an advantage in the house. I think Jim Talent got the big ol' middle finger from Missouri yesterday. He brought Bush and everyone he could think of to Missouri in order to help his campaign. Guess he should have left history's worst president in Washington.

I want to talk about the way we vote. Why, oh why, do we have to try and electonisize (it's my word) everything? Hmmmm? What was wrong with the way we used to vote? Oh, that's right, it took too much time. So now we want to use unsafe, un-proven, hackable, and highly suspicious ways to vote so we can save an hour out of our year.

Last election I was in and out of my voting place in less than 10 minutes. I walked in, proved who I was, got my ballot, made my votes, and left. Yesterday, with the technology created to save us time, I stood in line for an hour. Yeah, that worked great, thank a bunch!

There are some things in this world not meant to be made easy. Paper ballots leave a record in case any voting comes into question. With a computer you're fucked. Not only can someone corrupt the program, but they'll figure out how to manipulate the actual voting machine as well. And those companies counting the votes? Do you think they aren't receiving any money from the government? Who trusts them? I don't. In the old days voting was time consuming, but it was CORRECT! You didn't see Nixon going to the Supreme Court to win his presidency.

What is wrong with us? Are we so dependent on computers and technology that we can't even do the simplest of things without having to use them? Selecting who runs our country is a very important thing. We should take all the time and care we need to in order to make sure it's done right. Screw the damn computers. I want a record of my vote, so give me paper, please. And give me a better way for those papers to be counted. Don't waste my time with bullshit.

Yeah, that's right, I called computer voting bullshit. What you going to do about it? Just because we have computers does not mean we have to use them for EVERYTHING!

It's not worth the hassle, folks. It didn't save us time. Because of the glitches and long lines a lot of votes were not cast. How could that have changed the outcome? Don't know. People are too busy patting themselves on the back to see that they're creating more problems than they're solving.

Choppers

Our dog has developed a very strange habit lately. He likes to eat things. A couple of weeks ago he tore through not one but two of my journals. They were destroyed, gone, confetti. Sunday he managed to get one of the steaks my husband was preparing for supper. He ate the whole thing, stick and all (bacon wrapped fillet). That's going to hurt coming out, I can tell you.

In my department we have had some drama. On October 30 one of our brand new postdocs fell to the floor vomiting and convulsing. They rushed him to the hospital only to find he had an egg sized tumor on his brain. The doctors told him to make a will and notify his family. He's from England. His poor family rushed to America only to be told their son had a 10% chance of survival. The only thing giving him that 10% was the fact the tumor was on the outer side of his brain. Had it been on the inside he would have had 0% chance.

Monday, yesterday, he had the surgery. I'm glad to say that he made it through. Furthermore, he seems to be doing just great! He's talking and eating and having a grand ol' time. I'm so glad.

Here's to ya.

Get Out of my Head!

When I wake every morning there is a song in my head. I don't pick the song, it's just there. It can be anything from a Christmas carol to a toilet paper jingle. I can't control it, it just is. It's like having my very own jukebox stuck on random. There was one time I woke up for three days with Faith Hill's "Cry" in my mind. I decided if I woke up the fourth day with that song playing I'd shoot myself. I think the fourth day was "Cat Scratch Fever", so I was saved.

Sometimes I don't know the song very well so I'm stuck singing the same two or three lines over and over again until I can find another song to listen to. This morning was one of those times. Only instead of just having two lines repeating themselves, which is annoying enough, it was an insanely vulgar song as well.

"Come on, girl, let me get your..." agh, must... fight... self. "Come on girl, let me get your..." no, I will not sing this again. Think of any song, ANY song. C'mon, think! "Come on girl, let me get your..." STOP IT! Turn on the radio, quick, quick. Kelly Clarkson? Ugh, I'll stick with the vulgar.

I'm glad to say that Stevie Nicks "Room on Fire" has finally replaced la raunchy in my mind. Now I am at peace.

Beo's First Halloween

Last night was hard night. Little things smelling like make-up and candy kept coming to the door. I barked 'cuz that's what I'm supposed to do, but then mommy and daddy told me to shut-up. I was not allowed to sniff the big bowl daddy kept taking things out of. If them creatures wanted it, why can't I have it? Then the little one that kind of smells like mommy came over and poked me with a stick and kept playing with my magic red food dispenser. No food came out for him, either, so that was good. That's my bone-bone.

Mommy left but those things kept coming and daddy told me to shut-up again and again. Then mommy came home and made them all go away. No more creatures for me to bark at and red toy still not giving up any treats. Things kept moving outside my window and people still came through my yard. Bad people! Mommy and I trying to watch TV in here. I was very tired, daddy had to almost carry me to bedroom where I slept on pillow and dreamt I finally caught those smelly little things. They tasted good. Then it was morning and I had to pee.

Memories

Do you ever catch a certain smell or taste something that takes you back to a memory? I made a wonderful sandwich today out of a baggette (hard hoagie roll). When I took a bite I was immediately transported back to Germany. I was a young girl, I think 7th grade, and my sister was in High School. The whole school was going on a trip to some historical German city. We would be gone all day, thus we would need money for lunch.

My mother, being the authority on everything, gave my sister the money we would need to eat lunch. I guess I was just too darn stupid and untrustworthy to hold onto $5 for a whole day. Anyway, once we reached our destination my loving, responsible sister promptly disappeared...with the money. I didn't see her for the rest of the day, so when lunch rolled around I had maybe $.12 to my name.

Someone took pity on me and bought me a sandwich. It was on a baggette, and it was one of the best sandwiches I have ever tasted. I had completely forgotten about it until today. I guess the combo of roast beef, cheese, and roll was just right.

(When I finally found my sister I yelled at her for leaving me. I never got to yell, so I took full advantage of the situation. When we got home I got in trouble for yelling at and embarrassing my sister. She did not get in trouble for leaving me penniless.)

Let's Hear the Truth

Sen. Kerry made a boo-boo. Everyone is up in arms. But you know what? He spoke the truth. Do you see a lot of Congress and Senate kids going to war? Do you see the Bush twins over in Iraq? No. And why? Because the undereducated and poor DO end up in Iraq. Kerry spoke the truth, and now the White House wants him to apologize for it. I guess they're not used to hearing the truth over there in the White House.

Kerry should not apologize, but instead use this emotional, controversial topic to run again in 2008. It's about time someone exposed all the "icky" topics no one wants to talk about. Our corrupt government needs a big mirror to look into. It needs someone who will stand there and say, "Look. Look at what you did. Look at what you are. Do you like what you see?"

Is Kerry the guy to do this? Probably not, but it needs to be done.

Let us unite in universal celebration that Bush will soon be out of office. Let us say a prayer for the poor bastard that has to take his place.

SOME MORE TRUTH: Rev. Sharpton takes a stand. It is about DAMN time that someone told the christians how it is, and how it should be.