Saturday, April 30, 2011

I will drop kick your ass

Dear People of Friday.

To the 5'1'  E.R. Doctor that  suffered from a sever case of Dolphin syndrome) having his head so far up his ass he had a hole in the back of his neck so that he could breath).  I understand why you became a Dr.  You suffered from little man syndrome your entire life.  So you had to go to school so you could feel big and then you caught GOD syndrome and now unfortunately you have DICK syndrome.  I say this because when you step in the room after 5 hours of testing and say something about a major organ followed with the word organ and then step out of the room and I grab you in the hall way you don't tap my arm and go, "  sweetie" and run away.
This get's your tiny ass dropped kicked like Charlie Brown from Peanuts.  Please also know the nurses hate your freaking guts and wanted me to stomp you into a puddle of scrubs.   Good luck with the way everything works out for you dude.

ON the flip side-  Ms Kick Ass female DR that told the barbie nurse to shut her face hole and then said, " do you want to die or listen? " wow I love you.  nuff said.   Absolutely you should run that place. Also I would pay good money to watch you drop kick Dr Dick from the ER.

Dear Lazy Mother fucking Cop from TN who called me at 11pm at night.  Do not try to guilt me for not wanting to bail someone out of jail.  Sorry you had to do your job and arrest a criminal.  WOW that had to suck.  Also sorry you are having to actually put a pen to paper or run your doughnut stained fingers peg by peg over the keyboard to type out a report.  But do NOT fucking call me to bond out someone.  Then have the nerve to get pissy to the point I can HEAR YOU roll your lazy ass eyeballs when I say NO I WILL NOT BOND OUT THE CRIMINAL   because as you said, "  I will have to do more paperwork".  fucking wha.   I am sure that will hold you up from what?   finishing up the job?   a painter has to wash his brushes when he's done he hates that shit,  a cook has to wash the dishes and a mom has to change diapers, do the fucking paperwork.  You COPS hate bondsmen like they are scum, YET YOU want family to come up there and huff and puff when we don't  well suck my fictional dick ass hat,  he broke the law, and can sit, he needs to sit, in fact, he shouldn't be out,    First rule of my club,  don't break the law,  second rule,  if you do don't get caught,  third rule- dont be stupid enough to call me.

Dear Drug Dealer friend of the person in jail-   I would like to personally thank you for blowing my phone up everyone 7 minutes  from 1130pm until 6am ( presumably when your crack/pot/meth/drano  wore off)  crying into my phone.  I understand you have a disease,  you're sick. blah blah, hear my bleeding heart weep for you as you run around laughing while you rob society, innocent hardworking people and commit crimes to score your shit,  I would love it if I had enough faith in the Police where you were I would tell each of your dumb stoned asses I was wiring you money just so they would know where to pick up up, but since Officer 2FUCKING LAZY.  Probably wouldn't be there that just means you would figure out the deal and come kill me so I wont.  

and to the final person of yesterday that needs to be drop kicked-    ME.    What the hell are you doing?   The Prince got pegged in the spine and face with a baseball during over time and you didn't even bring it up. I mean I realize 2 other people are like in seriously crap right now but really? the prince.
ME2- Yeah well I think a family member in the hospital, handling it, ER, admitting, blah, then the entire out of state thing with the problem person and blah, I mean blah, I am exhausted and now I have to go again and handle everything,  remember this past monday I said I think I have a brain cloud on here.  hello?
ME-  Shut the fuck up.  Take your fucking stun gun with you today,  also pepper spray, also,  video camera, cause you if stun gun someones ass you better video it, then youtube it before they pick you up.  You are going to snap huh?
ME2-  probably I mean I am fucking talking to myself here shit.

If you are on this list, consider your ass drop kicked. (  that goes double for me)

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Not often seen here

Not often will you see me here,  act sane,  but today I have to take a minute to do this for some people I have never met and probably never will.
photo credit to news mobile alabama

It was nearly 20 years ago my world was turned upside down when my second child was born, I had no clue the words Apgar scores would mean so much and that lead me to write the 3 part series the hardest thing.

It was around 16 years ago I stood trembling in the road with my 2 babies as I watched everything I owned engulfed in a ball of orange while men in red trucks ran with hoses toward the ball. Then handed me a singular spoon, 1 tennis shoe and a blue plastic hanger to start our lives over.

It was 10 years ago when 58 days and 2 dear friends made the difference between the life and death of my darling Prince being alive today and being able to have a water balloon fight on his birthday this past weekend.

It was almost 6 years ago that a wall of water washed away 40 years of the hard work, memories, love and laughter of nearly everyone I know in the 4 counties around me.  Yet for some reason, I was left nearly untouched?  When not a school, fire department, hospital, or even a road was left,  why. I searched for families with gas cans we filled in other states, with laptops powered on generators, looking for people.  We painted on plywood and had adorable babies swimming in our bathtub to cool down.  We had a well, and a generator.  Our only damage was a trampoline that had flown over the house, grabbed the chimney and ripped off the fireplace which took down one wall, sure we lost the roof, but it stayed on, it merely snapped all the beams, we were indeed the lucky ones.   Everyone was so equal.  There were no socio economic classes.  There was no race, no crime, everyone helped everyone was the same here,  the roads were cleared by the neighbor men with chainsaws, the elderly were taken care of by the women with water, and the ladies who canned food shared with everyone.  The teens cleared debris and watched babies so the others could drive looking for lost loved ones, or missing homes.  You shared what you had, and you didn't ask for anything because everyone knew  what everyone needed and no Thanks was necessary.   ( in case you haven't figured it out that little storm was called Katrina)

It was less than 24 hours ago that over 200 people have lost their lives in my State and the States neighboring me.  It was 2 counties north of me it didn't even rain here.  I see the sunshine and wonder why as I run through my facebook and twitter trying to do a roll call to check on everyone.  There are no reasons I can offer.  There are no words I can write that can make anything better.  Nothing can take away the destruction, the loss, the pain, the hurt, the fear the will come back every time a dark cloud comes or those sirens ring out.  The simple words I am so sorry are not enough.  But I am.  For the people that today are without shelter, scared, worried, and wondering what to do,  there are people all over this little blue and green ball, thinking of you today that you will never know sending you good thoughts and strength. When it all feels lost, most things can be replaced, the things that can not, you must work hard to remember in your heart.

I  will leave you with the most worthless words on the planet, yet they are all I have.  I am so sorry.

From the Gulf Coast..   Sending love and good thoughts  to those in in pain.



**photo credit to  mobile alabama**

Monday, April 25, 2011

Pretty sure I have a fucking brain cloud.

OK if you don't watch scrubs first fuck you, because it was awesome, also now it's on really late in re runs so that means you don't suffer from insomnia  so chances are you don't have a damn brain cloud so screw you.

But they had this one episode where this chick heard everything as a musical and it was super freaking hilarious that was until they found out she had a brain tumor.  Which I will call a Brain Cloud because I loved Joe and the Volcano and if you don't know that movie well then double fuck off because that means your probably younger than me and I hope you order a hot fudge sundae and it's really hot and sticks to the roof of your mouth and shit. Because clearly I am having issue with my Brain cloud. Clearly I must have one.

The obvious evidence I have one is that I have found myself singing everything to myself to remember shit.

The problem is it is not a show tune.  I guess this means I am not gay, which is a bummer, because as a chick I would love to be gay because there are some seriously hot chicks I would love to get to at least 3rd base with and I love hot shoes and hooker boots and fake eyelashes and doing the super model stomp and flipping my hair around and acting like a diva.  OH HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE.  As a chick I can do that without being gay right?  SA-WEET!  I feel much better about not being gay but I am still bummed about the idea of living with this fucking brain cloud and singing everything to myself.

All last month I constantly sang the song " think of me, think of me fondly" whenever left a room or told someone good bye.  Now that may sound funny.  To me it was,  but to everyone else it wasn't probably because my singing is like a bag of kittens being beaten with the hammer of Thor.  But at least it was a theme right?  I mean it served a purpose and didn't point towards a BRAIN CLOUD !

But this past weekend I caught myself singing instructions to myself at every turn. To 1 particular tune.
"Get your panties on."    "Put the clothes in dryer."   "Load the dish   washer"    "Feed the fucking dogs."    "Shut the backdoor now."    " Open  power bill"    "put phone on charger"


"I    AM      IRON    MAN"

holy bob, I have a brain cloud,  I am not only talking to myself, I am singing reminders of mundane tasks to myself, while sober to the tune of fucking iron man.  That's it woman,  it's over,  you have done what can not be undone.  To much radon, or florecent lighting, or mt dew, or whatever. Just get some big ass luggage,  and fling your fat ass in a volcano for the good of mankind.    

Don't  bother sending help, I fear I am too far gone already.



Friday, April 22, 2011

YOU WRITE HERE ! - A guest Post !

I received a submission for the "YOU WRITE HERE"  anonymous bloggers vent arena on this blog.  A place they can come, free of trolls to say what needs to be said, where their readers wont be shattered when their persona is thrown on the ground and trampled with crocs.    So today you get a break from my self deprecating humor, potty mouth, and physical threats to innocents.  I think most of us can relate to my Guest who I expect you treat with the utmost respect or I will spork your ass.



I hate being strong
Everyone I know sees me as a "strong" person.  It has its blessings and it definitely has its curses.  I usually don't let on about what I feel sucks as far as being perceived as "strong."  That would fuck with my "bad ass" persona.

But, Peachy is kind enough to lend a spot to those of us who need to let it out - so I'm going to take advantage of her generosity.

I hate being strong because it means I am always expected to solve the damned problems, when sometimes all I want to do is fade into the background with all of the other sheep.  

I hate being strong because it means I'm the "go to" person, when sometimes I'd like to kick back and let OTHER people do the work. 
I hate being strong because it means having to come up with the "right" answers when all I feel like I do is "fake it till I make it."  

I hate being strong because it means people think I have no weaknesses - but they don't know how ONE sideways word can throw me into a mental tizzy for days. 
I hate being strong because people grow to depend on you - and it's a mother fucker being on your game 100% of the time.  

I hate being strong because of the EXPECTATIONS that come along with it - I can't fuck up.

I act like I don't give a shit about a lot of things - and to a certain extent, I am able tonot care too much about what people I barely know think about me.  But, people that I let "in" to know me - I care what they think.  I don't trust very easily.  And while my "outward" personality screams "EXTROVERT!" - few people know that I spend a lot of time inside my head and have a really hard time letting anyone get "close" to me.  I think that's probably why I have a hard time with relationships.  I come off as this "strong" personality - and I rarely let myself be vulnerable.  Because when you're vulnerable - people can (and WILL) hurt you.  Not too many people know the true extent of "hurt" I have endured in my lifetime.  I don't give that information out freely.  

My walls have cost me a lot, relationship-wise.  My mother once told me, "You're such a bitch no one is ever going to marry you!"  When you're 19 and you hear that, you don't care so much.  It's amusing.  But when you're 28 and feeling the pressure to get hitched to the dildo you've been dating for 3 years so that you don't look like a "failure" - those words your mother uttered nearly a decade prior ring in your ears like the gong show.  I got married when I knew I shouldn't have.  I remember thinking on the morning of my wedding day (at age 29), as I sat in the pool at this fancy hotel, "I wonder how many years we'll actually stay married before we get divorced."  Bad sign.  But, I got married nevertheless...just to prove a point:  someone DID marry the bitch.

I hate being strong, because from that marriage sprung this little being - who is totally dependent on me.  I didn't plan on having kids, and the truth is, I really feel like I'm a pretty selfish and self-absorbed person - so I didn't actually want kids.  Neither did my husband.  He was rather peeved when the news was delivered to him.  Not exactly jumping for joy - but my parents were - because, again, it was another source of "failure" to not deliver a grandchild after 3 years of marriage.  From that point on, I knew that I would be the parent who was most responsible for the "parenting" of this little being.  And I was right.  That husband "lasted" just about seven years (not including the four years we spent together BEFORE we got married).  Now, one child and one divorce later, I bear the full burden of making sure that the little person doesn't grow up to be a serial killer.  It's a fucking drag sometimes.  Don't get me wrong, I love my kid, but being the SOLE person responsible for ensuring that a person gets instilled with all of the shit they need to become a worthwhile human being...that pressure is immense.  And sometimes I don't want that pressure.  Sometimes I want to scream, "Why should I have to be the one to deal with all of this shit?"  Oh, because the child's father isn't terribly invested...and I am the "strong" one, after all.  Nobody questions my ability to handle all of this...but me.

I question myself all of the time.  I wonder what the hell makes people think I can handle the stress, the pressure, the challenge, blah, blah, blah.  They don't know that I pray for strength.  I pray for guidance.  I pray for luck.  I wish for help.  I wish for support.  I wish for relief.  And some days, I wish to just be left the fuck alone.  Some days, I wish to BE that wallflower that blends into the background.  They sure do seem to have it a lot easier.  No expectations.  No disappointment if they don't do something spectacular.  Some days - I'm quite sure that ignorance ain't got nothing on bliss as far as "mediocrity" is concerned.

Sometimes I find myself so envious - envious of married people, envious of divorced people whose ex-spouses play a huge part in their kids'lives, envious of people without kids, envious of people who have never been married and have no intentions of getting married, envious of people with large extended families around them, envious of people with NANNIES AND HOUSEKEEPERS!

But, when all is said and done...I do what I always do.  I let my "strong" self take over and just handle what needs to be handled.  Someone once said to me that God will only give you what you can handle.  Sometimes I wish he didn't trust me so much.  

Faking it till I make it.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

A little salt with that?

When dinosaurs roamed the earth, I went to this place called school.  Yes it's true my last 2 years of High School I skipped more than I attended but that's what happens when you place a high school close enough to Dayton Beach that I can smell that salt water.

I am sure it had little to do with the fact I turned my trunk into a cooler with roll out insulation and garbage bags, and the days I did attend I was so drunk I couldn't stand up. I had understanding teachers and went to school in the days that it was ok to tie up your principal and throw desks out a window.  It was a time before no child left behind or zero tolerance.

Somewhere around the Mesozoic era I taught, yes me, shut up, I did it for 1 year and it was in exchange for my children's tuition at private school.  My oldest son was sighted as the reason that a teacher quit in her letter of resignation and moving to Iceland.  I don't blame her, I almost removed my reproductive organs with a spork after he was born.  But that was long ago and I have blocked it out with much effort and expensive vodka.

My husband the Droid has a higher advanced math Degree, Metorology and a couple Computer whatevers, and I have a couple under my belt not to mention the Prince is our 3rd go around, and literally the easiest child on the planet to raise or teach.  So when this year, Mr.  Good Citizenship.  Student of the Year,  Good Conduct, winner of the Regional Physics Science Fair,  A Honor Roll brought home his 4th C on a test in math we were how do you say..... " pissed".

After the mandatory parental lectures a conference was requested.  Then we looked through his folder and saw that 7x7=49 was wrong and 7x3=21 was wrong and   12x2=24 is wrong.

Well suck my imaginary dick and color me confused.   Clearly there was an error in the grading. No biggie we will straighten this out in a jiffy lube.

So we get there 15 minutes early and wait 30 minutes because she apparently had to tweet or what the hell ever because it was her break.  Then the cram my fat ass and my husbands 6'5 ass in the tiniest chairs you have ever seen while she and her cohort sit in normal adult chairs.

* Note- this was a power technique we used in psychology and GVT to keep the upper hand,  and control of the situation.  It didn't work since she is the same age of my daughter and I felt I didn't need control.

So we begin with how is he in the class, are there any problems?  blah blah, yackity yak, blah.  Then we say we are concerned as he has brought home 4 C's and he has never had below an A, and this is the foundation to the rest of his education and we want to make sure he understands here so that he doesn't fall behind, is he understanding in class, paying attention turning in work, what can we do to work as a team blah.

TEACHER-  your son is absolutely the sweetest child ever, I adore him, don't even worry about the grades, he is a doll baby.

ME:  well if this was the doll baby acadamy I wouldn't but it's a school so I am worried about the grades, for example I think there is an issue with the grading on this test, example 12x2=24  is marked wrong so is 7x3=21 and so on.

TEACHER ( looks at us like we are morons)=  yes, those are wrong,  a LOT of the OLDER parents have an issue understanding new math,  we don't waste time memorizing multiplication anymore, we now estimate, he didn't estimate, so they are wrong.

HUSBAND-  ( about to lose higher math mensa IQ shit)-  excuse me, did you just say "waste time learning multiplication?   are you aware they are called math FACTS?   it's because it's a fact, not a theory or opinion, they don't change, also how can they divide, if they can't multiply?  also no where do the instruction say "estimate" those "x"  symbols mean multiply in mathematics.

TEACHER- ( wont make eye contact with husband anymore and looks at me)  your son knows this we learned this in class, so he knew what to do, and knows why he got it wrong.

ME- Well with us being OLDER parents, with HIGHER DEGREES, we are probably confusing him by making him learn things like multiplication and such, so I would like him to enter your tutoring program immediately.

TEACHER- OH, well that's for kids who are failing.

ME- ok I will tell him to stop turning in homework or answering any questions, since we are old and dumb. Also do you like chair with salt?

TEACHER-   excuse me?

ME-  I am just wondering if you want salt on that chair if I make you fucking eat it if you call me old again?

TEACHER-  OH I didn't mean it like that.

ME- I did.

End result.  My kid went to that teachers tutoring for 6 weeks 3 days a week, and fell off honor roll for the first time in 5 years,  yep,  he went from 5 years of straight A's to 1 A,  3 B's an 2 C's,   can you spell A-W-E-S-O-M-E?

Probably not if you're an old parent,  because even as an old parent he was still on honor roll all A honor roll, possibly looking at a B in one subject.  But Thankfully we put him in tutoring so he was able to be fully submerged in that awesome learning system and we stepped out of the equation as to not confuse him with our old and dusty out of date thoughts that the teacher pointed out would only " mislead him". Now he has horrible grades.  How cool is that?



Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Dry Hump Day

Happy Dry Hump Day yall

I got 2 awards yesterday.  Both from guys?  Dig that.  
1 from Oil Field Trash at
and the other from

As usual I suck and fail and have a high rate at losing these things I will slap them up in the trophey case over at  Thanks guys, YOU ROCK.

Here's your Dry Hump Day Chuckles.


A man was sitting on the porch with his wife and he says "I love you."

She asks "Is that you or the beer talking?"

He replies,  "It's me.......talking to the beer."”






Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Open my Ketchup or go to Jail do not collect $200

The GPS  Screamed turn around turn around as if the raven screaming never more never more,
I ended up in the place where a girl could get a dime bag or so much more so much more.
I saw the hood the projects and some kick as heels fishnets a couple weaves and long ass nails,
finally the guy turned around and I asked him how the fuck to do I get my white ass to the Ritz Carlton.

He came back at me with, " oh shit pretty woman you all lost and fuck aint you?"
No shit Nyquil, Help a speckled bitch out.

I get there and drive my crusty dusty missing a hub cap from the bumper car extravaganza french fries in the seat belts empty mt dew bottles littering the floor boards over flowing ashtray cracked windshield from a kayak  totally hoptie mini van up in the Ritz Vallet. BAM.  Suck on THAT bitchez.   They open the door and hug my ass.  Can I just say,  THAT RIGHT THERE IS THE WAY TO GET A FUCKING TIP?   yeah you roll my fat ass out of a car after playing bumper cars in the projects and breathing in a paper bag and hug me and hand me some wine?   YOU ARE GETTING TIPPED!  possibly a blow job.  just saying,  that is service.

All I can say is that NOLA was awesome as it always is,  I have the luxury of going there whenever I want. So do my children.  It's just next door.  So we are "locals".  But it was nice to see some old friends, put some faces to some names, and then meet some new people.

I also nearly stabbed a few bitches.  Just saying.  I didn't pass out 1 damn card the entire time.  I know you're shocked right?  Not. yeah.  you know me.  In fact I used my real first name half the entire time and totally avoided even telling people any of my blog names or where I write.  But I have to tell you.  I did get outed a couple of times.  But it was all good and by people I totally didn't mind getting outed by.  For example there was an opening of a Ketchup bottle with a male genitalia, and a conversation with powdered sugar on testicles. You know who you are.

Then the entire Joe and the Volcano luggage chick?  Shit,  I nearly flung myself on a friggin fork, seriously. Thank Bob for Brandy in the Club lounge.

The Highlight was a tie.   I can't decide whether it was when I out drank this guy in the French Quarter because he was being all douchey ( he wasn't a blogger and I am not naming names here).   OR   The Reading at the Eiffel Society  ( not so much the reading as what went down in the bathroom and no I can't name names or give details for like 7 years or some shit).

So there, that's how it went and I came home and I didn't get anything pierced or inked and there's nothing new on MY record,  and my husband and kid used every dish we have and my dalmatian was left outside overnight and got attacked by a chupacabra and now he is all red, white and black, so they immediatly did the entire buzz kill from my awesome 3 day New Orleans trip like  being drunk off your ass and getting the most awesome thrown against the wall lay of your life in high school and then walking in to your moms church group at the kitchen table while you have your panties in your purse and your Grandad walks up to hug you.  Yeah.  BUZZ-KILL.....



*Disclaimer-  He totally could have gotten his own ass out of jail and didn't need a bondsman, it's called an OR, but Mr. Drunkfuck was too drunkied Drunkfestified Drunkfucked to even know how to sign his own fucking name on the OR bond ( Own Recognizance) .  Don't ever fucking try to go shot for shot against me douche face.

Friday, April 15, 2011

I'm in the Quarter getting drunk.

Since I am in NOLA getting drunk right now. ( wearing smoking hawt bling from my Cobra Sistah Reckmonster and hanging out with some awesome peeps) I thought I should give you a shout out to the natives of the great state.

A good ole Louisiana boy won a bass boat in a raffle drawing.  He brought it home and his wife looks at him and says, "What you gonna do with that.  There ain't no water deep enough to float a boat within 5 0 miles of here."  He says, "I won it and I'm a gonna keep it."

His brother came over to visit several days later.  He sees the wife and asks where his brother is.  She says, "He's out there in his bass boat", pointing to the field behind the house. 

The brother heads out behind the house and sees his brother sitting in a bass boat with a fishing rod in his hand down in the middle of a big field.  He yells out to him, "What are you doing?" 

His brother replies, "I'm fishin.  What does it look like I'm a doing."

His brother yells, "It's people like you that give people from Louisiana a bad name, makin everybody think we is stupid.  If I could swim, I'd come out there and whip your butt!"

OH yeah you have to love dis.....

Take it easy and love the weekend.



Thursday, April 14, 2011


You can always gauge my day by what I am drinking.

I went from Orange juice.

to a Screw Driver

to Straight Vodka.

then I shut the door to the fridge.

Damn I hate mornings.



Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Let them Eat Shit!

Yes Miss Hopkins please take this article and make several copies send it out to everyone in the United States marked Urgent and then make sure it gets placed in the ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME file.  Right next to the dumb bitch who went on the national news saying she needed to file a law suit against McDonalds for selling a product in the Free Market America. Thank you.  I will be inside a bottle of Vodka rocking back and forth in disbelief this is happening in my country.

Click to See Full Size -  Article from Chicago Tribune

I could write a rant of epic proportions on the level of fucking insanity that this country is turning into.   I could spew from my mouth about the level of utter moron-ism that it takes for a mega twit to stand on the damn news and think it's ok to say shit like " I can't tell my 7 year old she can't eat a happy meal and that's why she is fat and it's because of the toy so you shouldn't sell toys"
Because GOD/Budda/Alla/ Zeus knows  it's that Damn Red headed Clowns fault you're a shit for brains no spine sorry excuse for a parent to a spoiled little fucking brat and so we need to shut down free commerce so your little princess of pork doesn't want a happy meal.  It's not enough they offer apple slices, milk and salads,  NO.  It's not enough you could just drive a route that doesn't send her into a freaking ravenous rage for a fucking $1.00 toy in exchange for a greasy bag by seeing those golden arches.  NO.   But most definitely we could never expect you to actually parent YOUR own damn child.  That would clearly be asking too much, so lets have the fucking Government waste some more money tying up our courts with your stupid case,  then do some testing, research, write up some legislature and spend about 5 billion bucks because you have the FUCKING AUDACITY TO GO ON THE NEWS AND SAY YOU ARE A SHIT FOR FUCKING BRAINS HORRIBLE FUCKING PARENT WHO CAN NOT PARENT.   The best part, the news pampered your baby ass like you were such a victim.  I wanted to vomit and then mail it to you.  I can't wait until she's 12 and wants to have sex in her bedroom.  Hope you learn to say no in the next 5 years or are you thinking the Government is going to handle that one too?  OH wait let me guess planned parenthood? Welfare?  OH yeah guess I will pick up that tab too you lovely piece of work.  Hold up. Drugs are running rampit what if she wants to try booze and crack around 14? I mean seriously, that's way more freaking addictive than a little mermaid doll.  Shit. I certainly hope they come up with a solution for that soon.  You are seriously screwed.  Oh no your not. I am, because that's right, YOU REFUSE TO PARENT AND ADMIT IT.  Thanks, and a Big Thanks to the news, which is no longer the news, it's actually just a twisted version of whatever cause needs to be pushed by whoever owns whatever they want pushed.

Now on to the wonderful article above in the Chicago Times-
YOU MUST EAT THE SCHOOL LUNCH.  Unless you have a medical issue with a Doctors note you may not bring a lunch from home.   This means  that the shit slop overpriced alpo that all the kids in America get mere seconds to chug down their digestive systems is now the ONLY option. Remember the Soup Natzi?  Yeah this Principal is the freaking lunch Natzi?  Holy Shit, that boat will not float. That's right folks !  Sexy huh? If you ever dared to say hospital food is bad, I beg you to sit through a weeks worth of school food, and do it on the students schedule.  It's awesome.  Watch the Chow Hall scene from GI Jane.  It sums it up pretty good.   First in many areas a large portion of the children are on free or reduced lunches.  The remainder of the kids are being overcharged for what is the nutritional equivalent to dog shit  with a crushed prenatal vitamin on top.  It has all the flavor of  Kim Chi that has been left in the trunk of a car in the deep south with melted ice cream for a week.  Simply put. I wouldn't eat that shit if you paid MY ASS in Pirate Gold.   So I pack my kids lunch.  He gets fruit, a sandwich, milk, cheese, pudding, whatever.  Also they get 30 minutes.  Wow. Lucky kids huh?  No not really. That's 30 minutes from the time they leave their class and have to get back, in that time they cross campus, wait in line,  have shit slopped on a ( often dirty) tray,  get over charged,   find a seat where they wont get the crap beat out of them by a bully,  sit down, by now 17-20 minutes have passed.  They have less than 6 minutes to actually eat and drink their " food like substance"  because they need to cross campus and get back to class.  Don't forget if you intend on washing your hands or using the restroom you better be damn sure you are at the front of the line.   Oh and if you think I am talking 9th grade and up. NEGATIVE.  It's been this way since 1st grade.  Not just my school system.  Today I heard 10 callers on the radio from 4 states all with the same sceneries.   Shocking !   So here a principal has no decided that CHILDREN CAN ONLY PURCHASE FOOD FROM HER SCHOOL.   The CAN NOT BRING HOME MADE LUNCHES.  This means if you don't qualify for free or reduced lunches but you don't have the funds you can't pack your kid a lunch.  It also means if your kid doesn't like sloppy joes and meat loaf, and hamburgers, TOUGH SHIT.  That's right, my kid who doesn't eat hamburger, or as in the case of school lunches, ground up cock roaches, at least 3 days a week he would go without eating from  610am until 325pm  to me I find that completely UNHEALTHY and a FORM OF CHILD ABUSE.   If my child lived in that district, or if they were to dare and enact that law here. You could bet your sweet ass I would end up on the news and chances are they would not be speaking favorably of me like the did the dumb bitch suing McDonalds.

Just saying.  If we don't collectively as a country say enough of this bullshit we wont be taking anymore, then we will indeed wake up one day with no more rights, how much will we hand over before it is all gone.  We were once the land of the free and the home of the brave. Now we are the land of the
_______________________ and the home of the ______________________________

You fill in the blanks.



Monday, April 11, 2011

I put bling on my boomslang

You can touch  me here, you can touch me there, you can touch me, bitch did you just take my wallet?  I am going to jack your ass up.  No I mean it. I may be drunk but I will dot your fucking eye.

I am getting ready to head to Nawlins ( that's New Orleans for you Yanks)  for this Party ( that's conference for you real writers)   this weekend.

Anyway my KBC Cobra Sister  The ReckMonster !!!!  ( mandatory WOOT!)  sent me this Killaa  bling to wear.  Most bitchin part. She made it.  The only things I can make are drinks, a mess and babies, which coincidentally I can make all at the same time. ( mandatory WOOT!)

So I had to go over to Metairie this weekend ( that's next door to Nawlins)  so I did a test drive on some of bling  from CobraSister ReckMonster it looked like this.

So if yall are  coming to Nawlins for the party hope to see you there.  Look me up I will be under an assumed name so the stalkers ( cops) can't find me.



Thursday, April 7, 2011

I got some action yesterday

Yesterday I was sitting there reading this magazine article minding my own business and this hot guy walks in and sits down, we were alone in a tiny room.

He was hot.

I could tell he liked me, he barely made eye contact with me, but he struck up this intimate conversation, he wanted to know everything about me, and had a witty way about him, before you knew it I had put down my magazine. I spilled my guts and the conversation got very personal very quick.

Don't get me wrong I am happily married to the Droid and I don't go running around hap hazzardly flinging myself on men, it's  hard to contain this level of hotness on a daily basis but I do my best.  This guy was just so damn smooth.

Next thing I knew there he was looking me dead in the eyes, holding my hand, inches from my face. Can you say "awkward?"   

It didn't go any further than that.  However I did give him my name and phone number, I also agreed to see him again  in a couple weeks.   

The only thing that pisses me off about the entire thing was the co-pay.  I mean that just cheapens the relationship don't you think?  I couldn't figure out if I should call the girl who took my check his receptionist or a pimp?   I told Droid about it and he said next time I should go ahead and make him strip for me, so I get my money's worth.  

This is totally why our marriage works.



Tuesday, April 5, 2011

porn stars, the strip, family reunions and more

It's just one more reason I won't ever get that Mom of the year award.  Spring Break 2011.

Started out really innocent. My 21 year old daughter and her College roommate R headed down and scooped up me and The Prince and we headed over to LA ( that's totally Lower Alabama) to the Family reunion.  

All the fun you can stand right?  Well it ended up with us partying in Panama City Beach Florida on Spring Break and this was the theme Song that blared from every hotel room and car stereo.

here are some words that stick out from the week

Krispy Kreme,  beer bong, rattlesnake round up, mullet toss,  shuttle craft,  docking,  stripper pole,  ladies,  passport,  tongue,  drunks,  panties,  crabs,  merman,  watersnake,    guitars, porn stars,  swamp crotch,  smack smack smack,  ” I EAT WOOD!” ,  Sydney and talent.

All of these words came from the people in my group. Oh yes.  Oh yes.

So there we have it.  His Birthday is the 23rd of this month, consider it an early present? 
My kid  just had his first Florida Spring Break With College Chicks.  
( I swear his voice dropped)

Congrats little Dude.