Lots to write about but no time just yet to do it. So, I’ll cheat off of my email again. I thought this was pretty funny and hope you do, too. 

You’re driving
along 

just minding your own business, 

when all of a
sudden - 

 without
any warning, 

This Dick In A Truck 

pulls out right in front of you…… 

Part One: Our neighbours are white trashier than us. You might not have thought this possible, given our 6.5 dogs, beer brewery in the garage, and beer-can shooting range in the backyard. You might think (safely, really) that we are the sort the neighbours complain about. We never join homeowners’ associations.

But I am here to tell you today, we are not the tackiest neighbours on our block — oh no, not by a longshot. Our next-door neighbours have us trumped till kingdom come with their exuberant display of lights that not only flash through a specific sequence as if to evoke a film, but additionally these lights actually PLAY MUSIC. And just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore white trash than that, the neighbours pulled up in their minivan and turned their lights on via remote control from inside the car. Their flashing singing lights are that important to them, which begs the question… there must be a way to put these things on a timer.

Part two: Happy birthday Elena. I love you a lot. From “Ip and Quall” (she will know what that means), to relief at getting a sister, to sibling rivalry, to notes left on the door warning me that my father suspected I was being subject to unsavoury influences and I might want to hightail it out of there fast, to watching my baby sister, as usual, outpace me in everything. I say this with no bitterness, only pride. Four beautiful children and her husband isn’t half bad… not to mention the lady herself. Who would have predicted she would become one of my best friends? What a lovely surprise. My stepdaughter recently said, “Boy, you talk to your sister a lot.” And I thought, I hope that the same holds true for you in twenty years.

Om Lars Adelskoghs bok En tom säck kan inte stå används som en dansmanual:

New Jersey will never be the same: MTV hit the nail on the head with the Italian-Americans who take over the night scene with gusto. The most successful MTV show in years, Jersey Shore brings great reviews from Italian-Americans who feel proud of their kids representing. The show has united the Italian-American community who rally behind the guidos who now inspire the world with their hairdo’s and muscles, and brains. It’s all true. It’s all show business. It’s Hollywood stuff with its ups and downers. Just don’t miss this milestone on MTV, the cable channel that was once Music Television.

Also Domino’s Pizza SUCKS: DON’T BUY IT! If Domino’s Pizza has boycotted the guidos of MTV’s Jersey Shore BOYCOTT THEM. Their Pizza is no good anyway. Sometimes it takes a day to deliver and it’s not THE REAL ITALIAN PIZZA. At our site we fully support the MTV Jersey Shore kids and we are against anyone who censors their free expression. Besides, based on our own experience as a family- going fishing to the Jersey Shore for 17 years and seeing plenty of guidos- we’ve never seen any sign that these young Italian-Americans are violent or have caused any kind of trouble. They have their own circle but they respect everyone else. DOMINO’s Pizza is disrespecting everyone when they boycott the show. So our advice: If Domino’s (soggy) Pizza and their late deliveries are boycotting the MTV Jersey Shore kids BOYCOTT THEM: DON’T ORDER ANYMORE DOMINO’S PIZZA. Instead you can buy a real pizza from your neighborhood Pizza, which happens to be TRUE ITALIAN PIZZA not the fake-late delivered frozen pizza roll.

By Ian Al Simers, head honcho

That’s right. That’s right. I said it and I say it! Merry Christmas everybody!

It has been one heck of a roller coaster year for our beleaguered country. 2009 is ending and 2010 is just around the corner. What will this new year hold in store for us? Will the tribes people of Barafrica ever be freed from the crushing rule of the AMABO? Will his offspring, Sheneequa and Mudflaps, rain terror upon the world? Will anyone buy Gabe’s cock? Will the drunkard animal lover in Williams find a new friend in reporter J. Rooney?

Answers to these and many more questions will have to wait as father time ticks down the hours and minutes to the final stroke of midnight and the new year will begin.

I think this photograph pretty well sums up my sentiments for this past year of 2009. Perhaps you feel the same.

SO LONG 2009!

I apologize. I’ve been rather lax about helping y’all out with white trash crafts and gifts. I was sitting on the sofa, finishing the new Stephen King novel, Under The Dome, and a voice said, “Ya gotta go help them TPBarbie. They are your people. They are panicking and need some one to calm them down.” Well, I assume the voice was talking about my buddies and friends who have yet to make or buy their white trash gifts. Funny though, the voice sounded like Barbara Walters!

I am disclosing where I get all of my awesome gifts and some crashy (white trashy) ideas. Here is a great site for last minute crashy (trashy craft) gifts…..Regretsey. This site is just plumb full of good stuff. For example…..

Now, are these the cutest things that you’ve ever seen or what? You can spend the small price of $15.00 plus shipping or make your own. Your gift recipient more into vampires that sweet little bears, make them some with New Moon characters. You can’t sew, ya say? You don’t have to. Mend-It is like liquid thread in the form of a glue. But, if you gift-receiver happens to be a stripper, I would recommend actual sewing. The Mend-It has a tendency to melt under heat such as lights on a stripper stage. (And check out those pink, full size Barbie pumps!)

“You know, this reminds me of a fairy tale too; “The Girl Who Put Shit on Her Head and Thought it was a Hat”.

Only $18.00 at regretsey.com or use your imagination. Find an old hat around your house and then just starting hot-gluing random shit all over it.

This is an unisex necklace. I ordered 4. I’m giving two to Secret Sisters at church and 1 to my post office clerk (male) and 1 to my paper delivery guy. Only, I made my own and you can, too. Get a piece of white bathroom tile. Drill a small hole in top. Then paint the “Say What Guy” or anything else you want on it. Search around your house for a strong chain and “VOILA!”.

Only $20.00 at Regretsey. But, I have a feeling that if you want this gift for an ex-husband or ex-boyfriend, you have the creativity to paint one like it yourself.

Now, we know that Christmas is all about the little ones. So,here’s a great idea for kids from…well, you decide what age it is appropriate for……

KIDS WILL LOVE THIS!!!!!

So, there you have a few gift and craft ideas. You have a whole week to make them. Go get busy!!!!!

And, if you still feel like you are just not crafty enough, visit Regretsey.

Merry Christmas from all of your friends at the TrailerPark!

There’s just so much I’ve been wanting to put down for myself in my blog, but I haven’t been able to actually start hitting the keys here in my safe little WP box. Obviously until now.

I had an excellent piece of advice earlier from a whip-smart lady I like to call a friend; I was worrying out loud (typing rather) that my topic would be misinterpreted as fishing for sympathy and pity partying, but she said, ‘If you can’t whine in your own blog, where can you?’

So here I am.

I changed the title of the blog for a reason. I do consider myself White Trash, and through years of trial and error and being slapped back into My Place, I have finally accepted my lot in life. My fate, the hand I was dealt, my role, my station in life.

People can drone on about how you make your own success in life and change your own luck, etc, but not if you’re MEANT to be WHO you are AND WHERE you are in life?

Therapeutic venting/blogging and journaling, not because I hope to be some big famous blogger read and adored by thousands, but because all of us wants to leave something of themselves behind to be immortal. What better than a blog in the midst of millions of blogs floating around in the vast forever of the internet? Even after the ‘internet’ as we know it…it will still exist in some form.

So on we go.

These first ones will be very cluttered and all-over-the-place until I get caught up, and not in any kind of order whatsoever.

*I* have an actual, proper party-ish get-together to go to. Not quite like what Auntie Mame had nor in the beginning of The Exorcist (although parties like that are still my dream to attend one day) but a Day-After-Chrtistmas party with a group of FB friends who I did go to school with but who were all in a different group/click than me and even in a different ‘class’ (I don’t mean as in math & Spanish). My family was what is considered lower middle class. My Dad was Air Force, then Civil Service and Mom didn’t go to work until we were in double digit ages and worked at a greenhouse then ZCMI. I could have never been able to go to a prom unless I found a dress to borrow, so it’s probably a good thing I was never asked.  Then again, in HS I was the girl every one wanted to screw. Girls hated me because their BF’s wanted to get in my pants and because of the shit going on at home, I just wanted to be with any guy who would have me.

Weird random point; when I was 19 I was out partying (White Trash partying) with a few friends and we ran into some guys, I happened to like one…long story short, I overheard him tell my friend something that had I think, affected me more than I even understand at this point; she had said ‘She likes you’ and his response was ‘There are two types of girls, girls you have for girlfriends and girls you fuck.   She’s the kind you just fuck.’

So back to the party date. I decided to go solo, one because I am, and 2 because if I dug up a ‘date’ to take then I’d feel like I had to pay attention to them and I want to just enjoy everyone else’s company and not be hindered with any kind of a time schedule, whether I feel like leaving early, late or in between. Also, I’m not sure how well I’m going to be able to put myself together. I’ve started dying my hair a dark red (long story, I turned it an awful gray/purple/platinum color) and it fades out SO quickly that I’m SURE I’ll have to re-do it B4 the night or my ends (like 3-4 inches) will be a nasty grayed out reddish color! So here goes my Xmas $ my Mom sends (which I told her to keep in double digits only because I just borrowed $1200 less than 2 months ago to pay off a loan from LAST Christmas! (one of those evil, high interest loans) ) Mom is on a fixed income since Dad died, and her Mother turned 100 in November and of course, lives in England, who knows when she’ll have to fly back.

So here’s what I’ll be splurging on with my Holiday monies, lol; Hair dye. Laundry quarters (I have NO clean clothes, I take a bath with my ‘underthings’ and wash them out, rotating colors, of course, while I’m rinsing off.  I had an ex-husband who had a liking for Women’s clothing so my ‘nice’ clothes that I had are gone and I haven’t been able to afford to replace them.  I bought my first pair of jeans in YEARS (and I’m talking over 10) a few weeks ago at Layne Bryant on clearance. They fit perfect…2 weeks later I wore them to dinner at a friends (same home the next, larger party will be at) and they were starting to cut into my fat tummy. Believe it or not, I have gained. Which sucks rotten bananas, but I’ve gone from 150 to 220 in about 2 years. Honestly, I don’t eat that much, but I do like my beer and Coke! I know, empty calories…

I get distracted easy…Oh yeah, Christmas monies…I have a list in front of me actually. Laundry $, hair dye, TP, Paper towels, snow boots (Hoping to find some cool Moon Boots, my other pair from Wal-Mart ($12) started leaking & the sole tearing the first Winter I had them…this will be their 3rd Winter and it just ain’t happenin’! I wish I could find a pair of nice shoes cheap, to wear to said party, my Reeboks are either 5 or 6 years old, can’t remember. And they were a cast-off gift PS didn’t want that her dad sent. I could borrow a pair from her, but they’re all dainty heels & such and I’d probably slip on ice re-break my arm, screw my back up worse and snap my neck. But not die, just be paralyzed in some fucked up position like my neighbor who took acid & drove his Harley off a cliff…DEEERRRRR!

And maybe batteries for PS’s camera. She won’t let me borrow it unless I have my own batteries. I’m totally clueless what to wear. I don’t really have anything ‘nice’ and I’m big on ‘comfort’ (read; FAT ASS!) so if I can find a nice top on clearance (the day after Xmas…hmmmm…) I think I’ve already exceeded my limit tho and I don’t even have it yet.  At least since I had my haircut ($6 at the beauty college!) I only need one box of hair dye instead of 2.

I think I’ve worn myself out for the night. Time to go play Bejeweled.

It was actually a sunny day when I took this picture, though it turned out looking much like something I had taken in summer in Nova Scotia. Hmmm. This is the view from my driver’s seat of the bridge over Lake Palestine, a rather massive lake. Not Great Lake size massive, but impressive nonetheless.

Here is another view, plus proof that this really is Lake Palestine and not just some random impostor lake.

It is a beautiful lake, and its significance I suppose is that one must drive over it to procure alcohol. We live in a dry town — well actually the entire county is dry but it sounds hokier to say “dry town” — so one has to drive to these liquor mini-malls at the Henderson County Line if one wishes to procure an adult beverages. And you know I enjoy adult beverages, so I cross the county line from time to time and I am rewarded with this view. I wish I had caught it at sunset.

But, well, I wasn’t rewarded with the best view, but I was rewarded with Guinness, and that is okay by me.

Jane loved Dick the way an addict loves their drug of choice. It was not a healthy love. Much like the addict knows what they are doing will not end well, Jane knew this too. But Jane created Dick in her mind before he ever spoke a word. When she saw him, like what she saw and created the human behind the good looks. Jane didn’t know Dick.

Dick loved Jane like a person loves a warm place to go in the wintertime to escape the cold. That’s all Jane was to Dick. A warm place to go. Dick was a loser. He never held a steady job for more than a couple years and when he was working he didn’t make much money. He was restless and never really knew what he wanted in life. He bought cheap guitar and dreamt of performing it on stage in front of screaming crowds but he never even practiced. The problem was he never dedicated himself to anything. He didn’t realize you have to work at things to get good. He was good looking so life came easy to him. People always praised his mediocrity as though it was greatness so he felt he was great. He never loved anybody but himself. When he told Jane he loved her he was really talking to himself. Because Jane gushed love on him he saw her as weak.

Jane had serious bouts with manic depression. The mood swings lasted months. She came from money so that protected against the lows. She was able to get by in a respected state college so she was able to obtain good jobs during the manic periods. She lost them during the low ones. She met Dick in a state required anger management class. She was there for hitting a boss one day when he told her that she was dressing inappropriately. Dick was there because of a drunken bar fight. Dick wasn’t a fighter unless he had the sauce in him which was often.

For Jane the obsession was immediate. She saw this handsome guy sitting across from her in her group therapy session. He was stylishly dressed, though in cheap clothes and had a swagger about him. She wanted him. Their eyes met from opposite ends of the semi-circle they were sitting in. Dick asked Jane out for a drink after the group dispersed and a relationship was born.

A three month whirlwind romance ended up in a simple marriage performed by a justice of the peace.  Jane felt complete and Dick felt trapped, yet comfortable. He thought it was a just a little better than prison, three squares, a roof over his and money in his pocket.

After six months of playing house Dick’s eyes and other parts already started to wander. Jane was in a manic mood so she was gainfully employed by a financial firm downtown.  Dick wasn’t working.

One night Dick came bumbling through the front door with his head down as to not let Jane see that his eyes were red from smoking weed on the corner with his so called friends. Being high in front of sober people always made him fell dirty.

“Dick, you’re not high again are you?” she asked.

“Just a little.”

“Why do you act like you’re all ashamed or something when you’re high. You always keep your head down and don’t look at me. You know I don’t even care.  What’s that all about?”

“I dunno.” He was hoping the questions would end soon because he could not think strait. He didn’t smoke a little. That was a lie. He smoked a lot. The dirty feeling increased when he could not give coherent answers to simple questions.  He was very uncomfortable right now. He knew he should have stayed on the corner with the guys. But Jasmine was coming and he didn’t want her to see him this burnt. He would rather expose this side of himself to Jane than to Jasmine.  With Jasmine he had what he thought were real feelings. She was much more like him so the love projected into her that was really towards himself was stronger.

After a strained silence Jane said “You know honey. I heard that Frank and Sandra in Apartment 245 are splitting up. Apparently Frank was banging the Mexican girl that cleans the house. Sandra found a condom under the covers near the foot of the bed. Frank admitted everything. Sandra is devastated. She loves Frank.” She was looking into nothingness and asked “Did you know anything about this.” The question was innocent. She was just gossiping and not accusing Dick of knowing anything but it caught Dick of guard.

“Naw. I didn’t know that Frank was getting down like that.” That was a lie. He knew. He knew sordid details. He knew that girl was a third input girl. He knew that she; in the throes of passion would say things in Spanish and that Frank would cum gushing explosions to the exotic words coming from her mouth. He knew that…..well, he knew. Dick was even planning on convincing Jane to hire the girl to clean their apartment. What Jane said next shocked him. Shocked him even through his weed induced stupor.

“I think Sandra should have acted like she knew nothing. Let the girl come do the weekly cleaning. Then when she arrived, I don’t know, hit her on the head with something…”

“Wooh….”

“I’m not finished, let me finish.” Her tone got dead serious. She was not talking to Dick but to the ether. Her face changed. She looked different. “Then I would tie her up on a chair next to Frank. Oh yeah, Frank would already be tied up, I would have got him while he was still sleeping. Then I would cut Frank’s dick off. I’m not sure how. Knife? Scissors? That’s not the point. Then I would shove it down the little Spic’s throat as far as I could. You know Frank’s got a big one, Sandra told me.” Dick nodded. He had heard. “Then I would pinch her nose as to not let her breath. With my two little fingers I would slowly take her life away…”

Dick’s drugged out mind was spinning. He thought of Jane as this sweet pliable little thing. After hearing these words and seeing the severity in her eyes and her twisted face when she said them, Dick’s image of the little push over Jane changed.  Now he started to go over in his mind all the shit he has been pulling off behind Jane’s back. If she was saying this, was she capable of doing it? Seeing the look in her eyes he didn’t have many doubts.

“Is something wrong, dear? You have a strange look on your face”. Jane asked.

“Naw, I’m just a little smoked out. That’s all.”

She continued “But Frank. What to do about Frank? After all, the little whore was just after some dick. Maybe the dumb little bitch thought there was a possible Green card in it. But Frank, he knew he was fucking with someone’s heart. Him and Sandra are married seven years.” She paused “SEVEN YEARS!” Dick was almost sober now; his high came crashing down with the transformation of his meek little wife.  She continued “Well, Frank would probably die from the loss of blood soon, because of the loped off cock and all, so I wouldn’t have a lot of time to work. I couldn’t let the bastard off that easy. Dying from blood loss is too easy. Too easy for a piece of shit like that.” Jane rarely used foul language.  “You know, I’m not sure what I’d do next. What do you think, honey? How could I make him hurt before he dies?”

Dick was stunned by the question. His face showed a little fear. He hesitated too long for Jane’s liking and she said “What, you think I’m crazy. You don’t think Frank should pay for his sins?”

“Uh, well, not like that. Maybe Sandra could, like, take him to the cleaners, you know? He’s got a little dough in the bank. She could get like a lawyer and just take his money and she could just live her life.” He was stammering.

“No.” She paused and her face returned to quasi normalcy. “No one can live their life after something like that happens.” She sat quietly now just thinking. Dick stood stupidly in the doorway scrambling for something to say. He came up with “Well you ain’t got to worry about shit like that with me.” He lied “I love you too much to fuck around on you.”

She said “I better not have to worry.” She paused. “No, I mean, I know I don’t have to worry” Then she added “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m gonna hit the hay. I’m kinda tired. You wanna go to bed?”

“Yeah, I have to wake up early tomorrow. There’s a meeting at the other office.”

As they crawled into bed Jane started to kiss Dick. “You it’s been a while.” She said.

At first Dick’s mind was elsewhere. Was this fantasy that she just told him a warning? Does she know something? As her deft mouth started kissing down his chest his mind came back into focus. The kisses felt good. As she made her way past the treasure trail of pubic hairs just north of his manhood he started imagining that Jane was the little Mexican girl. That night Jane made love to the idea Dick that she had created and Dick made love to the little Mexican girl. Their relationship changed forever that night.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

After a session of rough sex, Dick and Jasmine lay on the bed, sweaty and staring up at the once white now slightly yellow ceiling.

“I have a job interview on Monday, Dick, isn’t that great?” Jasmine said.

“Yeah?” he replied. Dick generally didn’t pay attention to anything that didn’t grasp one of his primal senses. This comment didn’t, so he was paying much attention.

“Yeah, it’s for a good financial firm in the city. Finally Dick, I might have some steady income and we can get out of this dump. You can leave that bitch wife of yours and you can come with me. We could, like, get a cute little apartment in the city. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah, great.” He said. Again, he wasn’t paying much heed to what she was saying.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

It was a sunny Monday morning as Jane and Jasmine stepped out of their front doors. And the sun was shining real bright as they climbed onto the exact same train heading into the city. They sat two cars apart. The train arrived in the city and Jane climbed up to her office and Jasmine ducked into a deli for a cup of coffee and to practice her interview questions that she printed out from the internet.

At 10:00am sharp Jasmine was sitting in the reception area waiting for her interviewer. The door opened and a well shaped and well dressed women came walking towards her with an outstretched hand.

“My name is Jane, nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you, Jane, my name is Jasmine.”

“Please, come into my office so we can talk.”

“Absolutely.”

The usual questions were asked and the interview lasted for 45 minutes. Jane really liked Jasmine and Jasmine like Jane. Jane felt that Jasmine’s prospects of being hired were quite good.

“Come to this side of my desk, there is something on the company web-site I want to show you. My monitor can’t swivel enough for you to see it from there.” Jane said.

“Sure.” Jasmine answered.

As Jasmine turned the corner of Jane’s long glass top desk she saw something that gave her a start. Her faced must have showed it because Jane asked “What’s the matter, you’ve never seen a desk this messy before?” she said playfully.

What gave her the start was a picture of Dick and Jane taken on their honeymoon in a sleek modern frame. Jasmine always knew that Jane existed. But she asked few questions and Dick offered even less information. She didn’t even know Jane’s last name. Now she did. Now she had to think of something quick. She knew she displayed shock on her face but she surely couldn’t tell Jane why.

“No, I was just admiring your desk.”

Jane’s bullshit detector went off. She casually took her eyes from Jasmine’s face to follow the trail of her stare. It led right to the picture for Jasmine never took her eyes off it. “Why is she looking at that picture wearing that face? And why the lie about the desk?” Jane thought. She momentarily pushed it out of her mind.

She went to the company website and showed Jasmine what is was she wanted to show her. Jasmine was now acting differently. She was aloof. They ended the interview with niceties and Jasmine left Jane’s office. Jane knew that something happened.  She looked at the address on Jasmine’s resume and saw that they were practically neighbors. Jane got to thinking.

Jasmine went to the ladies room and cried. This was the moment she knew she was in love with Dick.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

As Jane cleared the dinner plates from the she turned her head to Dick and asked “You know almost everybody who lives in a two mile radius of our house, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much” he said.

“You ever heard of a Jasmine who lives on Spring Street?”

A pang of fear flashed behind Dick’s eyes. It showed. “Uh, I don’t think so” he stammered.

“But you know everybody. You don’t do shit with your life but hang around the block with all them losers, smoking and drinking.” Her tone was mean and condescending.

“Yeah, but I never heard of any Jasmine.” He said. His cell phone rang. The caller I.D. lied and said Ray. Dick was frozen in his chair. “I told her never to call” he thought.

“Who is that, dear?”

He looked at the caller I.D. “Ah, it’s just Ray.”

“Who’s Ray, dear?  I never heard you talk about any Ray. Is he a business associate?” She said facetiously.

“Just a guy I know.”

“Well, aren’t you going to answer it?”

“Nah, it ain’t that important.” He was hoping with all his might the incessant ring tone would die off.

“Answer the fucking phone, Dick!” she said.

He nervously flipped open the phone. “Yo, Ray, I can’t talk right now.” A feminine voice was speaking on the other line until Dick closed the phone and placed it on the table.

Jane was staring right through Dick. “Why couldn’t you talk, Dick?”

“We’re like in the middle of something here.”

“No we weren’t, Dick. So, Dick, Ray is a woman?”

“Nah, he’s a guy that new to the neighborhood” Dick was cut off by Jane screaming “Stop fucking lying to me. I heard the voice. It was a woman. Why are you lying to me?” She picked up a large knife and walked towards Dick and repeated “Why are you lying to me?”

Dick scrambled to his feet, knocking over his chair. “I’m not lying to you, I swear. What are you going to do with that knife?”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Dick. Now!”

Dick burst through the small room that leads to the front door, fumbled to get it open and with that he was gone. Jane heard his heavy frantic footsteps running down the stairs. She went to the window that looks down upon the street and saw Dick running towards Spring Street. She pulled out the business card that she had scratched Jasmine’s address on.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

Jasmine heard panicked pounding on her door. She looked through the peep hole and saw Dick hitting the door as if he thought he could he could make a hole in it with his fist to jump through.

Jasmine undid the puzzle of locks and let Dick in. “What was that Ray bullshit about?” she asked.

Dick was out of breath “I told you never to call me.  Jesus fucking Christ, I’m fucked.”

“What are you talking about? You said you’d be at the bar by seven. I just wanted to see you to tell you what happened today.”

“Jane got home later than usual and she made us have dinner together.” He paused to catch his breath. “ Look, Jane started asking if I ever heard of you. I said no, but it was like she didn’t believe me. Then, you called. I have you as Ray in my phone so if she gets to snooping around she won’t think anything about it. But she heard your voice. Then, she came at me with a knife and told me to get the fuck out the house.”

“She knows you came here?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Look, Dick, this is what I wanted to tell you. Remember I told you I had an interview today?”

Dick lied “Yeah, I remember.”

“It was with your wife!”

Dick’s eyes opened so wide he thought they’d fall out. He saw his comfortable stability crumbling around him. “What the fuck you do? You tell her about us or something? Cuz she knows! I swear to God, she knows.”

“No, I didn’t say anything but when I saw a picture of you two on her desk I guess I started to act a little weird. I just couldn’t help it. See you two together…”

“Shit.” He said.

“Look, let’s just get out of here. For good. I have family in Florida. We could start over clean. Together, they way we talked about sometimes. You know I don’t even like it here. Never have.” The notion of leaving the city and going to a new place made her happy. Jasmine liked new starts. She has made so many of them.

“You know I ain’t got shit, right. No money, no credit cards, nothing. And I can’t even go back to the house and get any of my stuff.”

“Why not, it’s yours!”

“I think Jane is crazy. She told me once about a neighbor who was cheating on his wife. She described what she would do to him and, fuck, she was dead serious. Her face changed and shit like in the movies.”

“But I met her today. I can’t picture her being able to do much.”

“She can. And if given the chance I think she would. She’s got another side I ain’t never seen in nobody.”

“Well, look. I have some money put away. Enough to buy plane tickets and get you some clothes. Nothing fancy, but enough to hold you over until you start working.”

“We got to do this soon because I don’t have a good feeling about any of this.”

“You know, it’s better any way. My lease is up in a few days and I can get the deposit money back.”

“All the extra cash will help.”

“You know something, Dick? I love you.”

Dick felt uneasiness in his stomach. He was being trapped again by another one. He lied “I love you too.”

*             *             *             *             *             *             *

Jane sat in the kitchen staring at the wall. Behind her placid face her mind was anything but. She had no control over her thoughts. Blood. Blood would clean this mess she thought. Jane was relieved by this thought. Just imaging Dick’s spilt blood calmed her, even intoxicated her. She felt gay. She skipped into the bedroom and retrieved a dusty shoe box from the depths of her closet. She blew the dust off the lid and opened it up. There lay a Grendel .380 auto that her father had given to her for protection before moving into the city. Daddy loves me she thought. She struggled to remember her father’s instructions on how to use the thing. Insert the clip full of bullets into the opening in the handle and push until it clicks. Then pull back the metal part on top all the way back and let it go. There. On projectile of death was awaiting his orders from the trigger and eight more that couldn’t wait to follow. Jane put the gun in her purse along with a few other items and went off towards Spring Street. She had a grin from ear to ear. Between the streaked make-up from crying and the gleeful look in her eyes she looked like a demented clown.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

Dick is completely propelled through life by his natural urges and impulsive behavior. Less than one hour ago his married life practically ended with his wife chasing him out of the house with a knife. Now, he was sitting on the toilet with his head thrown back in ecstasy while Jasmine’s large wet lips pleasured the part of him that does most of the thinking. Dick felt the eruption coming and as his toes curled and his eyes went into the back of his head the door of the bathroom was kicked in.

A demented clown stood above the degrading love scene taking place on the toilet. Jane was outside of her mind. She was watching the whole scene from behind a distorted camera lense.

“Sorry to interrupt, the front door was open so I let myself in.” She had the gun pointed at Dick and Jasmine.

“Mmmmm, that looks good, mind if I have some.” While still training the gun on Jasmine’s head she took Dick’s member in her hand. She squeezed tight. “So, I wasn’t enough for you, huh? Because I’m not a little whore that would suck your cock while you’re on the toilet?” She squeezed tighter, yet. “I can be a little whore.” Dick looked deep into Jane’s eyes but Jane wasn’t there.  While Dick and Jane were locked at the eyes Jasmine went for the gun. The gun fell from Jane’s hand. In the dimly lit bathroom it was hard to see what was going on. There was a scramble for the gun.  First Jane had it, then Jasmine. Dick just sat on the toilet, naked and dumbfounded. Jasmine ended up with the gun and had it pointed at Jane.

Jane leaned against the wall and slowly went to the floor. She was whimpering.

“Call the police, Dick.” Jasmine said. Dick didn’t move.

She repeated “Call the police, now.” Dick still didn’t move. He was in a trance. All he kept thinking about was how he drove this women, a good woman who he knows loved him and took care of him, to this point. He felt sick. He hated himself. He needed to fix everything.

“Snap the fuck out of it and call the police” Jasmine said.

Dick slowly stood up. He legs were weak. He took the gun out of Jasmines hand. He looked at Jane and whispered “Sorry.” He looked at Jasmine and said the same. He then put the gun to his temple as he had seen in the movies many times and pulled the trigger. The hollow point tipped bullet responded with a loud bang. It first broke the skin of the temple and as it penetrated the skull the metal that encases the lead center peeled back like a banana as it tore through his brain. All of this took place over an eternity for Dick. For Jane and Jasmine, Dick hit the floor with a naked thud before they could even compute what he was doing.

When I was 5 years old my parents made me go to Sunday school at the Temple. I’m sure it sucked like a church Sunday school; it’s the same thing for all you Christ-e’s. Anyways, our teacher asked us to draw a picture of what we thought God looked like and to draw something ”he” created. Being a 5-year-old I drew someone who resembled Ernie (Bert’s lover) next to a wishing well. After the drawings were finished the teacher came around and held up each of our pictures…then ripped them up. One by one she ripped them saying, “That’s not God. God is alllll around you and doesn’t have a face.” Why am I taking you on a walk down eff’ed up childhood lane? Because today I read an article that is as shocking as it is amazing in 2009. An 8-year-old boy was sent home from school after asked to “draw a picture that reminds him of CHRISTmas” because he drew a crucifix. Not just that though, he was told to undergo psychological evaluation. WTF is wrong with people? Who the F says what that vision looks like to you in your mind? Is that not a form of brainwashing?? Oddly enough I was behind some white-trash guy in a pick-up truck with a sticker on the back that said, “There is no Christmas without Christ.” Ironic. Check out the video here… http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34433914/ns/us_news-education/?GT1=43001 un-f-ing believable. I wonder what the school would have done if he had drawn this….

Whoever coined the phrase “a good cry” was really onto something. There must be some very specific biochemical reactions that occur, neurons doing their thing… because on the infrequent occasions when I have such a cry, it causes the most amazing physical sensation. The closest thing that I can compare it to is the feeling of taking a really nice sedative. Yes, I am using a drug comparison, which probably says all sorts of unsavoury things about me, but still and all, a good cry eases the soul.

Also: Rhett is very cute with Brother. Every night, he wants to sleep in the same crib with Jasper, even though Rhett has a real live big boy bed in which he naps. But at night, nothing but Brother will do. At naptime, Brother’s bed gets moved to another room and he falls asleep like a dream. Then, the fight for Rhett to nap begins. He insists he wants to nap with Brother, but he is not allowed. He needs to nap alone, but he is “too strong.” (Seriously, that is what he says…. “mama, I too strong.”) But not too strong to take a nap with Jasper, evidently?

At any rate naptime went smoothly today. He was too strong to nap with brother, so he napped alone. And tonight, right before bed, he announced that he had to pee in potty, and he marched right on over and did his business, flushed, and washed his hands. Now if we can get some concistency going, that will be great.

Peace out and word to yo mama.

Well, I finished my Christmas shopping today! YEAH!

Didn’t intend to and actually, it’s by default so don’t go to thinking that I’m organized or nothing like that.

I had a dermatologist appointment. It was 2 for 1 day! Two vials of Botox for the price of one! This was going to be my birthday treat to myself. I deserved it, dammit! I’ve had a rough year (and it was showing on my face).

I should know by now that I cannot resist something if I want it. Or, the doc presents it as a real bargain.

Doc…”We have another special on a NEW product (I’m a sucker for new products). You get a $75.00 check back in the mail! Plus, it’s priced at a holiday rate.”

She had me at “NEW”, “check back” and “holiday rate”. I didn’t stand a chance. A part of my brain ( a very tiny part) was telling me to stop and think about it. I was not intending to spend more money that I had allotted for “maintenance”. LOL It cracks me up that it’s called a maintenance procedure. Seems that once you’ve attacked and gotten rid of those pesky wrinkles (not all of them, just some), you have to do UPKEEP!

Plus, I had shelled out over hundred bucks for Latisse, the new product being touted to grow long and luscious lashes. Brooke Shields says that it works and that’s good enough for me. Actually, I had bought the Latisse before and it did grow hair (warning…be careful if you buy it to watch where you put it!)  I am eyebrow-challenged….never really had any. Most people think that this is a blessing since I don’t have to pluck but do you have any idea how much like an old ,ancient,recently dead long time in-the-ground Bette Davis you can end up looking like if you don’t draw your eyebrows on just right with an eyebrow pencil. There has been more than one (dozen or more) occasions that I would get ready to go out and happen to catch sight of my eyebrows in my car’s rearview mirror and find myself looking at “What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?”. I’d be  several miles away from home and have nothing to fix them with. And, there has been the embarrassing occasion that I drew on one eyebrow and then would get distracted by the phone ringing or something. I’d realize that I’d had totally forgotten about the other one when while having conversations with people and find them staring at my eyebrows  one eyebrow. Regular readers (yeah, I’m up to *) know that I’ve had eyebrow mishaps in the past. So, I figured…heck, I’m WHITE TRASH WITH MONEY  now so I might as well do something white trashy with it. So, Happy Birthday to me from me. I can fulfill my dream to have an actual set of eyebrows.

So, long story short….I spent much more money than I had planned to de-wrinkle, maintain, and grow hair on my face. In fact, I spent just about all of the money that I had left to finish Christmas shopping. But, I’m not really too worried. I’ve got a plan! Everyone on my Christmas list who hasn’t been bought for yet will receive a Christmas card with one of the following pictures of me getting the needle. Yes, this are indeed actual pictures of me taken today. I asked the nurse to take them with my camera that I had been carrying in my purse. Why do I carry a camera around in my purse? Because I have been trying to get pics to send to the website People Of WalMart. Dang it…everytime I try to sneak up on someone in WalMart and take a pic, I get caught!

So, without any more jabbering, here I am…..(no make-up! Y’all don’t realize how much courage this took to post. NO MAKE-UP!)

Now….the BIGGER needle…

…..and once more, the BIG-ASS needle…..

So, one of these pictures (probably the first one) will be the cover of my Christmas card/letter to my nearest and dearest.

On the inside, I will write….

“I hope this proves how much that I love you all. This hurt like hell but being the wonderful person that I am, I subjected myself to intense pain and had to overcome the fear of big-ass needles so you would be proud of me as your mother/sister/aunt/niece/nana/wife/and, or, friend. I sacrificed because you deserve it!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

PS….just wait until you see what I do for you on your birthday/anniversary/promotion/new birth/Valentine’s Day/Easter/etc. I do it because I care!”

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures of me this evening. But, I promise you that I look very similar to this….

Now…gotta run and find some ice packs!

here we go gain. another white trash day!

of course here we go, another young person who lost their life to drugs. why do these young people do that? it is upsetting. but also makes me just shake my head in disgust. i have seen it too many times. and here is what really makes me feel no pity for these young people. they show up at the funeral home and have no respect for anyone. not the family of the decease, not the people who work at the funeral home (me) and not for themselves. they talk out in the hallway and i can hear what they are talking about, i go in the lounge and i can hear what they are talking about. they talk about why so and so died, but in the same conversation it’s ‘let’s go out to the car and smoke one’. they aren’t talking about smoking a cigarette. or ‘let’s go out to the car and do a line’. come on. when are you kids gonna wake up. why do you think at this very second you are standing inside a funeral home? because you so-called friend just died because he did what you want to go out to your car to do. do you want to be next? most of you are barely legal to drink. but yet you all have kids, most of you,i’m sure are unwed. just an assumption, but more than likely true. you show up looking like your going out to the club. do you not have any respect for anyone or yourself? i hate working when we have these types of funeral or visitations, i just cannot stand it anymore. and i am so so so so so so sick of hearing about what a “good guy” or great girl” he or she was, blah blah blah……..not only at work, but on the news when someone shoots someone or gets shot in a gang related incident or someone who was drunk driving and killed someone and their family appears on the news and talks about what a caring great person this person was. BULLSHIT. i am so sick of it. then have to turn around and see it in person at work. makes me want to gag. i wonder often where the parents were while this person was growing up? yeah yeah, i know, all kids do stupid shit and parents cannot be there 24 hours a day. i know this first hand, i did alot of stupid shit when i was a teenager, BUT, my parents taught me right from wrong and i knew when too much was too much. i knew the consequences. i knew BETTER! i know all kids do not have great parents and aren’t always taught things like that. it is unfortunate. but really, once you reach a certain age, you yourself should know better and know right from wrong. i also know that times are tough everywhere and people feel as if they just can’t handle any more. whether it is a loss of a job, home, etc… it sucks! i also know this first hand. right now, no matter how many hours of work i get, i know that i am lucky! i have seen too many young people who have taken their lives because of this. but anyway…. what i am really pissed about are these ‘kids’ that show up to see their friend who just died because he over dosed and they are standing around talking about going to do drugs themselves. they stand up in front of the room full of people and cry and carry on because they just lost this person but turn around and go do the same thing.

also, again, with the whole money issue. if you do not have enough money to have a big funeral, then DON’T! i am getting so frustrated with people and hearing about they have no money, which, believe me, I know! but yet they sit there and argue with us that they want this and that but they can’t pay for it. now days, things are tough, ALL OVER! even the funeral business! if you can’t afford to have more than one day of visitation then don’t and don’t argue with me that we are charging too much and being unfair because you can’t afford it. we offer so many different packages to fit what you can afford. and, again, we do not take payments. i just can’t stand getting an attitude when people ask me if they can make payments and i say no. we just don’t. first reason being because in the past, when we have accepted payments…..well, guess what, we are still waiting on those payments. i have people from back in 1998 that still have no paid their bill. that is why we don’t take payments. sometimes we will give a discount. or if say, you’re a hundred bucks shy, then yeah, we will tell you, okay, you have 2 weeks to get us the rest. but come on people. i’m sick of people rolling their eyes at me when i give them prices. or on the phone when people call for pricing, and i give them a price and they get rude with me. why on earth are being rude to me. you don’t know me. you asked me a price and i gave it to you. if you don’t like it, then say ‘thank you, good-bye”. is that so freaking hard?

if you know someone who is going to be laid out at a funeral home and you know the times of the visitation and the funeral service, don’t come early. i cannot stress this enough. you will not be let in. i don’t care if you are on your lunch hour. i don’t care if you are going out-of-town. i don’t care if you have to work. i don’t care if someone gave you’re the wrong times. if you come early you will not be let in. if the family has not been there yet, what makes you think that you will be allowed to go in? if it was one of your family members that was laid out and you had not viewed him/her yet would you like it if someone went in before you? probably not. most people are like that. and i don’t blame them. and again, do not roll your eyes and argue, it will get you no where!

when making arrangements if we tell you that we already have 2 visitations starting the same day you are thinking of having yours that usually means we are suggesting you wait a day. we won’t make you wait, and we may even say it to you, “we already have 2 families here that day, would you like to wait a day, because it is going to be very crowded here and you  may not have enough room, also the lounge area will be crowded and if you plan on bringing in any food there may not be a lot of room for you, we will do our best, but……” listen to our advice. ! please! because when you decide that you do not want to wait one more day and then realize once you are there that you are not happy because you have no room for you food or family to relax in the lounge. or the coat closets are full of the other families coats or the other family/families are being loud or rude, do NOT come and complain to us about it. we warned you! don’t tell me that you are unhappy with your arrangements and the way the funeral home is handling things because the other family is pissing you off or they are getting more of our attention. this is what you chose to do this is what you get. we TOLD you.

if you want to witness a cremation, you must pay! it is not free. don’t sit that and tell me you have never heard of such a thing. you have to pay the crematory. we DO NOT cremate on our premises, it is illegal for a funeral home to run a crematory or a cemetery. in my state, anyway. so we actually have to transport the deceased to the crematory we use. so if you want to witness it, you have to pay the funeral directors charge to go out there, because the crematory requires a funeral director to be present. you also have to pay the crematory. and NO you do not actually get to see the body. yes, people have asked me that. whatever the body is in, that is what they are cremated in. casket and all.

so my parting words are, if you can’t afford it, then don’t do it. there are options, use them. you are not having a funeral for you everyone that is showing up to pay their respects. you are having a funeral for the deceased. don’t feel as if you have to put on some big show with all these flowers and all the food you can pack into our lounge. the people who are coming to view the deceased are the ones who should be bringing you food! or offering to do things for YOU. not the other way around. the funeral home is NOT a restraunt. it is not a social hall. it is not a banquet facility. it is not a family reunion. for those of you who feel it necessary to stand around and laugh and carry on like a bunch of animals, take it someplace else. this is not the place for that. of course laughter is the best medicine, but do it with respect. don’t show up drunk or high and make an idiot of yourself. dress appropriately. act civilized!

Every year, I go Christmas shopping for the people on my list. My list has become pretty short for the last few years. I’m tired of trying to buy something for every Tom, Dick, Harry, Mary, and Bobbysue on my list. When you try to buy for many, you end up buying a lot of cheap stuff that nobody uses. So, I rewrote my list and am only buying for my immediate family. That way, I can buy them something nice that they will really use (hopefully).

I tend to buy ME stuff, too. That’s one of the problems with shopping so much this time of year. There are really good buys in stores, in cataglogs, and on the net. Free shipping, dollars off….etc.

This year I had been able to resist purchasing all of the things that I have seen that I wanted. Until last nite……

Right now, eBay is loaded with stuff. People are wanting to make extra cash and get rid of stuff. So, I was surfing my favorite catagory….ugly mug jugs. And, I found one that I HAD TO HAVE! I’ve been on the lookout for one or two female jugs to go along with the 12 guys jugs. I really didn’t intend to buy….but….I did and here she is…..

TA DA….”drumroll please”….PRESENTING…..

Can’t wait to get her! I got her at a really good price. This guy is a new artist/potter and I think he’ll go places. These jugs can cost a fortune. I told TPSkpper and TPMidge that the jugs were an investment and would be worth lots of $$$$ one day.

Their answer…..

“So would jewelry”. “sign” I’m gonna have to smack ‘em both til their artistic thinking takes over!

Gotta run…2 appts today. One dentist…ugh!!!!

Because I couldn’t think of 35…

1. Desperate Housewives. Plot holes you can drive a Freightliner through, but so fun. I have only two episodes left before season five runs out. Bleh.
2. The movie Clue. Scratch the guilt part, that movie is an underrated gem. Every single performance is hilarious. Wadsworth the Butler to Professor Plum: You were a psychiatrist with a specialisation in treating paranoid homicidal maniacs with delusions of grandeur. Professor Plum: Yes, but now I work for the United Nations. Wadsworth: Ah, so your work has not changed.
3. The movie Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. That one really is embarrassing. Sarah Jessica Parker in a dance competition?
4. Hmm, all movies or TV thus far. I’ll add Fairbanks port to the list.
5. Wine in a box.
6. Hot dogs. I have always loved hot dogs. Yes, I know they are GROSS.
7. “Kid cheese,” aka Kraft slices. On hot dogs. No, I am not pregnant.
8. Ketchup. Now this list is becoming all about food.
9. Sleeping late. And by late I mean anytime AFTER my wonderful husband gets up with all the kids. I feel guilty every single time… but not guilty enough to get up.
10. Staying up late indulging in #1.
11. Books that in no way, shape, or form could be considered “literature.” Usually mysteries.
12. Surreptitiously reading other people’s twitter updates. I don’t even have a twitter account. Perhaps this also counts as stalking?
13. Feeding the dogs leftover rice because I am too lazy to empty out the pot into the trash.
14. The hot tub. Such a waste of time, but so wonderful, especially in winter.
15. Free samples.
16. Misspelled or just plain silly neon signs outside of churches. Examples: “Your invided [sic] to Sunday services.” Also, flashing in bright red and green: “Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand!” (See also #2.) And finally, at the same church as the “repent” sign: “Jesus is coming… soon. Call 555-1234.” (Note: not the actual number written.)

What about y’all? Any confessions to make?

Here’s a gift suggestion for all of your friends and relatives who have (or are being) bullied at school, work, church, sporting events, or anywhere else.

NINJA LESSONS FROM THE BOONE CO. NINJA (FYI…Boone county borders the county that I live in here in West Virginia)

Diamond Dave and his Wonder Woman assistant teach you all the basics and get you on the road to become a full-blown Ninja….judychopping, Ninja chopping, kayrate chopping, and even how to use a regular tobaccer can as a Ninja star!

Diamond Dave is quoted on another video as saying, “Once ya go Ninja, ya never go back!”

Also, be sure and heed Dave’s warning….”This is not a game. Don’tcha be tryin’ this at home on your kids or your dog.”

On the Afro-centric website The Grio there is an article about how former baseball slugger Sam Sosa bleached his skin! WTF, Sammy!?!

This is inexplicable.

Sammy Sosa isn’t even a nigger (this is term, while probably can be reference to all people of African origin, holds most acerbic weight to those of African descent living in the United States, where it is most pejorative and friction between the races is most notorious and incendiary)

But the thing about being Black in America is that you are constantly struggling with identity, as it is also linked to your socio-economic status and  your class (even though upward mobility has a distinct glass ceiling).
See Black people of the Middle Class persuasion know of and associate with Black people of the Lower Classes, either friends and/or relatives, but White People, white people are different. Middle Class whites don’t associate with Lower Class whites. All the white people I know–Middle Class and an occasional Upper Class–have never been in the presence of what one could refer to as “ghetto-ass niggas.” Roll up into a barbershop, and you’ll be in the mix with all matter of Blacks. The type of analogous whites are effectively shunned by the other whites, and if they happen to be the relatives of the Middle Class or (God forbid) Upper Class whites, the lower class/white trash whites are ignored (or worse yet, pretended that they don’t exist).

At the end of the day is Sammy Sosa a poster child for the Anti-Nigger Machine?

No, you’re nothing unique there are miles of you lined up with misery left in your wake; another trailer park soap opera.  Yeah, you’re trash girl.

So, you might as well stop reading now because you’re already lost and this isn’t for you anyway.  No, this is to expose you so people will know you and give you plenty of space; nothing but an ugly creature wrapped in a pretty face.

I’m not saying you’re evil or even worthy of hate.  The truth is you don’t deserve one ounce of emotion because it’s all wasted.

You had the best man you’ll ever have, far more than you and your petty ego deserve.  I’ve got it wrong?  No, I know you and I’ve seen you in the cities and burbs.  You want what you want, all eyes focused on you, a crowd lost in that imagined verve. 

Your man didn’t demand respect, it was earned, and bitch, you just couldn’t deal.  You felt malice when they looked to him for guidance and friendship that was real. 

You hated that you weren’t the center of everyone’s gravity.  You offer nothing but an opinion based on some amateurish shit you heard on T.V.  Your flow is plain flawed and you think you’re 100% never wrong?  Child your eyes are on a level you’re mind will never reach.

Real people just look on in awe at your pouting, foot stamping, emotional rampage geared at nothing more than collecting some bull shit sympathy from a bunch of pussy-starved boys just as shallow and self serving. 

So your good man was stubborn, stubbornly devoted to you and all the people in his life that mattered.  That pissed you off because they didn’t just hand it to you and you’re frettin the mirror you shattered.  Wake up girl, you’ve got earn that trust if it’s going to be real.  He earned his but you made him pay for it, you gave him guilt based on some twisted shit you spit. 

It’s always some “woe is me” tale with you and with all that drama there isn’t room for a good man in your life.   So reconcile and find that next hateful bastard who will give you the drama you need to be the center of attention.

Keep talking about broken mirrors and sweeping the shards away but that won’t save you.  Need to put the pieces together and take a good long look at the selfish bitch looking back at you.

You got the ending half right.  You spared him a lifetime of your servings of guilt and misery for being what all humans should strive to be.   Yeah, you made the call but you got it twisted when you put it on him and tried to find his flaw. 

You played the coward and tried to make it his failure so you could walk away clean.  But you can’t be clean because you epitomize human filth.  I guess that’s when the mirror broke because what could look at you and and be ill.

So go get your bad boy and count your drama like grains of sand on a beach.  Or maybe a find a sycophant to stoke the illusion of your perfection you’ll really never reach.

Nothing but a selfish bitch.  No, nothing special about you.  Just another trailer park soap opera in a long line of sequels just waiting to come true.

Fat people suck.

I’m American. You’re American. We’re all somewhat American. If you want to fit into that super-consumer fat ass with a jacked-up gas-guzzling white trash mobile wearing your BBQ stained wife beater tank top that you bought at Walmart for a buck oh’ five, then FINE. Good for you. You’re a piece of shit.

What is it with fat white trash and their love for theme parks? South Park recently aired a hilarious episode about this and I laughed my ass off. Okay, their plot was more geared towards minorities, but still. Fat people infest theme parks. The last time I went I saw two- count it- TWO giantly fat people get kicked off rides because their FUPA got in the way of the safetly bar and it wouldn’t close. If you are SO FAT that the safety bar on a rollercoaster won’t close then just shoot yourself right now. Thanks for almost endangering MY life because you couldn’t resist the late night dollar menu at Wendy’s.

If ten orders of 99cent chicken nuggest just isn’t cutting it and you happen to be in the Magic Kingdom at Disney World, then why don’t you just pick up a genetically altered giant turkey leg to munch on? 

NOM NOM TURKEY LEG!

Seriously? Giant turkey legs? Aren’t those reserved for obese Kings of Old England that probably have the gout and rule over peasants? As fat white trash, aren’t you technically a peasant? You don’t deserve a turkey leg. No wait, no turkey deserves to have his leg nom’d like that as it’s bitter end.

Call Jenny Craig, get on a treadmill, or just WALK around Disney instead of driving those stupid carts, and lose the weight of that whole other person you’ve been carrying around with you most your life.

Eat a carrot, you fat piece of shit.

YOU SUCK.

THIS IS SOOO BEAUTIFUL…….

Well, it was sooo beautiful but apparently, I’m the only one that can see it. Blank screen with snow is showing up!  What’s up with that?……

So, as not to leave you with nothing, nada, zilch….let’s see “What Up With That”….

WHEW!!!!  The last month of so has not been a bed of roses nor a rose garden……..Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson

“I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.
Along with the sunshine,
There’s gotta be a little rain sometimes.
When you take, you gotta give, so live and let live,
Or let go.
I beg your pardon,
I never promised you a rose garden.”

I’ve been sick. I’m sick of being sick. And, I’m tired. I’m sick of being sick and tired.

Divertiulous is a mean bitch. I though tit was gone but noooooo……..I’ve having to do “bathroom mapping” before I go anywhere. I was seen and treated at one of those “treat ‘em and street ‘em” clinics. I guess it’s about time to break down and find a real doctor. One that I can see on a regular basis and will, in general, treat ALL of ME instead of seeing different clinic docs for problems of the mouth, butt ,and innards. On the up side, I have always harped about being regular to my kids (who make jokes about it  now).

TPSkipper…..”I don’t feel well. I have a headach and my belly hurts”

TPMidge….”Don’t tell Mom. She’ll just tell you that you are not crapping enough!”

It’s my potty and I’ll laugh if I want to…..and I am a firm believer that if you don’t rid yourself of waste, it just lays there in your  nice warm body and rots. The rotting fume gives off gases and makes you ill…..and fart a lot.  That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!!!!

And, I’m so very tired. But, then, who is not during this season? This was “one of those days”. This was a day that anything that could go wrong did go wrong.

Wired? Yes, sirree! My brain feel like it is experiencing short circuiting pertaining to thoughts. Here’s what it feels like…

you are driving down an interstate and listening to radio station. The signal fades and you pick up one or two background stations. Then, either the original station clears momentarily or one of the background stations becomes the loudest and has the most clarity. I feel like I might short-circuit ’bout anytime. WATCH OUT….THERE SHE BLOWS!

Forget about the stuff above…..this is soooo much better…..got this in my email today.

If that is not extreme obsession with hair, I don’t know what is.  Can this be considered child abuse?  I think it is, what do you think?  An infant with weave, are you kidding me?
 
 
 
The mother of an infant daughter wearing her first lacefront wig writes: “It’s never too early for my baby to start looking glamorous like Beyonce!”
Mom said she had the wig custom made human hair to match her own lacefront. “I wouldn’t be caught dead without my lacefront and my baby won’t either!” she wrote.

But is that adhesive glue safe or gentle enough for the child’s baby hairs?

Gosh, I hope this is not real and has just been photoshopped!

In the old house, I tried very hard to get a nap most days. I usually don’t sleep well at nights, so if I was fortunate enough that my babies napped simultaneously, I would do a sort of a minimalistic cleaning, and then I would leap into bed. Contrary to my nighttime sleep from hell that requires copious amounts of prescription sleep medications to have any hope of even being remotely passable, I can pretty much nap on demand in the daytime.

By today, I had yet to nap in this house, mostly due to boy naps being in disarray but also having somewhat to do with wanting to get boxes unpacked and stuff. But today — oh, today! — I was so exhausted, and both boys fell asleep within twenty minutes of one another. So I lay down, wrapped up in my puffy comforter, secure in the knowledge that I would soon be asleep. I could just tell. And, as it happened, I was right. I fell asleep, deeply and wonderfully, and awoke… well I’d like to say refreshed but I was really pretty groggy. I got up and checked the time. 1.37pm, still scads of time before I had to go pick up the kids at school. “Just a few more minutes,” I thought to myself. “The boys are not up and I could really just lay down a little while longer, it feels AMAZING.”

So I lay down again. And fell asleep. And had the weirdest dream — I dreamed that I woke up at 2.57, and I was going to be late picking up the girls from school, and I needed to round up my sleeping babies now. But somehow in the dream, my dad showed up (from Canada? who knows) to pick up the girls, telling me, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Except that our car had been stolen and we couldn’t drive to school. And so I tried calling my husband at work, but I kept pressing the wrong numbers on the phone, you know how you do in a dream (or do you? this failed attempt to dial a phone is a recurring theme in my dreams), and I never got through. Eventually, we found a car but we were already late.

Then I woke up, feeling quite leaden. “Oh thank GOD that was a dream,” thought I. “I actually have plenty of time.” So I got up and looked at the clock.

It said — no word of a lie — 3.02pm. As in, I was already late and still had a 15-minute drive ahead of me. And Rhett was in my room, having apparently removed his diaper to attempt to poop on the potty, but he pooped on the floor instead, and got it lots of other places. “Mama,” he informed me, “I have poop on hands.”

Well, that was about ALL I had time to deal with. I washed his hands, slapped a water diaper on him (the only thing I could see), and hauled he and little brother (who I suspected — correctly as it turned out — was also poopy, but I did not have time to change him) out to the van. We hightailed it to school, twenty minutes late as it turned out. I’d already fielded a call on the cell phone from the school secretary asking where I was and I sent along my abject apologies, along with promises that I was five minutes away.

So all’s well that ends well. Rhett got a bath, and the girls got Dairy Queen as a consolation for my big screw-up. Hopefully tomorrow will be more smooth.

I still wonder how on earth I needed a two and a half hour nap.