Something Evil Has A Hard On For Me

And that’s not a good thing.

(WARNING: Considering I’ve had a crappy week and I’m feeling particularly bummed out this evening…a very rude rant is to ensue)

Where to begin, where to begin…How about a “Fuck Off” list?

Fuck Off IRS! It’s not my fault my job only took 2% out of my paycheck last year rather than the 10% you usually ramrod me for. I fucking claimed ZERO!!!! Send them the $900 dollar bill! Oh, you’re sending me the tab…no problem, I haven’t paid enough to put one of my therapists kids through college to have not picked up a coping skill or two from him. So how’s this for coping, every time you send me one of those threatening “Pay us or we’ll break your kneecaps” letters, I’m going to send you a check….for ten fucking dollars. And ya know what? As long as you cash that ten dollar check, you can’t send my ass to collections. How‘s that for coping?

Fuck Off Dickhole Who Subpoenaed D! Your wife is a goddamned schizo thief. D saw her steal. Three cops saw her steal. She admitted to stealing! Just because she’s married to some sorry ass shyster dickhole divorce lawyer….YOU….doesn’t give her a license to run around town stealing shit. Wanna make the world a better place? First you need to kick her ass for stealing, then you need to eat a bullet you stupid fuck! Should you choose not to go out that way, I hope you die of gonorrhea of the eyeballs and when you go to hell (where most of your kind goes) there are giant rabid gay Rottweilers hung like John Holmes waiting to pound your ass for an eternity. Oh D will show up for that deposition, but you’re going to wish to Christ he hadn’t.

Fuck Off Mother Nature! I’ve got enough problems on my plate right now. I could really do without adding “menstruation” to the list! I can't go one single month without my womb telling me what to do for a week.

Fuck Off Whoever Or Whatever Possessed D! I awoke a few days ago at three in the morning, rolled over only to find a bald man asleep where D should have been. Upon further inspection I discovered it WAS D. He’d shaved his fucking head. Why? Well while cutting his own hair (why he’d do this is beyond me) he “slipped up” and “shaved it a little too close” so he decided to go ahead and “shave it all off”. At 33 you’re too old to be doing stupid shit like this- he must have been possessed! Or he was showing Britney that he’s “down with the cause”.

Fuck Off Giant Spider! You didn’t get squished because I was scared of you. You got squished because you ambushed me and I have no respect for sneaky little bastards like you. You know what the difference is between you and me? I squished you to your face. You, you sly little shit, waited until my back was turned to jump me. Fucker.

Fuck Off Oscars! And the entire retarded spectacle surrounding them. I didn’t watch them….why? Because I’ve got more important shit going on in my life and even if I didn’t have anything to do I’d find, nay, actively search for something more constructive to do with my time!

Fuck Off Blogger! This “new” set up isn’t any better than the old one. All it accomplished was to make me think up stupid fucking labels to categorize my posts with. If I had wanted that feature, I would have gone with an online journal service that offered it and didn’t force itself on its users like a greedy eager prom date. Thanks for fucking up a good thing!

Yeah, smart move asshat!

Alternatively titled "Strike and Awe Until I Get my Shit Part 2: A Happy Ending"


Dear Retarded eBay Store Merchant,

Guess you got the picture, huh? What was it about the “Strike and Awe Until I Get my Shit“ campaign that finally made you fold- the emails….the 800 voicemails….? I hadn‘t even gotten to the snail mail part! Did you think because you finally picked up your phone and had quite a lovely conversation about my MIA shit after the 500th call you could pacify me and I’d shrink back into the shadows to forever leave you in peace? Without my shit? All that conversation accomplished was to tell me a little more about you, your family, your background and all I wanted it to do for you was tell you how serious I was about getting my shit. I don't think I got that message through clearly enough as I was still shitless a week later. Well, 300 more phone calls must have been quite the surprise for you. Your decision to finally send me my shit on February 20th (as the package is postdated) was a good one, because for the last week I’ve been pricing plane tickets.

I will admit, I don’t understand the message behind the shit you sent gratis with my original order. That includes the “I Heart You” lollipop. What? Were you trying to freak me out a little by packaging everything in that heart covered ziplock? Were you trying to express in the form of heart shaped candy and free shit that after our lovely conversation you’ve become smitten by me? A little enamored? Well, let me explain something to you, you freaky little fucknut- I don’t freak that easy! In fact you could pretty much do anything- shy of me coming home to find my Betta boiling in his bowl on the stove- and I wouldn’t give a shit.

So, in summery- good job on getting your shit together and sending my shit! That's the best $5 fucking dollars I've spent in ages! As for the gratis shit? I’ve justified keeping it based on the fact that I had to wait well over a month to get my shit. However, I threw away the lollipop as you probably dipped it in poison. Have a nice life penis wrinkle!

Sincerely,
Glad I Finally Got My Shit

P.S.
Call me, we’ll do dinner. XOXOXO

Are we enamored with the anus?

Crapping candy dispensers; a popular new holiday trend or have I been under the rock too long? As you know, I have an incredibly skewed and convoluted sense of humor so naturally, I intend to collect them all. That being said…

I found this in the grocery store this evening sitting among various Easter treats and goodies. If you’re a traditional Christian (which I‘m not), nothing says “Hey, thanks for dying horrifically for our sins and happy resurrection, Jesus” like a toy chicken shitting candy. Amazon has the whole farm animal set and they even provide the following product description…

Product Features

~Fun with incontinent farm animals!

~Set includes 4 candy creatures: Crazy Daisy the Pooping Cow, Porky Pooper the Pig, Hippy Chicky, and The Pooping Bull.

~Push down on the behind of the cow, pig, or bull to dispense brown jelly beans.

~The happy baby chicken is a wind-up toy that dispenses colorful candies from its posterior as it waddles along.

~Sorry, toiletries not included.

Now if that isn’t glamorizing the rectal misuse/abuse of farm animals, I don’t know what is.

If flavorful farm animal excrement doesn’t tickle your fanny fancy, how about the Christmas/Winter line; these dispensers exuberantly shout “Happy Birthday baby Jesus! We celebrate your birth by giving each other plastic Reindeer, Santa’s, Penguins, Polar Bear and Snowmen dumping out Holiday Cheer!” The advertising for these made sure to emphasize that these make “great stocking stuffers”!




Oh not clear enough for you? Well, this little perverted illustration should make the situation crystal. Really I ask, who needs to see a reindeer taking a 50mph Malt Ball projectile shit? Not me, I say! I was sold on the mental picture alone. But hey, thanks for putting it out there for me.

Who gets/gives these toys as gifts? Well, as I mentioned, I’m aiming to collect them all but tfg over at Assclownopolis got the jump on me by receiving the pooping sheep as a Christmas gift.

All of this leads one to wonder a few things

1. What’s next… plastic cats crapping Tootsie Rolls, guinea pigs pooping Milk Duds, rats excreting Rasinettes, dogs defecating mini Baby Ruth’s?

2. What must the countries manufacturing these little gems for the good ole US of A think of us? and

3. Are we inadvertently telling our children that eating something that comes out of the ass end of an animal is a positive thing? I predict the next generation’s psychological wellbeing going straight down the shitter- no pun intended. Then again, I made that prediction well before I knew about these little plastic gems.

He's My Favorite Boy

After being sick with a nasty case of the crud, taking critters to the vet, having a mini “break down” (hahaha "mini"), changing meds…AGAIN, almost quitting my job, finding out D is being transferred (AGAIN) and blah, blah, blah...All in a mere 7 day span.... Seriously. Here’s my little slice of heaven. I’d like to stay like this, with him, for the next six months.

This grainy cell phone picture captures the all too elusive yet intensely coveted “nap time” in the Aza household.

SWAT Team Hand Signals

Ever wonder what they're saying to each other?


If you can't see the captions real well, click on the picture- it should bring up the whole thing at the original size.


It's an oldie but a goodie. I jacked this from over at Stale Betty's place; here is the original post. Rose's husband posted it during last year's Blog-A-Thon.

Got A Little Captain In Ya?

So we met and I defiled a few celebrities while on vacation. I was touring one of the local museums when I saw him…I was all like “OH MY GOD!!!” and he was all like “Argh! I’m Captain Jack, nice ta meet ye!” and then I was like “Oh wow! Can I get a picture with you!? No one would ever believe this story if I didn’t get a picture!” and Captain Jack was like “Aye! A picture for the lass!”

So I had to cut the holy hell out of the pictures to keep innocent bystanders, well, innocent...

Then I was all like “So hey, is that a codpiece you’re wearing or are you just thrilled to meet me?” and he was all like “Aye, fair wench! I’m just happy, nay, thrilled ta see ye!” and then he was like “Argh! No pictures of the fair wench feelin’ up the codpiece!!!”




So naturally one thing led to another and I was voted “Best Codpiece Inspector Wench”! Woo-Hoo!!!! A dream come true as you can imagine...




See, this little story just goes to show that if you set your sights high in life, you may just end up rich- with hot pirate booty (or on your knees in front of hot pirate booty...either way it's a win-win, right?).

It also goes to show that I’m a total deviant willing to do anything to appease my lusty hot Johnny Depp fantasies….

Boozin’ And Bathin’ In The Wild Wild West

We had some “Old Tyme Photos” taken this past week while on vacation…they weren’t the professional kind as they only took about twenty minutes to dress for, pose and take- but they’re kinda cute anyway. I‘d like to add for the record, if anyone has anything to say about my fat albino thighs, you can keep your thoughts to yourself. I quit smoking last month and might have picked up a pound or two.

Here’s D looking rather inebriated and slightly irritated...

Here he is with a fat piece of crap chaw in his mouth...

Where I really, really, really hate pictures of myself (especially those above) I actually like this one because I wasn’t faking the smile. The lady taking the pictures got me laughing really hard and *click*, there it is...



This one I’m not too pleased about because at this point I was getting bored and colder by the minute. D said something stupid right as she took the picture. She said it was her favorite because I look mischievous. D said it was his favorite because he’s the one that insisted I hold the whip. I think I’m sporting the “Retarded Indiana Jones Reject” look....

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow…

I really want a cigarette!

My cell was exploding in my scrub pocket at work Wednesday night and I was slammed busy with patients- it was just me and the pharmacist. Irritated I cupped the phone to my ear making a feeble attempt to hide it in my hair so the patients wouldn’t see it. I snarled “Hello!” I heard D’s voice on the other end. “Honey”…oh geez, I’ve heard that voice before. That’s the voice I heard when he totaled the rental car and was on the way to the hospital. That’s the voice I heard when the drill slipped and he drilled a hole through his arm. That’s the voice I heard when he cut the tip of his index finger off. That’s the voice of him bordering panic. I dropped everything (literally) and walked to the back of the pharmacy “What happened! Are you okay?” My answer?….”Meow!!!!”. “D, what the hell was that and why does it sound like you’re in the car?” He took a deep breath “Aza, someone threw her out in the parking lot, she would have been killed on the main road if I didn’t grab her.” *sigh* “D, that had better not be a cat. Just tell me it’s not a cat. We’re going on vacation, we can’t afford to vet a cat right now, it’s two hundred bucks we just don’t have.” at this point he begins pleading “Aza, she’s been starved! I’m going home to get a cat carrier and the crate. I’ll crate her at work until I figure something out but I‘ve got to get some food and water into her.” So, what could I do? I’m at work, busy as hell and he’s already got her in the car. “D, she’s not coming home. Do you understand me? We’ll pay the vet bills but you better find a foster and you better find one quick. By the way, you know when your boss comes in you’re going to be fired, right?” exasperated with me he said “I’ll figure something out. I couldn’t just leave her in the middle of a 5 lane road to be killed! Meeeooowww *click*”

I was stuck and felt completely desperate for him and the cat. I couldn’t help him because I was the only one at work and there was no one to cover my shift. Once I got off I drove over to his job and saw her. Poor little thing- you can’t really tell by the (crappy cell phone) picture but she is terribly malnourished. The vet was disgusted when he ran his hand down her back and was able to feel every rib and vertebra. Thankfully one of D’s coworkers said she’d foster her until we could place her (bless you kind woman!!!). Another coworker stepped up and offered to adopt her if we couldn’t find her a home after she’s spayed.

She’s out of the cold rain (it’s been dipping down into the upper 20’s here at night) and has a full tummy. After the vaccines, FeLV/FIV test (she’s negative!), general check up, worming, spay, and some decent food….well, that’s just two hundred bucks well spent. Here’s hoping I can still scratch up enough dough to get the freaking hell out of this Gdamned city, for at least a day, during our time off. I was planning on taking him to Cape Kennedy to tour the Space Station- he’s never been but has always wanted to go. I also wanted to spend a night in St. Augustine. We’ll see.

Here’s Annie! Yeah, we named her Annie. Shut up.

On a side note: There’s just something so completely hot about a guy who has a soft spot in his heart for kids, animals and/or the elderly. Period.