Surreptitious Psychosis

tap, tap, tap

2009-09-18T10:54:00.001-05:00

Is this thing still on?

Pass the Depends please…

2008-12-17T13:37:00.003-05:00

3 decades. 30 years. 10,950 days.

No matter how creative you get with the math, 30 simply isn’t 29.

As you can see Here I dealt with 28 with the deepest level of grace and modesty. There is no link for my 29th birthday as during those months total hell was breaking loose. And now we come to 30.

Needless to say I’m not happy with the latest turn of events. It’s official, as of the 19th regardless of how I say it I won’t be able to say, “I’m 20 something”. That just plain sucks. Most of the people I have relayed my current dilemma to don’t get what the big deal is, “So you’ll be thirty, what’s the problem?” Thirty for a woman, this woman anyway, is a big scary monster. By far worse than anything I could have dreamt up was stalking me, laying in wait under my bed as a small child. Nope, this is HUGE. I won’t be “in my twenties” anymore and that bothers me. To hell with growing old gracefully, unless you consider kicking, screaming, cursing and wailing “Dear God WWHHHYYYY!!!???” graceful.

Dinner for 10 (small villages)...

2008-11-25T02:20:00.004-05:00

So my menu is less than traditional but who gives a crap? My guests will just have to understand 4 simple truths- 1/ It’s the holiday’s, I’m busy. 2/ It’s better than nothing. 3/ They’re welcome to feast on my craptastic always entertaining festive attitude. And 4/ There’s no bill at the end of the meal.

~Whore derves~

Awesome Pumpkin Spice Graham crackery dip (that I’m going to claim I made from scratch) to put on cookies - Check
Nilla Wafers and Ginger Snaps - Check
800 Deviled Eggs - Check
Enough sliced cheese to constipate an elephant - Check
Loads of those little “designer” crackers (that’ll make everyone think I’m classy) for cheese - Check
Triscuits (loaded with fiber- insert evil laugh here) and Wheat Thins in case people hate designer crackers - Check

~Mains & Sides~

Turkey - Check
Ham - Check
Metric ton of Stuffing - Check
5 gallons of Gravy - Check
Canned Yams (but I'm going to say I picked them myself) - Check
That Cranberry flavored gel crap in a can - Check
4 billion red potatoes for homemade mashed taters - Check
Boots to mash taters - Check
Creepy Cheesy broccoli rice casserole (that I’ll probably hate) - Check
Dinner Rolls - Check
Sweet Potato casserole - Check

~Dessert~

Pineapple Upside Down Cake - Check
Cupcakes - Check
Peach Pie (I’m also claiming I made from scratch) - Check

~Extras~

First Aid kit - Check
Pepto Bismol - Check
Prep H - Check
911 on speed dial - Check
Alibi - Check

Now I'm really poor. Happy Thanksgiving, you're not getting shit for Christmas!

Wow, I really needed that!

2008-11-03T14:07:00.001-05:00

and didn't even know it.

Sometimes you don’t realize just how fast life is moving and the impact stressful situations are making until you take a minute and step out of it all; when you’re granted a momentary respite.

I went golfing yesterday. Nothing really stood out about the game. The weather was nice- I thought it might rain by the 9th hole but it held off, the course is one of my favorites, the company was fabulous (as usual), I didn’t miss a single green off the tee, I hit my irons better than usual and after only 7 months of playing I scored a 96. There was nothing extraordinary about the game. However, it was one of the most enjoyable, relaxed moments I can remember in recent memory. I was actually depressed when it was over.

Now, back to the real world containing election bullshit, despondent husband’s, sick father’s, doctors appointments, financial woes, divorces, ass loads of laundry, etc., etc., etc….

I think I might start going back to yoga class.

Hell hath no fury like an Aza scorned!

2008-10-20T12:24:00.004-05:00

Who needs Karma when you’ve got Aza on your side?

The last few weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. As some of you may know Kojak, my bestest friend in the whole wide world is going through one hell of a vicious divorce. His former bitch is trying to take him for everything he’s worth. She apparently thinks a 7 year marriage with no children and no property constitutes 3K a month for the rest of her life. Think again, bitch! Aza’s on the case!

So long story short she’s been playing the “I’ve got mysterious illnesses and can’t work” role. Every time she’s showed up to court she’s not worn a bit of make-up and looks like soft serve shit. Yet behind the scenes she has been working and playing. The playing part is where I come in. She’s been bar hopping, shopping and vacationing all over the place for the last year now. All this time she’s been claiming she’s at deaths door and cashing a 3 thousand dollar alimony/temporary needs check, slowly dragging out this divorce killing Kojak financially each month. Heh, her friends and family have been taking pictures of these little outings. Lots of pictures. Pictures of her at parties, on vacations, at theme parks, during the holidays and all the while drinking like a fish in a good number of the photographs. These pictures were put on their myspace pages. Her myspace page as well as those of her friends and family are all set to private however the online slide show websites hosting the pictures posted to myspace are open for general viewing.

Sooooo, should you decide to get into a vicious nasty divorce with your spouse, lie your ass off about your health and screw them financially/emotionally for over a year- ya better make sure your retarded friends and family don’t post pictures proving you’re just fine. Ya also better be sure your spouse doesn’t have a friend with a computer that wants to see you crash and burn in hell.

To my dearest friend’s ex-wife- I hope you shit yourself on the stand when Kojak’s attorney brought out 60+ pictures of you acting like the completely healthy, white trash, gold digging whore you are. I also hope you shit yourself when your married lover (that recently dumped your stupid ass) was brought up on the stand and confirmed in testimony that you were just fine when the two of you went to New York and on that cruise.

So lots of other stuff going down but that's what I was most consumed with last week.

And you thought you had it rough!

2008-09-29T23:56:00.004-05:00

This little animal is called the Naked Mole-Rat, and is from North Africa.

So if you are having a bad day and feeling sorry for yourself, remember:

You could look like a dick with buck teeth.

(Thanks Kojak, I needed a good laugh)

Who turned on the cool?

2008-09-23T12:43:00.005-05:00

So on a Monday you’ve got 98 degrees worth of swimming in ass crack sweat soup heat, add a dash of humidity to that and you’ve got 105 degrees worth of sweltering hell heat. Then the very next day the high is 85, it’s breezy and the temp is dropping down into the high 60’s low 70’s at night. Usually ‘round these parts fall slips in quietly, as the cooling process is so subtle it’s hardly noticed- Welcome to Florida. Not this year, this year it’s like someone flipped a switch and turned on the cool overnight. I’m not complaining mind you, quite the contrary, I think the weather is fabulous! I’m at my best come pumpkin season. Now golfing, riding the motorcycle, fishing, outdoor festivals and shooting at the range don’t end with your skin melting off along with the SPF 800 you applied beforehand. Cooking and trying new recipes is fun because you can open the kitchen windows and tempt the entire neighborhood. Speaking of new recipes, I tried making orange cream parfaits last night to follow up the fried bream that Kojak and I caught, they were wonderful! Think I’ll try chocolate or sweet cream stuffed strawberries tonight or tomorrow.

Fay and Hannah, the baby squirrels that another police officer gave to Kojak after the winds of Fay knocked them out of a tree are growing fast and eating like little pigs. Their eyes are open and they’re all over the place now. I don’t normally post a whole lot about my rescue but since a few people have inquired as to how they’re doing I figured I’d post a few pics.

Here they are when they first came in....

Trying pecans...

But still insisting on the bottle...

So there’s a bit of the latest, lots more going on but that's all I've got time for now. Note to self: Remember to post about Pogo, Pagan Pride day festival, drive by's and Jessie.

Thanks for nothing Fay! And an open letter to a scumbag.

2008-08-26T14:03:00.002-05:00

Yeah, I’m alive, incredibly busy but alive. So I figured “Geez, it’s been over a month since I’ve bitched about anything on my blog!” So I pulled out my incredibly long list of things to bitch about and guess what was on top? Let’s look at the “Top 5 Reasons I Fucking Hate Fay” (and all tropical storms/hurricanes in general)…

5. After dumping two feet (seriously, two feet) of rain over three days, my backyard and garage are now under a foot of water and mud. Special thanks to the city for not keeping the ditches cleared on the street behind us…because you fine folks won’t do your damn jobs my shit floods every time we get a serious storm!

4. Since the ground is so saturated one of my favorite trees in the backyard pulled itself out of the ground, realized the ground a few feet away was no more dry than what it just pulled itself out of, said “screw it!” and fell over.

3. No power = no T.V., no computer, no A/C and basically nothing to do but sit in the dark watching tree tops nearly touch the ground illuminated by blue bursts of light on the horizon from transformers exploding all over the city as trees fall on power lines because of violent winds.

2. Our fabulous two new skylights because of Fay. Thanks an extra flipping bunch on this one, I love going to pee and getting rained on at the same time. Roof repairs are going to be not only extensive but expensive as well.

And the number 1 reason I fucking hate Fay…

The two teeny tiny baby squirrels I’m now raising I’m sure would much rather be raised by their actual mother.

The positive side? These storms tend to bring folks a little closer to each other. People that would never normally talk to each other open the flood gates of emotion. While store hopping for supplies you can hear nervous chatter in lines. Folks talking about and confiding their own personal fears, losses from storm seasons past, the latest news on storm severity/location and plans to hunker down or evacuate. They lean on each other for support. After it’s over, neighbors pull together in even the worst neighborhoods to survey damage, remove trees from yards and roofs sharing chainsaws, supplies and man power. It always amazes me at how folks come together when there’s a common threat. Finally, I think these storms pull us a little closer to our own personal paths of faith too. All you can do when it starts getting really ugly and evacuation is no longer an option is sit and pray that everything and everyone you love will be okay.

So aside from the inconvenience that my Top 5 list has brought forth, all things considered, it could have been much worse. Stay tuned for my “Top 5 Reasons I Fucking Hate Gustav” list. Hopefully that post won’t come because Gustav won’t be an issue.

Now I’m off to feed baby squirrels and vote…

An open letter to our current State Attorney:

You sir, are one of the biggest scumbags to come down the pipe. I hope when you die your higher power shows you more mercy than you’ve shown all of the victims of violent crime in our city, you piece of shit! You’ve favored the criminal element for far too long and as this election will show, the people have had enough! You are the rapists, murderers, child molesters, puppy kickers best friend and the law abiding citizens worst enemy because you refuse to prosecute. I’ve been awaiting this day for a long time. The day your low life ass gets tossed out of office and my vote helped make it happen! A storms coming asshole and it ain’t brewing in the tropics, it‘s in your own backyard. You won’t need to watch the weather channel for this one, just keep your eye on the polls cause that retarded douche you‘re endorsing doesn‘t have a snow flakes chance in hell of being elected. The storm that’s coming is a flood of police officers that had open and closed cases tossed because of you. It’s a tsunami of victims who’s pleas for justice fell on deaf ears as they watched their assailants strut out of court with a big fat smile spread from ear to ear thanks to you. Sit back and watch as our city pulls together once again and deals with a common threat, you! Reap the whirlwind you son of a bitch!

Sincerely,
Glad our city is waking up to who and what you really are!

A sad day for comedy indeed

2008-06-23T01:25:00.002-05:00

Comedian George Carlin dies in Los Angeles at 71

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080623/us_nm/carlin_dc

Another post about ta-ta's

2008-06-17T21:55:00.000-05:00

Holy crap, I’m so sick of reading/hearing about politics I can’t see straight! That being said…

I think I’d like to talk about breasts for a moment. I, like every other woman on the planet am hyper critical of myself. I’m 5’5” and weigh a buck thirty, I’d really like to weigh a buck twenty. My nails are flimsy, I’d like them to be hard as, uh…, nails. My ass is dangerously close to being “smushy“, I’d like to bounce a quarter off of it. I’m a solid B cup, I’d like to have boobs that have their own zip code. But here’s the thing, I’m lazy. I could go to the gym that I’m currently paying a monthly membership to and drop the 10 pounds, take vitamins to make my nails stronger, do leg lifts to make my ass less borderline smushy and/or have surgery to make my boobs the size of New Jersey. But that would take effort on my part. More effort than I’m willing to dedicate. Although I see Quasimodo staring back at me if I peer into the mirror for too long; all in all, at first glance and a distance I’m not a bad looking chick. Not to mention, what I lack in looks I certainly make up for in personality. In person I’m funny. Really funny.

But anyway, back to boobies. As mentioned and on a few occasions pictured here on Surreptitious Psychosis, I’m a B cup. There’s nothing spectacular about them, they‘re not “ubber fabulous”. It’s just your everyday average, run of the mill, B cup rack. So about a month ago I’m listening to the radio and I hear a commercial for a “breast enhancing” OTC (that’s “over the counter”) that “increases your bust size by at least two cups sizes!” Something that takes virtually no effort on my part? Now that’s for me! Where do I sign up!? So of course I called and said “Yes, I heard your commercial and I’d like to super size my rack please!” A month has passed and I honestly can’t say the enhancer didn’t work. D seems to think they appear “fuller”. But lets face it, he’s a guy so all he’s really thinking is “Boobage!” I can’t really tell. Women naturally fluctuate by almost half a cup size in extreme cases during each month based on ovulation cycle, diet, water weight etc. Unlike a lot of men, we don’t whip out a measuring stick at every given chance. Also, contrary to popular male belief we don’t stand naked in front of a mirror staring at them and touching them at every given opportunity (sorry to burst the silicone filled bubble, guys). We check thoroughly once a month for lumps, bumps or changes (at least the smart among us do) and basically leave well enough alone.

Hell, I read a study that said 80% of all women in the US are wearing the wrong bra size! Just goes to show how “in touch” most of us really are. I guarantee you they’re not wearing bras that are too big. Our collective wreaked self esteem ensures that we’re wearing smaller bras because we really do believe our racks are smaller than they actually are/should be. Thanks for nothing to the ginornous boobied asswads at Cosmo! I take great comfort in knowing that when I’m 65 I’ll still have firm breasts perched upon my upper chest. When you’re 65 you’ll be sporting the “yeah, they were huge and fabulous when I was 25 but now they just look like an old nut sack” look.

So yeah, they seem a bit “enhanced” and yeah my braziers seem to be a bit more snug but that could be because I ate a piece of chocolate cake last week or I’m retaining more water than usual because of the “hotter than Hades” Florida heat or any number of other factors. I can tell you this, I sure as hell won’t be scheduling breast reduction surgery anytime soon because of this “miracle enhancer”. Then again I’m not going to say it didn’t do anything at all. The girls and I bonded during this experience. Now I can say, my breasts aren’t just guinea pigs for experimenting non FDA approved drugs on, they’re friends.

My Dad...

2008-06-15T00:00:00.003-05:00

There are no words that could possibly express how much I love my dad. How much I appreciate all he sacrificed for the family. How badly my heart hurts for his loses. How high my spirit soars for his victories. How scared I get when he’s sick. How happy I am when he’s well. How much I wish the best things in life for him. So I’ll post a picture, since they’re worth a thousand words…

My mom took this picture on Christmas day in 1978. I was 6 days old. Those are my dad's arms holding me.

Now, 29 years later, we've traded hairdo's. Somehow I'm sure I had something to do with that.

Happy Father's Day!

Be my support. Be my strength. Be my bra…

2008-06-13T13:25:00.003-05:00

Dad sent the below email to me. After checking it out on Snopes and determining it’s legit, please take a look…

From a nurse:

I'll never forget the look in my patients' eyes when I had to tell them they had to go home with the drains, new exercises and no breast. I remember begging the Doctors to keep these women in the hospital longer, only to hear that they would, but their hands were tied by the insurance companies. So there I sat with my patients, giving them the instructions they needed to take care of themselves, knowing full well they didn't grasp half of what I was saying, because the glazed, hopeless, frightened look spoke louder than the quiet 'Thank You' they muttered. A mastectomy is when a woman's breast is removed in order to remove cancerous breast cells/tissue. If you know anyone who has had a Mastectomy, you may know that there is a lot of discomfort and pain afterwards. Insurance companies are trying to make mastectomies an outpatient procedure. Let's give women the chance to recover properly in the hospital for 2 days after surgery.

It takes 2 seconds to do this and is very important.

Please take the time and do it! Please send this to everyone in your address book. If there was ever a time when our voices and choices should be heard, this is one of those times.

If you're receiving this, it's because I think you will take the 30 seconds to vote on this issue and send it on to others you know who will do the same..

There's a bill called the Breast Cancer Patient Protection Act which will require insurance companies to cover a minimum 48-hour hospital stay for patients undergoing a mastectomy. It's about eliminating the 'drive-through' Mastectomy where women are forced to go home just a few hours after surgery, against the wishes of their doctor, still groggy from anesthesia and sometimes with drainage tubes still attached.

Lifetime Television has put this bill on their Web page with a petition drive to show support. Last year over half the House signed on. PLEASE!! Sign the petition by clicking on the web site below. You need not give more than your name, state, and zip code.

(http://www.lifetimetv.com/breastcancer/petition/signpetition.php)

This takes about 2 seconds. PLEASE PASS THIS ON to your friends and family, and on behalf of all women, THANKS!

It’s official

2008-05-30T14:18:00.005-05:00

By purchasing my first set of golf clubs I’ve single handedly saved the game of golf. Because we all know how much it sucked before I came along. As your new golf leader I intend on enacting and personally enforcing the following rules…

1. Knickers and ugly pants were worn in the game over a hundred years ago. Unless you are one hundred years or older (cause then it’s just cute), take them off, they look ridiculous!

2. When you see me coming, get the fuck out of my way. Being 3 days older than Christ does not give you the right to play in less than slow motion.

3. Making fun of me or my kick ass girl golf clubs is a capitol offense. The sentence is, death by Aza’s 9 iron.

These new policies are effective immediately! How on earth can I justify rocking the very foundation on which golf was laid? What qualifies me as your new gold leader? It’s simple really, I am to golf what Dale Earnhardt Jr. is to basketball.

Seriously though, D plays, Kojak plays, everyone plays. I’m surrounded by golfers so while kicking and screaming in protest I finally cried “Uncle” and I got a set of chick clubs. I’m happy to announce that even though I gave in, I have no intention whatsoever of succumbing to the craptastic thrift store fashion made infamous by the game.

Kojak is quite the golfer so I’ve drafted him as my personal coach. Bless his heart, knowing that I have the temper of a Tasmanian devil in heat after being poked in the eye with a stick, he’s still willing to teach. Pray for him.

So in summary, when you see me on the LPGA tour or The Big Break launching all of my golf shit into the pond, getting into fist fights with my caddy Happy Gilmore style, knocking people out with my 450 yard putts, just sit back and enjoy the show.

It’s not a tumor and

2008-05-18T01:30:00.002-05:00

No, I’m not a leper, it’s a zit. Thanks for asking, asshat!

UHG!!! I have a zit. Satan apparently impregnated my right cheek with an unholy spawn from hell the size of a 6 month old baby when I wasn‘t looking. It’s driving me absolutely freaking bonkers! I’ve tried ichthomol ointment, warm compresses and squeezing the ever loving Christ out of it. My efforts have only pissed it off and made it take up a stronger hold on my red, puffy and inflamed face. I’ve entertained the idea that maybe it’s not a zit. Remember the ol’ spider eggs story? It‘s been told a hundred different ways but they all have the same ending- they hatch. Here’s the way I heard it.

The short, short version in comma form…Girl wakes up with a small “zit” on her cheek, she is told to leave it alone as picking at it will only make it worse, “zit” grows itchy and somewhat painful, a few days pass, the “zit” is now huge and terribly uncomfortable (much like my current situation), mother suggests daughter take a hot bath and apply a compress, upon submerging in bath and within moments of applying compress her cheek erupts disgorging (I so dig that word!) thousands of tiny spiders. Hence, it was never a “zit”, a spider had laid eggs in her face.

So now I’m sure you understand why I want to take a scalpel and a dash of C4 to my face right now.

Have you seen these?

2008-05-08T01:30:00.004-05:00

Only something this stupid could be so popular. What’s next, fake vaginas glued to the back of station wagons?

Let me start this by saying, if you have these on your vehicle- please stop reading now. You are an idiot and my blog is anti-you.

That being said, you may be asking yourself, "Wouldn’t someone be ashamed of themselves driving around town sporting a set of tea bags swinging from their bumper?" The answer is a resounding NO. People with these on their vehicles are too stupid to be ashamed of themselves. Your initial reaction may be to try to reason with these inept individuals. Don’t waste your time, you might as well forego even attempting to explain to them why putting fake testicles on their truck is so incredibly mentally defunct. People with truck nuts are just begging for an intervention. It is up to you, good citizen, to intervene in the form of a flip-flop bitch slap as this is the only action that these idiots will comprehend.

These retarded “accessories” just scream, “I have an incredibly small penis and am desperate to draw attention away from the fact that I was horribly picked on in my junior high gym class. It’s so small people often mistake me for a woman when I disrobed. I am uneducated and am an embarrassment to my entire family. Did I mention my penis is a terrible disappointment both in size and capability?”

A fellow blogger and one of the sweetest people around needs prayers

2008-05-01T22:28:00.001-05:00

Latté Girl is in the hospital. Please send prayers and positive energy her way for a quick recovery.

I'm Hit!

2008-04-28T03:12:00.007-05:00

I have been tagged by Will Tone over at Brother In Blue with the “weird” meme. All I can say is, Dude, if I didn’t dig your blog, I so wouldn’t do this.

The rules are as follows: Simply link to the person who tagged you (see above). SHARE SEVEN WEIRD things about yourself (see below). Tag SEVEN bloggers to do the same AND include a link to their blog. Let each person know that they have been tagged and finally post the rules on your blog (that would be this paragraph).
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1.) My best friend is a cop. I take tons of pictures of him and his coworkers. I plan on sending them to Fox with the request that they create a show called “World’s Most Shocking LEO Pictures” or “Cops Gone Wild”.

2.) I frequently make odd and strange noises randomly at home and in public.

3.) I’ve wrangled chickens. It’s a long story.

4.) I have a creepy obsession with the movie “Kung Pow!”, I chalk it up to my OCD.

5.) Kojak lives right next door to a fire station. When he first moved in I baked treats for them every weekend. After a few months he told me I wasn’t allowed to bake for them until they showed a little more appreciation for my efforts.

6.) I watch the NFL channel more than most men.

7.) I get incredibly car sick if I ride in the back seat, even for short distances.

If those aren’t enough, there’s always my first meme and if you are hankerin’ to know a butt load of weird things about me there’s my 100+ list.

So I’m tagging the following amazingly awesome super rockin’ bloggers…

Latté Girl @ Inner Dialogues
Eric @ The Noisy Cakehole
Tuna Girl @ Tuna Girl
Lushy @ Such A Pretty Face
Kilroy_60 @ Fear And Loathing- The Gonzo Papers

If ya don’t want to do it I’ll be super disappointed but I’ll totally understand. No pressure, right? If you’ve already done it, do it again with 7 new weird things. There are a few others I’d tag but they are ~~lazy slackers,~~ less likely to update their blogs than me (you know who you are).

Looks like the only time I post is when I’m sick

2008-04-20T14:25:00.001-05:00

Here was how today was supposed to go….

5:00am- Get D off to work and go to sleep
10:00am- Get up
10:15am- Get dad up
10:30am- Get a shower
11:00am- Grab a snack
11:15am- Get ready for Kojak’s award ceremony
12:00pm- Boondoggle around
12:30pm- Start bitching at dad to get in the car
1:00pm- Leave for the award ceremony
1:20pm- Arrive at award ceremony
1:30pm- Watch Kojak get award
2:00pm- Get some lunch with dad and Kojak before his shift starts
3:00pm- Drop dad off
3:30pm- Head to Kojak’s house to straighten up and get some laundry done (while harassing his cats) before his tattoo guy comes over Tuesday
6:00pm- Come home
6:30pm- Decide what everyone wants for dinner
7:30pm- Get started on dinner
9:00pm- Feed everyone
10:00pm- Get started on chores around the house
1:30am- Check email and watch a movie
4:30am- Get ready for bed
5:00am- Sleep

Here’s how it has gone thus far…

4:10am- Post on my blog while listening my tummy serenade “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”
4:45am- Doze off feeling rather queasy
5:00am- D wakes me up as he’s getting ready for work. Feeling really queasy
6:00am- Sit bolt upright in bed. Bathroom, NOW!
6:15am- Lay back down, thank God it’s over
7:00am- Fall out of bed running for bathroom
7:15am- Lay back down, thank God it’s over
9:00am- Jump up and trip over cat running for bathroom
9:15am- Lay back down and pray to God that it’s over
10:00am- Tummy wakes me with odd noises
10:05am- More praying
10:10am- More praying
10:15am- Cat scratches the hell out of me when I jump up and run for the bathroom
10:30am- The cursing of the small bowel begins as prayers for it aren’t working
11:00am- Small bowel responds to said curses with a little curse of it’s own “Get to the bathroom, NOW!!!”
11:30am- Call Kojak
11:45am- Slam foot in cabinet while running to the bathroom
11:50am- Reset toe that is jammed up into my ankle
12:00pm- Kojak calls
12:15pm- It is decided that I will not be attending his award ceremony
12:30pm- Dad leaves alone for ceremony
12:45pm- Run from the living room to the bathroom destroying all in my way
12:50pm- Call D asking if he’s experiencing anything similar. Have to leave a voicemail
1:00pm- Kojak calls and I apologize for not attending. He says he’s had a similar tummy upset. I take comfort in knowing I’m not alone
1:30pm- Gingerly sip Boost
1:45pm- Decide to move into the bathroom as I’m sick of injuring myself running to it
2:00pm- Curse. A lot
2:20pm- Posting from my bathroom...

Random thoughts at 4:10 in the am

2008-04-20T04:10:00.004-05:00

4:10 to Yuma totally pissed me off. Why couldn’t it have been "Quarter after Yuma"? That's a way more interesting title because it makes even less sense than the movie. Oh wait, it was "No Country For Old Men" that pissed me off. Nevermind.

How come more black people don’t play professional golf?

My tummy hurts. Bad. It must have been the butter, dill doesn't disagree with me like this.

I would buy a cheap set of clubs and learn to play golf if I weren’t so damned aggressive.

What in the hell am I going to wear to Kojak’s award ceremony today? This guy needs to give the whole “nominated for everything under the sun” thing a rest. They should just give him the most awesome cop ever award and be done with it because I’m running out of suitable award ceremony attire ideas here. Why can’t I just go in my standard garb- jeans and a tee or sweats and a tank?

The new wild cherry and mint crunch M&Ms just plain rock!

Geez, pizza sure would be good right about now.

If I had dentures I would totally intentionally gross people out with them. I’d think up new and creative ways to make people inadvertently touch them.

I have got to finish 1 or 2 of the 800 half written posts I have collecting dust in my documents file.

A little message I'd like to pass on to the IRS with my check...

2008-04-15T01:05:00.000-05:00

In honor of today’s scheduled events...

2008-04-11T13:40:00.001-05:00

I give you this.

Let the ~~torture~~ probing (and TMI) begin!

I felt like you should probably know this…

2008-04-09T00:29:00.005-05:00

I’ve been busy. VERY busy. Kojak posts more about what’s going on in my world than I do- so if you want an update, go check out his blog. I’m still here, among the living ~~dead~~, just busy. VERY busy.

So when I stumbled across the below I felt that I should share this information immediately. This crap is vital!

Top 10 Useless Body Parts
By The Science Channel

When you're sick you may feel that certain body parts are more trouble than they're worth. And in some cases, you'd be right. While the human body has evolved and adapted significantly since the caveman days, a few biological traces of our prehistoric ancestors still remain with us in the form of freeloading body parts we lug around with us, but have no use for. Take a gander at the top offenders!

10. Plica semilunaris
You may not know it, but you have a third eyelid. Pull open the two more noticeable eyelids and take a look -- it's located right in the corner by the tear duct. This small third eyelid is left over from what's known as a "nictitating membrane," which is still present in full form in some animals including chickens, lizards and sharks.

9. Body hair
No doubt we were once hairier. Up until about 3 million years ago, we were covered with body hair. But by the time Homo erectus arrived, the ability to sweat meant we could shed our woolly ways.

8. Sinuses
Doctors don't really know much about sinuses -- only that we have a lot of them. Possibilities for their function range from insulating our eyes to changing the pitch and tone of our voice.

7. Adenoids
Adenoids trap bacteria, but they're also prone to swelling and infection. Just ask any 7-year-old. Luckily, our adenoids shrink with age and are often removed, along with ...

6. Tonsils
Also prone to swelling and infection. If you still have them when you reach your 30's, it's almost an accomplishment.

5. Coccyx
More useful as a game-winning Scrabble word than as part of the anatomy, the coccyx or tailbone, is made up of several fused vertebrae left over from the olden days when we had tails.

4. Arrector pili
When we were hairier (see No. 9), the arrector pili made the hairs stand on end when we needed to appear bigger and scarier. Now, it just gives us goose bumps.

3. Wisdom teeth
Back in the day, when we ate mammoth meat off the bone and didn't floss afterward, our teeth tended to fall out. Therefore, when those reserve molars, aka "wisdom teeth," came in, they were welcomed. Nowadays, fluoride and dental plans have made them just a huge pain.

2. Appendix
Darwin claimed the appendix was useful for digestion during our early plant-eating years; it's dwindled down to little since we started eating more digestible foods.

1. Male nipples
Because, why?

What is "In three pieces", Alex?

2008-03-12T22:41:00.003-05:00

Catagory: The current state of my laptop and mood

Needless to say I won't be posting until I resolve this situation. As of now I'm working off of Kojak's laptop.

More later...

I didn’t catch a cold, a cold caught me!

2008-03-04T15:30:00.005-05:00

For me to catch a cold would nearly insinuate that I was actively hunting for one. Not the case. As much as I love feeling like crap: dry eyes, dizzy spells, horking up UFO‘s, shortness of breath, fever, bitchy attitude, chills, total body aches and wanting to cram an M-80 down my throat to break up the congestion- I was going to pass on this year’s cold and flu season. Apparently some jackass informed the pestilence that I’d be skipping the festivities and it came looking for me instead.

Surprisingly enough this doesn’t seem to be hitting me too bad (knock on wood...DO IT!!!!) as I don’t feel like something that crawled out of a construction site Port-A-Potty, ~~yet~~. It got nasty for a few days but my preemptive strike in the form of vitamins, 200 hot showers a day, tons of fluids and being jacked up on Pseudoephedrine have kept my involvement with the plague minimal.

Now if you’ll all bow your heads in prayer:

Dear God,

You’ll be shocked to learn that I’m not begging to win the lottery, promising that I’ll never drink again if you’ll just help me make it through the morning or talking to you via the toilet as a conduit/medium. Nope, this time it’s important. I ask you Holy Father to spare me and my family from the misery and despair that is “Walking Pneumonia”. And should walking pneumonia come knocking at my door, I ask that you cast his uninvited, unwelcome, unwanted, unwarranted, unwholesome batootie back into the fiery depths of Hades in which he arose.

Amen.

And for my atheist friends in the audience (we don‘t discriminate ‘round these parts) or those of you that are looking to go preemptive too- below is the recipe and instructions for Vitamin C Tea. It’s not as good as praying to God (it is good in conjunction with, though) but as earthly remedies goes, it’s damn near divine. It works wonderfully as a preventative but will also shorten the duration of a cold if already infected. Rose gave it to me an age ago and I’ve sworn by it ever since! It is loaded with Vitamin C (as the name suggests) and tastes amazing. Most cold and flu seasons I enclose the following in “Get Well” baskets; I put together a ton of the dry ingredients, jar them up, add honey sticks, a huge mug, a tea infuser and instructions. Viola! It’s “feel better” in a cup!

Vitamin C Tea

2 parts Rose Hips

1 part each of:
Peppermint
Spearmint
Lemon Grass
Chamomile

Boil water, turn off the boil. Steep for a minimum of 5 minutes. Tea should have a pinkish-amber hue and smell like flowers. Honey is preferred to sugar for sweetening. Drink as often as needed.

Into the abyss

2008-02-25T05:20:00.003-05:00

18 years ago today my mom was killed in a car accident somewhere around 9pm. She was 44 years old. She left behind two daughters, a son, a husband that loved her more than life, a mother and numerous friends. I was 11, my sister was 14 and my brother was 18.

I was going to write a lengthy post about how her death ~~ruined~~ impacted the family. How a disabled man was left to raise two young daughters on his own. The absolute disbelief and horror that washed across his face when the police officers came to our front door to deliver the news. What it’s like as a little girl to see your mother laying in a open but veil covered casket because of the severity of her injuries. How odd and cold her fingers felt when I slipped my hand beneath the veil to touch her one last time. To hear your father weep and cry out your mothers name in his sleep. The psychiatric problems associated with losing a parent violently and suddenly at such a formidable age. The regret you carry when the last words you speak to a mother that is minutes away from being killed are hateful and nasty. How it feels to never be able to look her in the eyes and say “I’m so sorry”. To dream about her crying. What it’s like to have to discuss as a young girl your first period, the difference between tampons and pads, and every other “mommy - daughter” conversation you can imagine, with your dad. How it feels to watch a sister spiral down into an abyss of alcoholism from childhood to adulthood- the same abyss that swallowed your mother.

I was going to explain in depth and detail all of the above and so much more. Most importantly, I was going to explain how it all could have been avoided had she just not gotten behind the wheel drunk.

But here’s the thing, I’m not going to go into the depth and detail of any of it any more than I already have (please hold your applause). I’d rather go back to bed.

HSN, you get an “A”- for asinine!

2008-02-23T21:02:00.016-05:00

Have you ever watched the Home Shopping Network or the QVC channel? You know, they’re those channels where they peddle carnie crap. I watched it the other night and sat there utterly astonished, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the tv. Not because I was enthused by or excited to know more about the products I saw, but because it’s the butt ugliest, tackiest crap I have ever seen in my life! I’ve wracked my brain for days yet still have no idea where they find these clothes or the jewelry. Carnival dumpster was the only location that made any real sense.

I was completely floored when I heard the host describing these items. They used words like "awe struck", "awe inspiring", "amazing" and "vibrant" I almost fell out of my chair when they described these carnival prize throwbacks as "beautiful" and "stunning"! Who writes this lie laden shit!? If you haven’t witnessed the atrocity to fashion that is HSN or QVC, trust me when I tell you folks, nothing that I saw on those channels would come close to any of those descriptions. Well, I take that back. I was “awe struck”. Awe struck that my IQ dropped 50 points when watching that crap!

I found myself wondering (out loud), where in the hell do they find the asshats who host these shows? They have to be the pathetic background extras that make up every film currently coming out of Hollywood and Bollywood. Speaking of extras! There was a guy on the other night that had a 900 year old live (I use that term loosely of course) caller on the air gushing all over him. He was so excited because the caller had seen him in a movie. I thought “Wow! Maybe this guy really IS somebody! He must have a pretty extensive background you know, a broad portfolio in the world of acting” Ummmm, yeah, not so much. He couldn’t even remember the movie he was in! He stood there with a stupid look on his face mumbling and fumbling for words. It’s great television when these call ins make the hosts deviate from the script and they actually have to think. You begin to see their real personality (or lack of) slip through. All of a sudden he exclaims the name of the movie, but here’s the funny and oh so predictable part- he WAS an extra, perched on a street corner looking idiotic! Point made.

So they stand there, describing in detail each piece of hideous crap, making you think that this intestinal bile is not only the latest and greatest that you simply can not live without but also what all of the top models and stars are wearing- insinuating that you will be shunned by high society if you don’t immediately add it to your growing collection of HSN/QVC crap. Seriously, polls indicate that homeless people wouldn’t even consider wearing this trash. In January. In the artic circle.

A few sleepless nights ago they were selling sheets thrown on a bed that looked like a 5 year old made it. These were some of the most visually repugnant sheets and pillow cases that I have ever had my eyes assaulted by. They spent 20 minutes telling the viewing audience how gorgeous they were. You know what? They were selling them by the dozens! Who buys this stuff you ask? I found the answer to that burning question when I heard each of the callers. My extensive research watching these two channels for hours on end, mutilating my brain to bring you this review reaped the answer; everybody in the demographic of oh, I don’t know, 2 days older than Christ.

Each evening I found myself wandering back to these channels. I watched as one would if they’d stumbled upon a train wreak or multi car pile up. They had on what they called "panties". That word- "panties", it evokes images of "cute", "sexy", "pretty". The word "panties" is in no shape, way, or form synonymous with the words "size 300X". These weren’t panties, they were parachutes with leg holes cut in them! Oh, and to the host presenting the gargantuan “panties”, thanks for turning them inside out and rubbing your hand all over the 2 foot long crotch to emphasize the "breathable cotton"- that was an image stained so deep into my retinas bleach won‘t take it out. Honey, whatever ass you shove into those isn’t going to be breathing. In fact I wouldn’t hesitate to say, the crotch that will be buying those ain’t seen fresh air in a looooong time!

How can I sum this tragedy up? Ah yes! Now, on to the models. These poor women can only be described as rejects from the “Special” Miss America Padgett (minus the helmets). They have the creepiest, “I kick puppies for fun” smiles plastered across their wax like faces, all the while modeling clothing and jewelry that they wouldn’t be caught dead behind a dumpster wearing. They blink their mascara encrusted eyes in slow motion, move in slow motion, and turn in slow motion. Based on their movement, I can only assume that they have to heavily drug these pitiable women to actually get them in the clothes. I found myself wanting to yell at the television “Hey! Move your ass so we can get this crap over!” The sad thing about is, when it was finally over, I just couldn’t wait to watch the horror unfold the next night!

I’m thinking about filing a lawsuit against HSN. I want my 6 hours back!

2 Freakin' Years!?

2008-02-12T23:55:00.001-05:00

I started my blog 2 years ago today and all I can say is "Wow, what a waste of your time!"

Being an asshole can be expensive

2008-02-08T22:25:00.000-05:00

Just ask the asshole that owns the car in the below picture. That’s not a “Congratulations! You’ve won the sweepstakes!” notice placed beneath his windshield wiper.

It’s a ticket, for $250.00.

Why did he get a ticket for $250.00 and what qualifies him as an asshole you ask? Because he’s parked in a handicap parking space but doesn’t have a permit. How many disabled people go to Wal-Mart at 3am (the time he was ticketed)? Well, one that I know of, my dad. My father is disabled and 9 times out of 10 he goes to stores late at night so he doesn’t have to wait in long lines or fight for parking. So some asshole like the above mentioned comes along, figures it’s 3am, who’s gonna care? I do and apparently so does the cop that wrote him the ticket. Had my dad gone to the store that idiot would have made him walk an additional 15 feet. Now that might not mean much to you or me- being able bodied, but it means a hell of a lot to someone who walks with two canes, has braces on both legs and fights (all the while, being grateful!) for every step he takes.

So in short he got a ticket for being a lazy, inconsiderate, dickhole. Ya know what? That sorry sack of crap is lucky, that parking space cost him $250.00, it cost my father a broken spine.

An open letter to the Potential Deadbeat eBay Seller

2008-02-05T15:12:00.000-05:00

Remember the “Strike and Awe Until I Get my Shit” (aka: "Holy Shit, This Bitch Is Crazy!") campaign? Remember how it had a happy ending?

I guess I should formally announce that I may very well be on eve of yet another “operation”.

I think I may call this campaign “Rain Hell, Havoc and Misery Down Upon the Deadbeat eBay Seller Until I Get my Shit!” Yeah, I know, it’s a little “wordy” but I feel this title truly captures the essence of the impending battle.

As with every major war it starts in peace talks. The below letter (sent early this morning) is my metaphoric version of going to the U.N. and airing my grievance. Should this idiot not respond within a reasonable period of time, the next letter will be my official declaration of war.

Dear Potential Deadbeat eBay Seller,

I am writing in regard to eBay item #blah blah blah. Paypal sent me an email on January 23rd (the same day the auction ended) confirming payment had been transferred from my account to yours in the amount of $18.45. Today is February 5th, 13 days since auction end, I am wondering what the status my order is; has it been shipped? Thank you for your time in this matter I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
Preparing myself for war!

Yeah, I'm here

2008-01-26T19:58:00.001-05:00

So, Latté was all like “Hey man, you need to update your blog” and I was all like “Yeah but it’s so much more fun to hang around and harass you on yours. Plus, you have way more interesting stuff going on over here.” Then she was all like “Look, I’ve tried being polite about this but here’s the thing- It’s closing time. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

Okay, so none of that really happened. But it was an exchange I’d imagine could have happened. Plus, it helped me start a new post.

Kojak is starting a blog. Actually, I’m starting a blog for Kojak as he has no real ‘net experience. In fact the only real computer experience he has is on the laptop in his cruiser when he's running your tag deciding whether or not you‘re going to go to jail for that hooker you locked in your trunk who managed to pop out your tail light and wave for help (or does that only happen to Dyck?). So as he patrols the city hopefully he will post about some of the funny shit he runs across or at least rant about that Mr. Ed fucked Tammy Baker lookin’ reject of a soon to be ex-wife of his.

His link is over in my sidebar (Glock N’ Cuffs) but I’m not going to officially start whoring his blog out until the template/design is done and he’s ready to start posting.

So there, I posted.

Because it’s gratis and it’s poop. It’s gratis poop!

2008-01-18T14:26:00.000-05:00

Okay dear reader I’m offering you, yes you, a challenge. Because lets face it, I’m just to fucking ~~lazy~~ busy to squeeze something creative out.

I MUST have Gratis Poop!!!

But I want, nay, need your help…

So the folks over at I Love Chicken Poop.com are giving away free Poop. I love their Poop, especially because of the prospect of it being free and the reality of me being poor. They are having a contest called "Compete For Poop!!". Basically the competition consists of sending in a clever picture of yourself, friends, family, pets, etc... with a Chicken Poop product. They will in turn post the best picture (mine), pick a winner (me) and send (me) free Poop.

I only have my Chicken Poop Tee to work with as I can’t find my G’damned Chicken Poop Chapstick anywhere!

Here’s where you come in. As previously mentioned, I’ve not been feeling terribly creative lately so I’m asking all ~~two~~ of my devoted readers to help me decide what kind of ingenious (winning) picture I should submit. Please keep idiotic suggestions to yourself as they only make us both look stupid- you for coming up with it and me for actually considering it.

If I win because of your suggestion, I will send you a very nice thank you card and um….., be like appreciative and stuff?

So could you please help me out already?

Who the hell is that and do I really care!?

2008-01-16T18:48:00.000-05:00

I hate it when I go to a blog and the author says something like “So Sarah and I killed the guy, dug a deep hole in the backyard and proceeded to make sweet, sweet love a top the shallow grave!”. The first thing that comes to my mind is “Who the fuck is Sarah!? Your homicidal BFF, a coworker, some hooker you picked up last week and made a major connection with, your dog?” (the latter certainly being the most entertaining and interesting an idea). This elusive example sucks for the reader because as the reader you‘re stuck trying to figure out who the fuck Sarah is and whether or not you care.

But I also hate going to blogs and seeing the author say “So Sarah (my dog) and I killed the guy, then (my dog) Sarah and I dug a deep hole in the backyard and Sarah (Sarah’s my dog) and I proceeded to make sweet, sweet love a top the shallow grave!” This redundant example sucks for the author and the reader. The author feeling the need to annoy the shit out of their readers by constantly reiterating who Sarah is and the reader being made to feel like they ride the short bus by having constantly been reminded.

Some blog author’s wouldn’t give a shit if you knew who “Sarah” was. They’d figure “If these assholes want to know who Sarah is and how Sarah fits in my life, they’ll stick around and hope I post more information that will bring Sarah’s role in my life to light.” That strikes me as rather selfish. How do you decipher who the characters are when you’re not an “every day” reader. How does the author fill the reader in without being superfluous? Where’s the happy middle ground for authors not wanting to repeat themselves and readers not wanting to read authors repeating themselves?

I’d think the happy middle ground is in a post like this (as mentally challenged as it may seem) being permanently linked somewhere handicap accessible on the page…

Who The Hell Is She Talking About!?

The people I occasionally reference in my posts…

D- Some poor idiot I duped into marrying me 12 years ago
Dad- I won’t assume my readers are so stupid that they can’t figure this one out
Kojak (or The Cop or Officer Hottie)- My BFF
Tabby (or Ms. T)- My other BFF
George (or Whore-Hey)- My EX!!!! douchebag therapist
Krazy K- My psychotic, neurotic, alcoholic sister
Pitiful J- My lazy ass, pot head, half brother
Fat Nasty (or MIL)- Mother In Law (duh!)
The Harpy (or SIL)- Sister In Law (see above)

So the next time you find yourself asking “Who the hell is she talking about!?” There you have it.

tap, tap, tap…Is this thing on?

2008-01-09T18:59:00.000-05:00

Hmmm, 5 months.

Kinda feels more like 5 minutes.

Then again, 5 minutes can feel like an eternity when life has had a 5 month bout of emotional (or maybe karmic?) diarrhea and you happen to be the shitter it chose.

I don’t even know where to start… or if I should even bother for that matter. I don’t want to start where I left off because so much has transpired it would almost make me feel like I’m trivializing major life events, not to mention the clean up efforts.

To answer the burning question, “Did you vacation in Belleview?” The answer is, no. And to be honest, I’m pretty fucking bitter about that. It should have been me. I should have been committed, me! It wasn’t me, it was a direct relation to me. A very direct relation to me. This really should come as no shock- anyone who knows me personally for any length of time usually ends up in the nut house, prison or a convent.

I do know one thing, I’m sick of not blogging. So for not knowing where to start I guess this is it.

Now if you'll excuse me, Tapout is on and very few things bring me more joy than watching someone get their ass handed to them.

I'll update soon...

2007-08-18T02:02:00.000-05:00

Seriously.

Mental wards fucking ROCK!!!

2007-07-27T02:32:00.000-05:00

However, the staff definitely leaves something to be desired.

I’ll be sure to tell you all about it asap.

Seriously.

Insane in the membrane

2007-07-04T16:53:00.000-05:00

If you’re reading this message, the blogger you’ve reached is temporarily out to lunch, has lost her mind and is in the middle of a total fucking breakdown. Please check back shortly as she is desperately attempting to get her fucking head straight, shit together and world put back together.

Sincerely,
A Little Touch Of Crazy

Fuck Off Friday

2007-06-22T10:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the third installment of “Fuck Off Friday”! The “Fuck Off Friday” journey began with this post. With all of the people, places, and things I’d like to tell to “Fuck Off” an idea was born. Can’t say it on your own blog but feel the need to tell someone, someplace or something to fuck off? Jump in and leave your very own special fuck off dedication in the comments.

Fuck Off Methadone Addict! I put up with pieces of shit like you in the pharmacy I slave at every day. I listen to your fucked up stories and lies every time you pick up your Methadone (my tax dollars pay for). You say you’re in a “program” and you’re getting your life straight. What the fuck ever! Every month you pop up with new burn marks on your fingers and lips. Instead of following that program and shaking the crack monkey, you enjoy being anally assaulted by him and the Methadone monkey. I do not pity you. You are a sorry piece of shit that will end up taking up space in an unmarked grave in potter’s field! You know who I pity? I pity the Morphine addict that is addicted to the shit because they’ve spent years in pain fighting cancer. Unlike you, they aren’t addicted by choice and they are literally fighting- for their lives. They aren’t offered a program, they aren‘t offered free drugs. The government gives you drugs to shake your habit which you turn into another habit. Meanwhile my cancer, Hep., HIV, MS., etc. patients suffer and die miserably because they can’t afford their medication. You want some sympathy asshole? Look it up in the dictionary. Here’s a hint for you….it’s between shit and syphilis!

Fuck Off Dog! I love you but damnit, your decision to fuck with that cat has had me worried sick! You know better!

Fuck Off Fellow Commuter! I didn’t have to let you out in traffic, I could have left your ass sitting there for another hour. What? It’s too much trouble to ask the person on your cell to hold a moment so you can acknowledge that I did something nice for you with a nod or wave, you ungrateful traffic Nazi? Well to hell with you and lesson learned! If I see you again not only will I not let you out I’ll get out of my car and explain to the person behind me why they shouldn’t let you out either! As Lushy would say; "Where’s my courtesy wave motherfucker!?"

Fuck Off Krazy K and Pitiful J! How fucking hard is it to pick up your phone and call dad for father’s day!? He did the best he could raising us as a bi-lateral paraplegic, that worked his ass off every fucking day, while fighting for his and our sanity because of an abusive alcoholic wife/mother. So she kills herself in a car accident 17 years ago and you two split. That’s real fucking nice. He’s an amazing person and a great dad; he deserves better than that. Every holiday I watch you break his heart and every holiday I hate you a little more for it. Ya know what really makes me sick? If either of you sorry fuckers called today he’d pick right up where you left off and be grateful for the call. Fuck both of you! I take comfort in knowing that you’ve got a special place reserved in hell for the way you‘ve treated him. And when you get there, give mom my best!

Fuck Off Shitty Tattoo Artist! You could have fucking warned me that you were starting- then maybe I wouldn’t have jumped and you wouldn’t have “slipped”. Now I’m going to have to get it fixed you retarded douchbag! Unlike you, my body isn’t covered in 8 billion flaming fucking skulls- that tattoo is a tribute to my dad; it means a lot to me- thanks for fucking that up.

And there you have it! That concludes this weeks craptastic Fuck Off Friday! Didn’t like it? Feel free to add yourself to the list.

I’d have cried if I thought it’d do any good

2007-06-12T01:39:00.000-05:00

The other day was off to a fan-fucking-tastic start! Let me tell you all about it...

So, I get to sleep around 6am only to be ripped awake by my dog freaking the hell out at 7. I woke with such a start I scared the hell out of the cat who was sleeping peacefully on my left leg. Said fear drove said cat into attempting to not so surgically remove my leg. The dog only goes this nuts when someone is trying to come on the property without introductions. So I throw on a robe ignoring my bloody stump of a leg and stomp outside with the intention of shredding the fucker that has my dog going insane at 7am and who is now in my mind responsible for my leg getting torn to hell. What do I find? Cujo….in the driveway……attempting to kill the neighbors cat. My dog, who loves my (INDOOR ONLY) kitties and is fiercely protective over them. So naturally I yelled “WTF!!!!!!!”, he spun around with a shocked look on his fat doggie face and yelled back “OH SHIT!!!!” and then proceeded to take off running.

Now let me just say, I’ve been doing rescue and rehab for way too many years to have this kind of bullshit go down on my property. Everyone gets along or there’s hell (in Aza form) to pay. I immediately went to aid kitty who was pretty fucked up by the whole experience. The entire time all I could muster for rational thought aside from veterinary first aid was “What the fuck was that dog thinking!?!? He knows better!!!”. He had retreated to his run which I promptly locked him in (for his safety). I gave the cat some water and came back inside to tell Dad what was going on and call D for secondary advice.

What did I get from these two mental giants? Dad: “Well since the dog is locked up the cat will go home right?” Me: “Dad, it would appear from her breathing that the cat has at least two broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung and is in general pretty fucked up from what I can tell without being at the clinic”. Dad: “I’m not sure what to do, you worked at a vet so you know what to do right?” Me: “This is fucking ridiculous! That damn dog!!!”

I called D. Me: “You’re not going to believe what the fucking dog did!!! Blah, blah, blah -insert story here-. And so now I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who the cat belongs to, she is not critical so I don’t see rushing to the E.R. clinic (plus, I don’t trust the sorry sack of skin on call there this morning) but she needs a vet, D. What the fuck was he thinking!? We have baby KFC refugees* running the property that he hasn’t so much as looked at twice. He’s great with our kitties!” D: “Hon, all I can suggest is you wait for the regular vet to open and take her in.” Me: “I refuse to bring this cat inside. I don’t know her health and I’ll be damned if I risk our kitties with FeLV or FIV (two of which are FeLV positive as it is).” D: “Well, you’re going to have to figure something out, I’ve got to go back to work.” Me: “This is fucking ridiculous! That damn dog!!!”

As I’m going back outside I decided to put her in a large carrier, wait for the vet to open and take her in. When I get back around to the driveway I see her at the front of the property jumping the fence heading back in the direction that I can only guess she lives.

So then the neighbors dogs who run the streets because those white trash fuckers next door have no regard for the leash law, their animals safety, etc. etc. etc. chase the cat under my car. Well this sends me over the fucking top. I’ve not gotten any decent sleep in days, my leg is encrusted with a pint of dried blood, my dog is an idiot and my dad and D at this point aren’t far behind the dog in my opinion. So I chased the neighbors dogs off; while doing so, kitty disappeared. The whole situation had me so mad I was ready to start at the beginning of the street knocking on doors and beating the ever loving shit out of anyone who answered while lecturing them on the importance on indoor kitties, fully fenced property for roaming dogs, leash laws that apply to both dogs and cats and overall respect for the neighbors who take proper care of their pets and are in general, not white trash.

I came back inside, took half a Klonopin to avoid an impending panic attack which also pissed me off because I haven’t taken one in weeks now. I sit down, take a deep breath and try to relax. I have to go to work today. It’s over, I’m going to nurse my frayed nerves and try to get a few more hours sleep. Then I hear a boom in the distance. A boom that sounds just like a power transformer blowing up. I sat back and started to laugh- seconds later, the power goes out. Now I can’t go back to sleep even if I was calm enough and wanted to because the alarm has a dead back up battery.

The power came back on pretty quick so then I sat there wondering- What’s next?

And then a bunch of other stupid crap happened and stuff. And I'm still a week later worried sick about the kitty.

You're a bad dog!!!

* The “KFC refugees” are a flock of baby chickens that magically appeared out of nowhere. One day a few weeks back I walked out to the garden and there they were. So naturally I granted them political asylum, went to the feed and grain store and bought them food. FEMA apparently doesn’t give a shit about refugee chickens.

Well that killed 10 minutes...

2007-06-08T17:04:00.000-05:00

Scary Monster over at Me No Blog had an excellent idea…here’s what he said…

“This time Me believes that me has found a way to tie in a new concept that will allow every one to participate in the post thereby forming a web within the web.
Iffin ya don't understand what me be talkin about then yer in good company.

Below is a joke.
whether it be good or bad doesn't really matter.

What does matter is that Me will post the punch line in me comments section.

Me would be extremely grateful iffin you could post a single punchline to a joke that you like in the comments section as well and then post the body on your blog. This way folks that visit will see only the punchlines and have to visit you to get the whole gag.

This just might be a fun way to tie all our posts together for a short time.Give it a shot, It will be cool!”

Which I think actually translates into….

Post a single punch-line to a joke (good or bad) that you like in the comments section and then post the body on your blog. This way folks that visit will see only the punch-lines and have to visit you to get the whole gag.

So here goes…

What do a bungee jump and a Hooker have in common?

I’m sick

2007-06-07T13:32:00.000-05:00

“Yes Aza, that’s more than apparent”, shouts the peanut gallery!

Nooo, I’m actually physically ill. Sorta.

I haven’t felt worth a damn for three days now. Today it became impossible to ignore and or hide so I went to the doctor when I was supposed to go to work. She thinks I have a tummy virus, I think it’s just stress. After all, stress does tend to manifest in weird ways. So anyway, I’m not going to work and I feel guilty as hell. I feel guilty because I feel like I’m playing hooky. I’ve gone to work feeling so much worse than this; I have punched my 8 to 9 hours and had a smile on my face in the process when I should have been in the hospital. Not today, today I’m coddling myself when I should rock up and get my ass in gear. Doc said “You look like crap. Go home, go to bed and drink lots of fluids.” Is she basing her diagnosis on my appearance? If so, 6 days out of 7 I should be in the morgue. I always look like this. The only difference between today and any other day is a tummy ache, chills and my color is a little “off”. And this is what I will continue to do to myself all day. I’ll sit here telling myself what a huge asshole I am for “letting people down” or “pissing everyone off” until I get so discombobulated I get up, throw on some scrubs and go in- which will only make the duration of my stomach virus/stress last longer and make me hate the people I work for/with even more. I fucking hate that about myself.

Why can’t I just lay here, watch espn, sip ginger ale, relax, try to get my stomach in order and not give a shit?

Fuck Off Friday

2007-06-01T12:04:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the second installment of a series I like to call “Fuck Off Friday”. I inadvertently began “Fuck Off Friday” with this post- which began on a Tuesday but that's beside the point. So, with all of the people, places, and things I’d like to tell to “Fuck Off” an idea was born. It's a great way to end the week. Plus, I really don’t feel like I vent in the form of vulgar, nasty rants nearly enough.

Can’t say it on your own blog but have a burning need to tell someone, someplace or something to fuck off? Feel free to leave a fuck off dedication in the comments.

Where to start…

Fuck Off Bachelorette! I just dropped over $100.00 on a gift for you and I don’t even know you that well. I hate feeling cornered into doing something nice simply because I work with the asshat I’m doing it for. That hot little number I bought you from Fredrick’s of Hollywood should be mine! We both know I’d look better in it anyway.

Fuck Off Amazon Seller! You put a CD I wanted up for sale, I buy it, then you inform me via email that you’re giving me my money back and will not be sending the CD. What was your excuse? “Memo from seller: Dear Customer, Sorry for the inconvenience but the item you ordered did not meet our quality control standards. Please contact us if you have any questions.” Yeah, I’ve got a question alright; What the fuck does that mean!? Why did you list the fucking CD in the first place if it “did not meet [y]our quality control standards”? Wait, don’t answer that because I already know! You listed it with no intention of selling it just to piss me the fuck off! Mission accomplished! Thanks for wasting my time.

Fuck Off Birth Control Manufacturers! And thanks for making me feel inept! The 7 “placebo” pills you provide me at the end of each pack that do absolutely nothing were put there just to mock me weren’t they? You insert 7 useless pills into the pack because you assume I’m a moron that can’t take a useful pill everyday for 21 days then stop for 7 days and pick back up on the eighth day. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not stupid. I don’t need to take a useless pill everyday for 7 days to remember where I left off. I’ve been in ownership of my vagina for 28 years now. I think I can handle it thankyouverylittle.

Fuck Off Norton! Yeah, I know my subscription ran out last week. You don’t have to remind me with that asinine little “You’re going to get hard drive herpes if you don’t purchase a renewal RIGHT NOW!!!!” pop up. Fuck you and your hard drive herpes- I’ll renew when I feel like it.

Fuck Off Burger King Employees! Have it your way, right away? Yeah well, not so fucking much apparently! My order wasn’t that difficult, really. A grilled chicken sandwich with only mustard, mayo and cheese & a large Sprite. How can you fuck up something so incredibly simple? What did you give me? A fried piece of shit you laughingly call a chicken sandwich with a pile of mustard on it the size of New Hampshire. It’s not grilled, it doesn’t have cheese on it and not a dab of mayo in sight. Oh, I ate it, just to spite you sonsofbitches! This is my lunch break you’re fucking with here people- thanks for ruining it!

And that concludes this week's craptastic Fuck Off Friday! Thanks for playing along!

This is why my dad rocks…

2007-05-24T21:31:00.000-05:00

All I could say after seeing it was “Holy Christ, that was truly one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE!”.

This is hysterical

Thanks, dad! Listening to you giggle like a 5 year old was almost as funny as the video.

I was a meme virgin until…

2007-05-18T22:27:00.000-05:00

Lattégirl tagged me.

Seven weird things about me

1) I eat in my sleep.
2) I fantasize about being a ninja (or a Jedi).
3) I think testicles are stupid looking.
4) I sit in my back yard late at night, half naked and contemplate life.
5) I can talk people into doing really stupid shit.
6) I hate nickels!
7) My inner voice sounds like Darth Vader.

Now I tag people:

DS @ I Must Be Slipping
Rose @ Great Googly Moogly
Tuna Girl @ Tuna Blog
Kilroy_60 @ Fear And Loathing
Trinity 67 @ Thoughts…

None of you should in any shape, way or form feel obligated to do this retarded meme…I did it cause I got excited about it being my first and well, I dig Lattégirl (not like that you perv!)

Year of the infant

2007-05-15T19:22:00.000-05:00

How many people in my world would I just love to ask “Could you take a moment out of you busy schedule to grow the fuck up?” There are way too many “adults” consistently acting like selfish children. Don’t get me wrong here, I know selfish- I helped write the definition of the word. I’m no stranger to the word childish either (I think my blog exemplifies this). Judge not….yeah, yeah, yeah…I make no qualms about acting like a 5 year old. My point here is the consistent nature of if. This shit isn’t a weekend behavior for them, it’s a fucking lifestyle!

Oyez, people! This is becoming laughably stupid! You’d think the definitions of the words themselves would be easy enough for the average “adult” to understand. However, putting the definition of “Adult” to work and “Child” to bed seems a very difficult task for some. Here, let’s take a look…

“Adult”

a·dult
(plural a·dults)

n
1. fully grown life form: a fully mature person, animal, plant, or other form of life
2. somebody legally adult: somebody who has reached the age of legal majority, generally 18 years of age in the United States

adj
1. completely grown: fully developed and mature
an adult male
adult life
2. for somebody mature: involving, relating to, or meant for mature people
adult education
3. unsuitable for children: considered unsuitable for young people because of pornography, violence, or sexually explicit language

[Mid-16th century. <>

“Child”

child [chīld]
(plural chil·dren)

n
1. young human being: a young human being between birth and puberty
2. human offspring: a son or daughter of human parents
3. somebody not yet of age: somebody under a legally specified age who is considered not to be legally responsible for his or her actions
4. baby: a baby or infant
5. unborn baby: a baby that has not yet been born
6. immature adult: an adult who is regarded as behaving in a childish or inappropriately childlike way
7. product or result: somebody or something considered to be either produced or strongly influenced by a particular environment, period, or historical figure
a child of nature
a child of the 1960s
8. descendant or member of people: a descendant of somebody, or a member of a people with a common ancestor or geographic origin (often used in the plural)
children of Abraham

[ Old English cild ]
with child pregnant (archaic or literary)

That doesn’t seem so complex does it, or did I miss something? Don’t take my (or Webster's) word for it- this shit is biblical people! And you don’t have to be a Christian to see it, comprehend it and agree with it. Seriously, I shit you not! It’s in Corinthians dead smack in the middle of the biblical definition of the word “Love“ (another rant for another time)…here’s what it says…

“ ……When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things….”

"I did away with childish things"! I didn’t write that! It’s an age old concept- God says so!

So why is it so hard for friends, family and coworkers to put adulthood to practice? Because it’s easier to make the world miserable with you while you throw your stupid waste of time tantrums day in and day out. Misery truly does love company.

I can see looking to adopt childlike qualities but there’s a big damn difference between “childlike” and “childish”. I can’t be the only person in my world that owns a dictionary and has a desire wear her big girl pants occasionally….can I?

My recommendation to these people? Start a fucking blog and throw your little tantrums there- bitch till your little heart’s content! Then, (and I can't possibly stress this enough) walk away from it! You’ll be saving everyone in your world a lot of time, heartache and unnecessary drama.

Happy Mothers Day...

2007-05-13T01:17:00.000-05:00

To the worlds greatest dad!!!

I didn’t go to the gym last night but I did the next best thing…

2007-05-06T13:05:00.000-05:00

I went out with the girls- because nothing says “Fuck the past two weeks!” quite like an assload of booze. Below is proof that I will jump at the chance to show my ass in public at every given opportunity. No, I don’t party with faceless torso’s- the faces of the ~~not so~~ innocent have been removed.

Here we see how Saturday a week ago started out. Tame..

A few drinks later and we're table dancing...

It is discovered at some point during the evening that I am indeed female (and a complete idiot- as are my cohorts) despite my manishness...

A week of hell and pandemonium pass (see two posts below), bringing us to last night.... so we do it again (no table dancing this time)...

What’s on tonight’s agenda? God only knows…Tabby just came into town!

And there you have it, proof I deserve a Darwin award (or a 12 step program)!

It’s a depressing state of affairs!

2007-05-05T17:50:00.000-05:00

Well if this post over a Dyck's place doesn't make you want to just go out and shoot yourself in the face (no offense Old Yeller) I don't know what does. It's not so much the actual post as it is the situation that royally shits on your day. Well, that and I saw a dead guy laying in the middle of the road on the way home from work.

Side Note: If you’re going to ride a motorcycle- a helmet is not a bad idea, unless you don’t mind your head being squashed in the road and looking like a pumpkin thrown from a 5th story window for all (myself included) to behold.

I’m sorry Dyck is having to go through this especially because he wasn’t called to “Come on down!” on The Price Is Right. (and I thought I had a bad week!)

If it makes ya feel any better Dyck, I’ll call ya to come on down (if the price is right, that is).

Yeah, I know, Hardy-Fuckin-Har-Har!

101 reasons I am the coolest person that ever lived

2007-05-04T22:12:00.000-05:00

1/ You can call me at 11pm on a Monday night and tell me that your wife (my coworker) is in the Navy E.R. and I will haul ass to get to her and in getting to her I will inconvenience a very close friend who happens to be a member of a local police dept. to get me on base (who I still can‘t thank enough!).

2/ I will drill your wife’s doctors with my limited medical knowledge to make certain she is top priority and well taken care of.

3/ I will hold her hair out of her face while she projectile vomits.

4/ I will work her shifts as well as my own.

5/ I will buy her really expensive flowers and make everyone at work chip in.

6/ I will show you my boobies if you’re having a bad day. Okay, so I’m kidding on that one! (or am I?)

7/ You can call me from North Carolina while I’m at work after you’ve had an appendectomy freaking the fuck out and ask me to go back to the fucking navy E.R. because your husband broke his leg and has no one in the city to help take care of him until a family friend can make it up from Orlando.

8/ I will throw out my fucking back by assisting the staff at said hospital in splinting your husbands leg.

9/ I will not look at your husbands package while said procedure is taking place.

10/ I will consult with your and his surgeons to make sure they know someone who knows what the hell is going on is keeping an eye on things.

11/ I will do all of the above while incredibly ill but you won‘t know it.

12/ I will punch you in the fucking head if you say one word about me smoking again because of all the stress I‘m under. Okay, so that one doesn’t make me cool.

13/ I will fix your husbands IV lines all 800 times the fucking alarm on the machine goes off.

14/ I will make sure that you and your spouse get only the best drugs during your respective stays at the hospital.

15/ I will do all of the above and more with a smile on my face and will not tell you how stressed I am, how sick I’ve been or cry in front of you.

This is going to be longwinded and boring so you might as well just skip it. I sure as hell wish I could have.

Okay so basically the story goes like this…Monday afternoon one of my coworkers (Military Wife- some of you may recall her from prior posts) calls me and asks if I’ll cover her shift- she feels really bad and wants to go home. Sure, no problem…I‘m here to help. Monday night around 11pm her husband calls and tells me she is in the Navy E.R. with severe abdominal pain. She sent him home earlier in the afternoon but asked him to call me so I could tell everyone at work she probably wouldn’t be coming in the next day. Something in my gut twists. I have a feeling the “abdominal pain” is a much larger problem than “Oh, I’m just crampy”. The fact that she’s on a morphine drip later confirms this. I asked him if I could get on base since she was there alone and he said probably not. I convey to a friend what’s going on and that I have to get on base. Said friend calms me the hell down, meets me at the base and is able to get me to her in the E.R. I sit with her, talk to her doctors, make sure they keep her drugged because she is in intense pain and try to keep an eye on things as they perform multiple tests to diagnose what‘s going on.

By 5:30 Tuesday morning it’s official she has and appendicitis and needs to go to surgery. I went outside, called her husband, told him to get back to the hospital so she can get prepped for surgery. At 6:30am I leave assuring her I’ll get everything squared away at work. Later that evening after her surgery I get into a minor fender bender (said law enforcement friend to the rescue AGAIN!) while on my way to take her flowers and food (because the universe not only wants to fuck with me but wants to fuck with my car too).

Wednesday she is released from the hospital and leaves town to go to North Carolina with her mom (a trip they’d planned months before). At this point I am smoking again so I decided to start the Chantix again which ends up making me deathly ill (I should have started at .05mg but I started at 1mg. Yes, I am a dumbass). That day I schedule a doctors appointment for Thursday at 11am since I’m sick as hell because of the Chantix. Still I want to take it because I want to quit smoking again and it works.

Thursday, I’m due at my doctors appointment at 11am and work by 1pm. So along comes Thursday afternoon. I’d taken promethazine the night before to stop puking my guts up so naturally I missed my fucking 11am appointment. They tell me they can get me in at 3, I tell them I’ll be at work, they tell me the soonest they can see me after is sometime next week. What the fuck ever! I am NOT going to be this sick for another 4 or 5 days. I went to work at 1 and saw that we were overstaffed. So I tell my Pharmacist that I’m going to take an extended lunch, drive across the fucking city during the start of rush hour to get to my doctors appointment. I get back at 4:30 feeling like crap with a hand full of scripts from my doc and am ready to get back to work, finish my day and go home. Could it have possibly been that easy? Hell no! Of course not, this is me were talking about here!

One of the kids I’m training shouts across the pharmacy “Aza, you’ve got a call on 101 and it doesn’t sound good!” I answered the phone and it was Military Wife in hysterics. I say “MW, calm down and tell me what’s going on.” She then proceeds to tell me she’s in excruciating pain from the appendectomy, she’s in North Carolina, she’s allergic to the pain meds and I have to go back to the Naval E.R. “RIGHT NOW!!!!” All I could muster for a response at that point was “Ummm, what?” she responds hysterically with “My husband broke his fucking leg and there’s no one to help him but you until I can get my friend from Orlando to come!”.

At this point my eyes were brimming as I looked over at my Rph and shook my head. I told her I’d take care of it and hung up. Sooooo, half an hour later (around 6:30ish) I’m pulling into the E.R. parking lot. I get in, get things dealt with, update MW and wait for the friend from Orlando to come. During my wait a nurse walks in and asks him one of the most retarded questions I’ve ever heard in my life- “So, how’s your pain level between 1 and 10, 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced?” I sat there staring at her for a moment trying to digest what I’d just heard and whether or not I’d heard it correctly. Finally I said “Uh, both bones in his left leg are broken and at the break they splintered into 4 or 5 pieces. I’d have to say, and MW Husband please correct me if I’m wrong here, that his pain level is at about a ’Fuck This!‘. Does that sound about right MW Husband?” he nodded, she stomped out of the room to go get more meds.

10pm rolls around, my lower back and shoulders are killing me, I’ve assisted in splinting his leg, have dealt with his fucked up IV lines, yelled at a bunch of fucking incompetent people, am covered in plaster and am praying I can make it out of there without injuring anyone. The friend from Orlando finally walks in the room MW’s husband is set up in for the night. I explain to her everything that’s happening- what time he’s going in for surgery the next day blah, blah, blah, blah…..ad infinitum.

I come home totally emotionally exhausted and feeling completely numb. I’ve not slept more than a few hours in 4 days, I’m sick and I’ve been pulled in a thousand directions at once. So I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, play around on my cell and try to get my brain to shut down. I don’t actually get to sleep until around 10:30am this morning because as tired as I was I just couldn’t shut down- then I’m back up by noon after being jarred awake by a storm of nightmares and I’m running again. His surgery didn’t go as well as planned and he now has a shit load of new hardware in his leg but at least he made it through and is in recovery.

My plans for tomorrow? I’m going to go to work, come home, try to exist in peace and maybe, just maybe go to the gym. Or kick the ever loving shit out of the first fucking person that looks at me wrong. I’m still undecided.

Ugh

2007-05-02T12:33:00.000-05:00

I’d post something clever about friends going through appendectomies, smoking like a fiend, Navy hospitals and all of the goofy stuff going on in my world at the moment….However, I’m sick as a dog and have to go to ~~hell~~ work.

Yay! *barf*

What the fuck ever!

2007-04-25T23:55:00.000-05:00

So I got my performance review back at work. For those of you who don’t know what that is- it’s a yearly ~~assult upon your emotional anus~~ review they make you perform on yourself. Basically you have to tell them how retarded you think you are and how much you think you suck at your job. Then they come back over what you wrote and review the review. I gotta tell ya, it’s one hell of a motivation builder!

I was off work that day but I made a special trip to the pharmacy to get it. I didn’t want to get it back while I was on the clock and have a giant panic attack in front of God and everybody because my superiors agree that I suck. That pretty much sums up my review of myself “I Aza, suck at my job and am a total retard. However, if there is one redeeming quality about me that should prevent my immediate dismissal it is that I make my coworkers and patients laugh. The end.”

It wasn’t what I expected at all. I walked in totally prepared to have my ass handed to me and received quite the opposite. I was told I have excellent patient/coworker relations (LOL!!!) and make the pharmacy a fun place to work. I’m skilled well beyond my pay grade and level of experience (ie, time on the job) and I’m an excellent trainer. I was all like “Yeah man, I rock!”.

So I asked my senior Rph what improvements needed to be made- he said I need to start taking on senior tech responsibilities. My response “Look, I’m state certified isn’t that enough? I mean really! If I’m not going to be paid as a senior tech why should I have to perform the responsibilities (which I do anyway)?” He also said (and I quote) “This isn’t just for you but we need to watch the use of profanity.”

What? Excuse me? Would you care to repeat that for me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.

I NEVER curse in front of patients or my Rph’s. EVER! It’s Princess, Military Wife and The 20 Year Old Boss that sound like fucking sailors! It’s fuck this and fuck that and fuck him and fuck her and fuck the fucking fuckers. That’s all I hear all day! Me? I go out of my fucking way not to curse at work (that’s what my fucking blog is for!). I use terms like the following; “Crum” or "Crud" instead of “Crap“, “Shnike” or "Poopie" instead of “Shit”, “God Bless America” instead of “Goddamnit!”, “Rats Rectum” instead of “Rats Ass”, “Son Of A Biscuit Eater” instead of “Son Of A Bitch”, “Fudge” or “Freak” instead of “Fuck”, you get the point. I guess he saw the total look of shock and surprise that hit my face like a brick- a look that said “What the fuck did you just say to me!?” because he looked back at me as if to say “Hey I know I shouldn’t even be mentioning this to you but I don’t want those sorry fuckers to feel singled out and picked on”. I looked at him as if to say “Fuck them! They should be singled out because they are the ones that do it and no, you shouldn’t be mentioning this to me.” What’d I do? I kept my mouth shut and didn't argue. Our conversation held within looks said everything that needed to be said.

Anyway, I got an awesome review. How’d my coworkers do? Fucked if I care, I rock!

Dumb but funny observations

2007-04-21T09:36:00.000-05:00

I found this in a forwarded mail- I would give credit where credit is due but I don't remember who sent it to me. Usually I hate forwards as expressed here and I wish the sender cursed to eternal damnation... but yeah this one I kind of like...

*1.* People who point at their wrist while asking for the time.... I know where my watch is pal, where the hell is yours? Do I point at my crotch when I ask where the toilet is?

*2* People who are willing to get off their ass to search the entire room for the T.V. remote because they refuse to walk to the T.V. and change the channel manually.

*3* When people say "Oh you just want to have your cake and eat it too". Damn right! What good is cake if you can't eat it?

*4* When people say "it's always the last place you look". Of course it is. Why the hell would you keep looking after you've found it? Do people do this? Who and where are they? Gonna Kick their asses!

*5* When people say while watching a film "did you see that?". No Loser, I paid $12 to come to the cinema and stare at the damn floor.

*6* People who ask "Can I ask you a question?".... Didn't really give me a choice there, did ya sunshine?

*7.* When something is 'new and improved!' Which is it? If it's new, then there has never been anything before it. If it's an improvement, then there must have been something before it, couldn't be new.

*8* When people say "life is short". What the hell?? Life is the longest damn thing anyone ever does!! What can you do that's longer?

*9* When you are waiting for the bus and someone asks "Has the bus come yet?". If the bus came would I be standing here, dumbass?

I fell off the wagon at a party and started a bar fight all in less than a week...

2007-04-19T23:59:00.000-05:00

So I gave the Marlboro Man a lap dance. Yep I smoked a couple cigarettes at a party last weekend. They were the first cigarettes I’ve smoked since January 4th. I’ve been asked “So Aza did they taste like shit?” my response- “Actually, I think my mouth had an orgasm”. Yep, they were good, really good. I was surprised the day after when I had no desire to go out and buy a pack. Yeah, I still crave- I’ve had cravings since January 4th but the cravings were no more intense after the party than they were three months ago. Am I going to beat myself up about it…nope. Sure, I can hear it now “But Aza, you beat yourself up about everything you do- how could you not beat yourself up about it?” All I can say to that is, “Smoking a couple cigarettes is probably one of the least sinful, humiliating, bad, naughty and/or stupid things I did that night.*”

As for the bar fight….have you ever gone to a bar and seen someone who had “Please fuck with me” written all over their face? Yeah, a few nights ago while sitting at the bar with D and some friends it happened. There I am, minding my own damn business enjoying the company when "it" stumbles up to the bar and begins to annoy the holy shit out of everyone. Long story short, as soon as I laid eyes on “skanky hooker chick” who had “Please fuck with me” written on her forehead, I obliged. I mean what was I supposed to do? A drunk skank is falling all over the bar begging me to ruin her night. I was up for some fun and ready to add a little spice to the evening. Plus, nothing quite says to your friends “Hey, thanks for inviting us out!” like starting shit with a bar hoe.

So blah, blah, blah- I screwed with her sister, her sister’s boyfriend, her boyfriend and her. I got a little in fighting going between them then set in to my objective- getting that nasty bitch tossed from the bar. The conclusion consisted of me acting mad at her boyfriend for hitting on me to royally piss her off which in turn would cause her to shoot her mouth off getting her tossed. Therefore I dubbed my mission: “Skank Eject”.

I stand before you today and hereby declare my mission: Accomplished!

Here’s a tip for all you bar patrons out there…Don’t go to the bar/club, get shit faced, show your ass and NOT expect someone like me to come along and wreak your evening. I target stupid people (it’s a hobby) and dedicate as much time to screwing with them as possible.

Oh and if you’re thinking of inviting me to a party- Please don’t encourage my nasty (EX) smoking habit (regardless of how persuasive my begging is) and fully expect me to end up naked in your neighbors swimming pool. Not because I’m drunk- but because I’m not right in the head and I‘ll do damn near anything to amuse myself.

I think I’m beginning to epitomize the term “White Trash” (or "psychotic"- the jury is still out on that one).

(* or wanted (wink, wink) to do that night!!!)

An open letter to a dickhole

2007-04-13T13:40:00.000-05:00

Dear **dickhole *cop,

Do you think D is stupid? I mean, he may come off as a total ding-bat but trust me he’s way smarter than he looks. Which leads me to… he knows he didn’t get that ticket this morning because he left his keys in the car at the donut shop. He got that ticket because he got in your fucking douche bag way. Here’s how his morning routine works.

1- He gets up after I kick the shit out of him right around the 300th time the snooze alarm goes off.
2- He bathes, dresses and gets ready for work.
3- He warms up the decrepit piece of shit we lovingly call “the second car” (I usually refer to it as the “Flintstone mobile”).

~Addendum Numero Uno~
D’s car is a 1990 Ford Escort Hatchback (yes, you read that right). Its paint is peeling, it has been through a tornado- seriously, it has over a zillion miles on it, it runs on prayer and is in general every goddamn car thieves wet dream. I know those sonsofbitches take one look at this car and get a little hard with envy.

4- He drives directly to Dunkin’ Donuts to get his morning barrel of piping hot Joe infused with extra cream, 10 pounds of sugar and a near lethal dose of caffeine.
5- He proceeds to drive across the city to work.

Now, after reading the above process I’m sure you see where you fit in and fucked up D‘s morning routine. That’s right! Between steps 4 and 5. So here’s how I’m assuming YOUR morning starts off …

1- You get up, look in the mirror and see a giant douche bag staring back at you.
2- You ~~ram~~ insert a fresh corncob up your ass with vigor and pride.
3- You go to work in a very bad mood because women flee and or laugh at the sight/thought of your penis.
4- You take your bad mood out on the first person you see in the form of a ticket for the most retarded fucking thing you can think of.
5- Immediately thereafter you jack off (hard) to your ability to be the ~~biggest prick~~ best cop in town by keeping our streets safe from vicious, dangerous, predators….you know, all those sorry assholes who leave their keys in their piece of shit jalopies! After all, they are such a danger to society!

~Addendum Numero Dos~
I don’t feel addendum numero uno got this through clearly- I just really can’t stress the following points enough: A- It’s a Flintstone Mobile NOT a fucking Maserati. B- The vehicle was not left unattended running C- It was parked 10 feet away from its owner D- No children and or animals were left unattended and strapped in the backseat. E- If someone stole that sorry piece, they’d be doing us a favor. And F-The coffee shop knows what time D comes through and has the coffee ready the way he likes it. He runs in throws the money on the counter and runs out.

So lets be honest with each other- it wasn’t the keys in the car that got D that 75 dollar ticket making him late for work and putting him in a shitty mood that I‘m going to have to deal with. It wasn’t the corncob that’s shoved so far up your ass you’re constantly picking kernels out of your molars. You were pissed that D got in your way by parking at the front door, in your space and you got even more mad when he laughed at you. Plain, simple and best of all- honest. When you snarled at him “What are you laughing at?” did you bother to notice how nervous he was? Wringing his hands, shuffling his feet- he laughed because he was nervous you dumb fuck. And the sad thing is, it doesn’t take a fucking degree in body language to observe and conclude that.

Hold your head high today fucktard because when we go to court and I show the judge the car you ticketed for the keys being left in it and HE starts laughing- I guarantee, it won’t be nervous laughter. He’s going to look at you like the idiot asswipe that you are and he’s going to think the same thing we all thought- “You really are pathetic to ticket someone simply because they got in between you and your steaming hot cup of Joe and freshly baked Boston Cream.”

Sure, I’ll pay the $75 bucks because D is such a danger to society. Heh, 75 dollars, that’ll teach him!

Enclosed is a picture I took especially for you. Now I know they say a picture is worth a thousand words but I think this one pretty much sums it up in two…enjoy…

fucker.

Sincerely,
Saddened By What A Huge Douche Bag You Are.

**This dickhole is a true minority in my city. 99% of our police force consist of really great men and women (3 of which read my blog so they’re even cooler) just doing their job.**

*And to the cops who read my blog, please don’t take my rant personal. I certainly don’t mean to cast an ugly light down on everyone- just the one idiot who I’m sure even pisses his coworkers off.*

Easter- that’s a novel idea!

2007-04-08T13:37:00.000-05:00

So hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years ago today the Father of Christianity arose from the grave and ascended to the heavens alone without holding a major grudge against humanity for their insolence.

And hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years later- today I arose from bed and ascended to the laundry mat alone holding dirty drawers and a major grudge against humanity for my current circumstances.

See the similarities?

Take it easy now…I can already hear the peanut gallery shouting “Blasphemy !!!” from the very tops of their soap box pulpits. Before jumping to conclusions and resorting to name calling (or crucifixion) lets take a closer look at how the world spins shall we? My above rant, when really read says “I’m so tired of spending the holidays alone”. It’s a pity party- plain, simple. It’s about me, not the holiday.

But we can’t have the peanut gallery shouting “Blasphemy” for nothing now can we? So I’ll give you honest blasphemy.

A couple thousand years ago a man was hung from a cross to die a slow and agonizing death. And for what? An idea. A concept. A way of life that was meant to end all wars and unite all peoples. A gentle thought process that would later be so twisted by world leaders- devotion (or lack of devotion) to it would start tremendous wars. Millions upon millions would die. Which is exactly what that man on that cross was there trying to avoid. Sounds blasphemous to me.

And how is appreciation for that horror expressed? By marrying it somewhere along the line. A truly beautiful Pagan holiday known as Ostara was tossed into the mix by high officials in an attempt to force conversion. Forced conversion. Heh, sounds stupid doesn’t it? Forcing people to convert to a gentle and kind thought process and lifestyle when they’ve already found one. So now we’ve got the crucifixion/resurrection and Ostara all mixed up together. The result? A nifty little holiday called Easter! We wake to baskets filled with chocolate depictions of rabbits nested in fake grass, go to church to watch the sunrise- symbolic of Christ rising from his tomb, come home to hunt hard boiled and dyed eggs in our backyards- symbolic of fertility and spring and then finalize the celebration by sacrificing a pig errr, I mean, dining upon spiral sliced honey baked ham!- symbolic of the last supper. (isn‘t there something in the Bible about eating animals with cloven hooves?)

So now the question that begs to be asked…Are we doing proper justice to and respectfully honoring both holidays by allowing them to converge in upon one another or during that convergence have we lost the true meaning and beauty in both?

If we’re dealing in spiritual principals rather than dogmatic particulars- I’d like to think we’re getting the best of both.

So, Happy Day to you…I’ve got laundry to do.

How’s that for honesty?

2007-04-06T21:57:00.000-05:00

So as most of you know I’m in therapy and for those of you who didn’t- I’m sure it was a ginormous shock. Anyway, a snippet from this past weeks session...

Me: *sigh* I’m just so not interested, ya know? I need some serious motivation.

Whore-Hey: What are you not interested in?

Me: What AM I interested in?

Whore-Hey: Try to give me an example.

Me: well, like I should probably go back to the gym. I mean, I’m paying a monthly membership and all.

Whore-Hey: You don’t want to lose weight?

Me: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Whore-Hey: No, no, no! What I meant was is weight loss one of your goals? Because you really don’t look like you need to lose any weight.

Me: Shut up.

Whore-Hey: Really now Aza.

Me: No, not to lose weight just to tone up and do some cardio. Now that I’m a nonsmoker I think I should do some cardio. Which brings me back full circle to my original point.

Whore-Hey: Which isn’t that your not interested it’s just that you aren’t motivated, right?

Me: Yeah, I’m not motivated. I already said that.

Whore-Hey: Okay

Me: Okay, so, I’m not paying you to stare at me and repeat what I say, motivate me to get back in the gym!

Whore-Hey: Your butt is getting big.

Me: *sigh* that was $50.00 well spent. You do realize that I’ve seriously injured people for saying things way less offensive to me than that, right?

Me (as I'm getting up to walk out): Oh and BTW, I know how much you hate it when we’re in the last 3 minutes of therapy and I drop a bomb in your lap but remind me to tell you next session about- My new tattoo, the dream where I bit D’s nose off, the dream about my grandparents that ended in me waking to a massive panic attack, the fight I got into with my dad, how much I hate your freaking socks and my sleep eating….m’kay?

Whore-Hey: Jesus Aza, I hate it when you do that!

Me: *grinning* Heh, yeah, me and my big butt know. Have a nice day, asshat.

It’s hard work!

2007-03-26T04:02:00.000-05:00

As it turns out- raining hell, havoc and chaos in general down upon all those around me and working on total world domination tends to be incredibly time consuming projects. Sadly, I’ve not really accomplished as much as I‘d like given the amount of time invested. I’d love to report more but here’s all I’ve got for the moment…

~ I started a serious mutiny at work (then again, when is a work related mutiny involving me not serious?) I took a coworker in front of my boss, pointed at her and said “Unless, you promote her, I quit. I‘m sick of working under the tyranny of a 20 year old child!” The 20 year old child just happens to be on vacation right now.

~ Possibly (I say ‘possibly’ because she hasn’t returned any of my phone calls since Saturday so I’m not quite sure) really pissed off that same coworker a few days later when taking her and her husband out. Actually, taking them out didn’t piss her off- my husband pointing at her chest and shouting “Titties!” in a drunken stupor is most probably what did it.

~ Told an incredibly hot 24 year old Marine that I didn’t appreciate his physical or verbal advances and wouldn‘t tolerate them- then stormed off to retrieve my drunken husband and go home. WTF was I thinking!!!??? (Actually, in all honesty…if I were going to do something along those lines, it damn straight wouldn’t be with a 24 year old kid. I have more ‘seasoned’ tastes, if you will. Oh yeah, and I love D too- even though he is dangerously retarded.)

~ Speaking of more seasoned tastes…I’ve been wanting to post this pic forever now. It was taken last July when I‘d finalized my decision to dominate the world. I like to call it a “Marine Burrito” or “Aza’s personal Double Mint commercial”. But really it just establishes that I’ve got the Military backing me (well, all of them but a 24 year old douche bag that can‘t keep his hands to himself). My plans for world domination are coming along nicely, slowly but nicely.

300.........assholes!

2007-03-13T02:09:00.000-05:00

We went to see 300 late Sunday night.

Now I remember why I hardly ever go to the theater and NEVER go to see a film opening weekend. People at movie theaters suck. They just freaking suck. They eat like pigs at trough, won’t shut the fuck up, accept and make cell phone calls/text messages during the movie, bring their 10 year olds to rated R films, half of them wouldn’t know a bar of soap if one was shoved up their smelly ass, the other half having bathed in cologne or perfume smell worse than French whores of the late 18th century, and in general they all just beg for a massive ass kicking.

300 is a two hour and ten minute film created by the folks who made Sin City. It was great!!!- violent, bloody, sexy, full of sweaty man parts, vicious….I loved it! It was a teeny-tiny bit chickish in some areas but the gratuitous sword/spear play, the detailed slow’moed chopping/hacking of blood spurting body parts made those few areas totally forgivable. In my ever so humble opinion, it was way better than Sin City cinematography-wise and completely made up for the chickfest Gladiator turned out to be story line-wise. Do NOT wait for it to be released to DVD; it is a theater "must see"!

My only complaint- I hated every single disrespectful, popcorn sucking, rude, loud talking, candy smacking, seat kicking, smelly asshole that was in the theater with me (which was all 300 of them) and wanted them all to take a shower, then drop dead so I could enjoy the movie in fresh smelling peace and quiet.

Otherwise, it was flipping awesome!!!

Early morning conversations...

2007-03-11T12:52:00.000-05:00

After reading the supportive comments below, eating copious amounts of pills, random bawling spells, a touch of retail therapy and sleeping a lot….I’m feeling a bit better. Many thanks to the well wishers (and the manufactures of Klonopin, Zoloft and valerian). Sometimes rescue can be a real kick in the junk (especially when you work with animals that are already compromised)!

Oh, and yes, I’d be happy to adopt a little (but mighty) Dyck- assuming he‘s house trained.

And now I think I’d like to share a moment of retardation in the Aza household…

3am…

He says (while violently flipping the bathroom light switch): “Hey, I think the switch is broken!”

I say: It’s 3am leave it alone until tomorrow.

He says (while stomping into the bedroom to go to bed): “Damn switch”

9am…

I say to myself (while walking into the bathroom): *sigh* “I’m going to be so pissed if I have to replace that switch!”

I say to myself (while flipping said switch on and off once and going pee): “1- go to the hardware store and purchase a new switch. 2- cut main breaker. 3- replace switch. 4- triple check connections for safety. 5- turn main breaker back on. 6- and then there was light!"

I say to myself (while grimacing at my morning breath and walking into the kitchen): “Yeah, seems simple enough but you’ve got to account for Murphy.”

I say to myself (while searching for and finding a light bulb in the cleaning supply cabinet): *sigh* “Yep, Murphy’s law…when something goes wrong in this house it’s never a simple fix. Maybe I should buy extra stuff while I‘m at the hardware store.”

I say to myself (while changing the bathroom light bulb): “And corn for the squirrel feeders outside.”

I say to myself (while flipping the switch): “Oh! I can check the new herbs they’re getting in for my herb garden…this year that garden is gonna rock! I think I’ll start a strawberry bed too.”

I say to myself (as the light turns on): “Then again I could always go back to bed and gloat.....Heh, screw you Murphy!”

I say (now back in bed): “Hey ding-dong, there’s nothing wrong with the switch- the light bulb had blown”

He says: “*grumble*” (something unintelligible)

I say to myself (while rolling over to watch T.V.): “I sure am altruistic, considering I married a retard and all.”

Ever have one on those days where everything you eat turns to shit?

2007-03-06T13:58:00.000-05:00

I’ve had one of those months.

So as most of you know I do a little rescue/rehab on the side when I’m forced into it (see label titled “Saving Grace“ in the left sidebar). I’m one of the only people around here who works with FeLV (feline leukemia) positive cats and doesn't just put them to sleep on the spot. FeLV cats can have many healthy and happy years of life when treated early and not exposed to FeLV negative cats. Mikey was one of those kitties.

Five years ago my dad and I were driving down a rural dirt road way out in the sticks when I spotted way up ahead a little dirty white and grey fluff ball sitting in the middle on the road. He stopped the car, I got out and called “Here kitty, kitty”. The dirty white and grey fluff ball came running at top speed down the road meowing. When he got to me he was just a breath of a kitten (maybe 9 weeks old), incredibly malnourished (God only knows how long he’d been out in those woods with no food- I suspect 3 or 4 days at least) filthy, covered in thorns, swarmed with fleas and starved. I got back in the car with him and as we began to turn around I heard a tiny meow from a nearby ditch. Yep, there were more, two more. One was just a baby, she was a brown tortie and the same size as the little white and grey one, the other was much older- probably 5 to 6 months. He was white and grey as well. All three kitties had been dumped in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves. Which actually translates into "All three kitties had been dumped in the middle of nowhere to starve to death or get eaten by something." because that's exactly what would have happed if we'd not found them.

They were all in bad shape but after many vet visits, spays and neuters, some decent food and a safe, warm place to sleep they all started to come around health wise. Both of the babies- Mikey (the little dirty white and grey fluff ball) and Bonsai (the little tortie) tested FeLV positive but neither were showing symptoms. Obie (the older cat) came back negative.

Bonsai started showing symptoms after about two years and had to be put to sleep. Three weeks ago, after 5 years, Mikey started showing symptoms…

A few weeks ago he came down with a nasty head cold that despite my best efforts wasn’t getting better. We went to the vet and started a course of Baytril and an antihistamine, after a week of no improvement we started a course of Clindamyicin, Interferon and nose drops. Still, there was no improvement, in fact it started getting worse. After beginning another course of antibiotics in conjunction with Loratidine his appetite went to hell- par for the course when dealing with advance stage FeLV. Late friday/early Saturday he stopped eating all together, late Sunday night his breathing became even more labored.

Yesterday we went to the vet.

Today I am mourning the loss of my little white and grey fluff ball.

Something Evil Has A Hard On For Me

2007-02-27T21:40:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-02-25T16:33:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-02-21T02:09:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-19T23:57:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-15T23:19:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-02-12T14:45:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-10T16:02:00.000-05:00

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…

2007-02-03T04:13:00.000-05:00

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.

An open letter to the Retarded eBay Store Merchant

2007-01-25T16:32:00.000-05:00

(Wow, it's been forever since I've done an open letter)

A new and improved “open letter”, now with gratuitous use of the word “shit” because this situation is “bullshit” !

Dear Retarded eBay Store Merchant,

Here’s how it works. You set up a little store on eBay to sell your shit. I come along, see a piece of shit I can’t live without that I must add to my accumulation of shit and thoroughly read the description of the shit you‘re selling. Your shit fits the bill, I’ve gotta have it- cause’ well, it’s the shit! Menacingly written within your description is “Payment is due within 3 days of purchase!”. BUT, you’ve got a really decent feedback rating so that seems to take the edge off of your shitty insinuated/implied threat. Again, after thoroughly reading and comprehending your description and instructions, I buy your shit. The very next day I mail you money to ensure the speedy procurement of my shit. Then here’s how it’s SUPPOSED to continue.... You get my money and mail me my shit. A week or so later, I check my mail and sure as shit, there it is! We leave each other positive feedback in the process. The end. No bullshit.

Seems simple enough right, asshat? Then why do you have to screw up such a simple process. Here, let’s go through this step by numerical step.

1/ You sell shit on your eBay store.

2/ I see and purchase your shit.

3/ I mail you money for said shit.

4/ You receive the money and in turn mail me my shit.

5/ You leave me positive feedback saying “This chick is the shit! She paid within 3 days and is an asset to the eBay community”.

6/ I get my shit within a REASONABLE period of time.

7/ Happy with my shit, I reciprocate your positive feedback saying “This seller is the shit! My shit was exactly as described, was shipped warp speed fast and arrived in perfect condition. Said seller is an asset to the eBay community and I highly recommend them!”

Seven simple steps asshat. Seven simple steps that you have to come along and screw up. So here’s how it actually happened and where the shit hit the fan…

I saw your shit, bought your shit and paid for your shit. I gave you my money, for your shit. It’s now MY shit. Soooo, where’s my shit? I bought it on the 5th, mailed my payment on the 6th, emailed you on the 20th requesting the status of my order and now today, the 25th, called your stupid ass and left a message. Still nothing. So what? Am I shit out of luck? Because right about now I'm starting to feel like I'm up shits creek without a paddle.

I think you’ve forgotten a few very important key factors in this shitty business transaction: I know your name, I have your home address and I also have your phone number. Do you really think it’s a good idea to piss a complete stranger (me) off over 5 bucks? I’d have to say it’d definitely be in your best interest to mail my shit to me immediately or be subject to a snail mail, email and phone call campaign which will hence forth be known as “Strike and Awe Until I Get my Shit”. (aka: "Holy Shit, This Bitch Is Crazy!") Now you may ask yourself, "Would she really go that far over 5 bucks?" You can bet your ass I would. I shit you not.

So in summary, I want my shit. Now. See, here’s the thing- you could have totally avoided this unfortunate situation one of two ways. A/ You could have sent my shit in a reasonable period of time or B/ You could have simply stated in your item description “I expect payment within 3 days but you won’t get your shit for 30.” Then you would have been kind enough to give someone potentially interested in your shit the right to decide if they want to wait that long.

Thanks for screwing up a very simple process. I look forward to you getting your shit together!

Sincerely,
Pissed That I Still Don’t Have My Shit

My Fine Is...$555.10

2007-01-23T18:44:00.000-05:00

I jacked this from over at Tuna Girl’s place.

I had to actually go searching for a calculator to tally mine up. That’s just sad. By the way, does anyone else smell brimstone, or is it just me?

Here’s how it works: You don’t have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine. (Not per incident!) Tally up your score and post it on your blog with the title… ”My Fine Is…”

Smoked pot — $10
Did acid — $5
Ever had sex at church — $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you — $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace — $25
Had sex for money — $100
Vandalized something — $20
Had sex on your parents’ bed — $10
Beat up someone — $20
Been jumped — $10
Crossed dressed — $10
Given money to stripper — $25
Been in love with a stripper — $20
Kissed some one who’s name you didn’t know — $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work — $15
Ever drive drunk — $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk — $50
Used toys while having sex — $30
Got drunk, passed out and don’t remember the night before — $20
Went skinny dipping — $5
Had sex in a pool — $20
Kissed someone of the same sex — $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex — $20
Cheated on your significant other — $10
Masturbated — $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend — $20
Done oral — $5
Got oral — $5
Done/got oral in a car while it was moving — $25
Stole something — $10
Had sex with someone in jail — $25
Made a nasty home video — $15
Had a threesome — $50
Had sex in the wild — $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex — $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars — $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older — $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 — $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time — $50
Said you love someone but didn’t mean it — $25
Went streaking — $5
Went streaking in broad daylight — $15
Been arrested — $5
Spent time in jail — $15
Peed in the pool — $0.50
Played spin the bottle — $5
Done something you regret — $20
Had sex with your best friend — $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work — $25
Had anal sex — $80
Lied to your mate — $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good — $25

All things “girly” and "pouty"...

2007-01-16T20:48:00.000-05:00

Here’s where I get my pout on and wallow in a little self pity. Deal. It beats going out and buying a pack of cigarettes.

WARNING: This is a pity driven rant, it in no way means life has always or will always be like this, it just means at one point or another it was and or is and I want to get it out….that’s the point in ranting….that’s the point of my blog.

I miss being “girly”.

I take that back, I miss my “girlieness” being noticed and/or appreciated. Yes, I know it will shock some of you out there to know, I haven't always been the butch bitch I am today. There dwells deep within me a soft spoken, gentle, vulgarity free woman. Stop laughing, I’m serious!
The individual that sits before you comes from a home where at times the walls exude testosterone; “feelings” consist of “Pissed”, “Irritated” and “Not Interested”. Love has been expressed by exchanges like this one... Me: “I wish you’d show me you love me a little more often” Him: “I bring home a paycheck and take care of you don’t I?” and that’s when I get hurt. That’s when I want to say “Fuck you, I bring home a paycheck too! Paychecks aren’t the point here!” But I don’t because that doesn’t work. In one ear and out the other. So, another night goes by with someone on the couch and little more "bitter" builds.

The days of my home smelling like different exotic fragrances are long gone. Now it seems to smell of sanitizer more often than not. Sanitizer, sanitizing funky man shoes. The bathroom used to smell like a woman. It was gently fragrant- Tiffany perfume, powders, my homemade lotions and scented soaps. Now it reeks of Boss and Cool Water and industrial strength deodorant and harsh, skin peeling man soap. The bedroom was the same, it used to smell of whatever essential oil or lotion I was wearing that week or the homemade scented candles I used to burn: Rain, Jasmine, Tiffany, Rose, Honeysuckle, Patchouli….Now? Now it mostly smells like socks. Socks and Odor-Eaters.

There was a time when showering, dabbing on a light fragrance and moisturizing freshly shaven legs with subtle scented lotion was comment worthy. Now instead of hearing a deep inhalation and “God you smell amazing!” I hear (from the other room) “HAHAHAHA! Hey honey, come watch this guy get his ass kicked on Cops! I think they’re gonna sic the dog on him! HAHAHA!!!” I’m not saying I should be praised for bathing and I know the above statement kinda comes off that way. “Hey, way to go Aza, you washed your smelly butt today. Want a cookie or a gold star?”.

All I’m saying is I wish the little things still mattered or were at least commented on. I wish it was recognized that I run a household, make sure all of the bills get paid, do most of the shopping, cook most of the meals, pick up the occasional semester at school, go to the gym, try to look after my dad’s needs, and oh yeah, I have a job. It would be different if I stayed home all day and this was my job but running the house much less attempting to look cute in the process is just one of many. That’s why I wish my efforts were recognized rather than feeling like they‘re expected. So here’s a few tips for the guys in the audience…

~ Toilets don’t clean themselves…someone does that job. If you haven’t cleaned it lately, guess who has? The same rule applies to the sink, shower and floors.

~ If you’re gym sneakers don’t stink, guess why, because someone set them in the sun for a few hours or put some powder in them. You’re just going to have to trust me when I say the reason your nasty sneakers don’t stink IS NOT because your foot sweat doesn’t smell like ass.

~ When she says “We need to talk” chances are, as frivolous as you think the topic is, she thinks it’s life or death (or it at least feels that way to her). Now is not the time to lessen or downplay what she has to say or how she's feeling. Now is the time to listen with a compassionate ear and be ready to brain storm solutions with her until the crisis has passed (even if it was just in her mind all along).

~ If you wake up to find your hands soft, supple and moisturized it’s because someone was sweet enough to massage lotion into those hard, calloused, sand paper factories while you were sleeping. Contrary to popular male belief (and it seems like only married men believe this) hands are not self lubricating and there is no such thing as lotion fairies. Let’s face it, for most men the only thing your hands got moisturized with before you got married was with K-Y or Jergens and it wasn‘t because you were interested in your hands appearance or even skin care in general.

~ Women are born soft however, we have to work at it to stay that way. Why do you think the lotion, shampoo/conditioner, body wash, foot care, essential oil and exfoliating product industry is an actual industry…because we make it one. We buy all of that crap to stay soft, moisturized and smelling pretty.

~ Please do not take for granted the effort we go to. Just think of it this way- If we didn’t go to the trouble, we’d smell and feel like you. Now ask yourself this, “Do I want to have sex with something that bathed in cologne, has rough hands and creepy feet?” It’s not an appealing thought is it?

~ If you’re pissed off or angry about something for God’s sake SAY SOMETHING! The “silent treatment” is all of the following: cruel, childish, selfish, hurtful and shows major power and control issues on your part.

~ If you walk into a clean room yet you know you didn’t leave it that way when you left for work that morning, I promise it wasn’t house cleaning gnomes. Someone went to work, worked a 9 hour shift, came home and cleaned up after you right before starting dinner.

~ Bitching about dinner isn’t conducive to it being made often. Do not complain when there isn’t enough salt, pick up a salt shaker and use it. Do not complain when it hasn’t hit the table fast enough, walk your butt into the kitchen and ask if there’s anything you can do to help (please attempt to make it sound sincere).

~ When you walk into a room, see candles burning, hear soft music playing, smell a heavenly scent and see a scantily clad woman before you with lust in her eyes….SHE’D LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU! Kicking off your shoes and turning on the television will not only fuck up her self esteem it will simultaneously hurt her feelings and piss her off.

~ Similarly, when she walks into a room fresh out of a hot bath or the shower draped in a towel, stops at the door and says or does something sexy with lust in her eyes…again (and I'm really stressing these)…SHE’D LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU! Turning back to the television and saying something stupid will not only fuck up her self esteem it will simultaneously hurt her feelings and piss her off.

~ Intentionally withholding sex will as mentioned above, fuck up her self esteem and simultaneously hurt her feelings and piss her off. Instead of fantasizing about you…. having sex with her when she masturbates, she will fantasize about you….. getting served.

~ When she says “I could really use some support right now” pulling out your cell phone to play the latest downloaded game or turning on the television is just plain rude. It is at this time that it would be in your personal best interest to take 5 minutes out of your busy schedule, remember all of the times she has been there for you and give her those 5 minutes. I can almost guarantee you she is not looking for solutions, instant answers or a quick fix. She's probably just seeking a shoulder and an ear. Remember the old saying “A burden shared…” yeah, that’s the point.

This is the short, short, short list guys, feel free to share it with your friends. To sum it all up in a single sentence “Showing gratitude gets you laid while making those laying you feel good about themselves and all they do”. It really is a win-win situation. It all boils down to a touch of gratitude and a bit of appreciation goes a long way in a woman‘s world.

Do I feel better now that I wallowed in pity? Nope, cause I know it won’t do a damn bit of good.

“Milestones” and “That’s why it looks like that“…

2007-01-15T04:19:00.000-05:00

Milestone #1- Eleven days ago…. I. Quit. Smoking.

Seriously.

This is HUGE!

Here’s why- I’ve smoked for nearly 20 years. Yes, you read that right. Nearly 20 years. Seriously, do the math. I’m 28, my mom was killed in the car accident when I was 11 and I started smoking a few years prior to her death. Everyone I’ve told that to gets the same sorry ass “That can’t be true” look on their face. Well screw you, it is. I smoked my first cigarette at 8 or 9- it was a way to cope.

I’ve attempted to quit twice before- both were failed attempts lasting only a day or less (I actually smoked while on the patch). What makes this attempt different is A/ It’s been 11 days! and B/ I’m using Chantix (a smoking cessation drug that just recently hit the market). I started taking it December 25th with a quit date of January 1st (you’re supposed to start taking the drug 7 days prior to your quit date). Of course D and I got into a giant fight Jan.1st (Milestone #2- which also happened to be our 9th year wedding anniversary) so the date got pushed up a few days…the 4th. So here I sit, 11 days into being a “non-smoker”. I can’t believe prior to my starting the habit in the first place that that’s the longest I’ve ever been a non-smoker.

Oh, and since I’ve not had a cigarette in 11 days I’d like to share a little secret I’ve learned while in public and at work; this secret is for all of you smokers out there (and yes, this applied to me 11 days ago). Ready? Here it is…You fucking stink!!! Seriously you smell bad, really bad!

And

That’s why it looks like that…

It just recently dawned on me after the untimely death of my 1 year and 1 month old laptop (burn in hell you piece of crap!) that my fonts don’t come through for everyone so my headers that were in “freehand591 bt” made it look like “SURREPTITIOUS PSYCHOSIS” instead of freehand591 bt. To fix the problem I put in a back up code that looks somewhat similar to freehand, hence the corsiva back up.

Post Christmas Lamentations

2006-12-27T14:47:00.000-05:00

Well, maybe not so much “lamentation” as “realization”.

Christmastime- a spiritual time to gather ‘round those you love to share reflections on the previous year and visions for the coming year. A time for great food, laughter and all things sentimental. A time to recognize and express appreciation for those special people in your life and the little things they do.

Unless you’re one of the freaks in my husband’s family, that is.

Now to the “lamentation” part…

Our decision to ”opt out” of Christmas this year didn’t quite work as hoped and expected. We managed to hide from the majority of it but were still sucked into a little of this and a little of that. A little of “this” consisted of coworkers cramming the holly jolly spirit down my throat (much to my surprise, it tastes like chicken). A little of “that” consisted of D’s family.

As I sat in my sister-in-law’s living room staring at her “fireplace”- which was actually her T.V. with a continuous shot of burning logs in a fireplace (no, I’m not shitting you) - attempting to finger what that mystery odor (funk) was and where it was coming from- I listened to her and D’s mother argue over whether or not the queen satin sheets my mother-in-law bought from Big Lots and wrapped with care would fit on my sister-in-law’s full bed. I realized something….These people are rejects from the short bus circus.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to be mean here, I’m just sharing a revelation; I married into the granddaddy of all freak shows. Yes, I’ve always known this bit of information to some degree but nothing quite sends the message home loud and clear like a family gathering at the holiday’s.

I guess I can be grateful that my MIL didn’t ask when D and I would make her a grandmother (even though D’s sister has 3 kids). However, anticipating the question would be asked (for the 8 millionth time) I did have a pre-scripted answer (I was a little depressed that I didn‘t get to use it):

“M, as you know your son and I as of January 1st will have been married for 9 years-combining that with the 2 years we dated, we’ve been together for 11. Eleven, that’s your answer. If D and I haven’t had children in the last eleven years, what in the hell makes you think we’re going to start now? I know inevitably you’re next question would be ‘Why?’ Well M, it’s because I’m scared. In the last 11 years I’ve carefully observed the family dynamics going on here and to be quite honest- I’m terrified of the freak gene. Yes, you heard me, the freak gene. Do you remember 4 or 5 years ago at Christmas when you tried starting a fight with me over my decision to not jump right into having children and your heartbreak over not being able to baby sit these imaginary grandchildren you dreamt up? Remember what I said? Here, let me refresh your memory- I said ‘I’d rather leave my children to be baby sat by a pack of rabid dogs than you‘. M, I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, I meant that and still do.“

Now all of this may come off as cruel or mean to you, the reader. You must understand that D’s family has to be seen to be believed and even then you might not believe it. Plus, if I wanted to be mean or cruel I’d call my MIL and tell her what Santa brought me for Christmas…my period.

Until I get confirmation from at least three specialists that D does not harbor the freak gene within his seed, this uterus will remain barren.

So aside from our semi failed attempt at dodging Christmas this year I can happily report I’ve not had a breakdown. Yet.

Other exciting steamers on the plate…I’ve started taking Chantix for smoking cessation (this makes for an interesting future post), I think my brother is in town, D is currently dealing with major medical issues, Birthday high jinks, Pictures to share - etc. etc. etc. More on all of that in the coming days. As of now, I’ve got to go to work. Yay.

I hope everyone out there in bloggerland and those of you who read my crappy little page here had a wonderful Christmas. And if you didn't, I hope it was at least interesting and you can find the humor in it.

A day of infamy? Hardly!

2006-12-19T07:10:00.000-05:00

Twenty eight years ago today at this very moment, 7:10am Lil' Aza clawed her way out of the womb and was hurled into the world like an obscenity-spewing cannonball. How should those around me pay homage and express their undying gratitude for every breath I take, you ask? Being the ever humble person I am, all I ask for is a position of dictatorship. I know, I know… you’re shocked that I’d ask for so little considering I’ve contributed so much to the world. That’s just another amazing quality I exude…modesty.

Oh sure, there are some that would say my earth coming was the outcome of an unholy satanic rite. But they’re just being dramatic- a result of having watched The Omen one too many times.

Why are the following pictures so flippin’ funny?

2006-12-12T01:26:00.000-05:00

Well, for the following reasons…

1/ (and I stress this as being the most important) I’m sick in the head.
2/ Those are D’s feet.
3/ D is sound asleep (in fact, he’s snoozing away as I post this).
4/ That’s a damn good paint job considering the room is dark and I only had the light on long enough to snap some pictures with my phone and not during the actual paint job itself.
5/ He won’t notice his toes until 10 minutes till he’s due to work later today.
6/ Ya can’t go wrong in any situation with “Emerald Green”.
7/ For some odd reason seeing toes polished on size thirteen feet makes me laugh,...really hard.
8/ Screwing with people while they're asleep is just plain funny.

Let’s face it, this list could go on forever so I’ll leave it at the “Top 8 Reasons These Pictures Are So Flippin’ Funny”. My shenanigans have me all tuckered out- I think I’ll go to bed now.

Creepy dreams, odd play lists and “opting out”

2006-12-09T04:07:00.000-05:00

It doesn’t take a masters in psychology to know that stress tends to manifest in weird, sometimes disturbing ways. Such as dreams packed so full of symbolic imagery it makes the dream sequences in the film Twin Peaks appear simple, sane and normal or compulsively (and obsessively) listening to the same three songs over and over and over and over and over (ad infinitum) again.

“Overkill” by Colin Hay (the acoustic version), “Mandolin Rain” by Bruce Hornsby and “Mad World” from the Donnie Darko soundtrack.

I think I can blame my weird behavior (at the moment, anyway) both conscious and subconscious on “opting out” of Christmas and my birthday yet getting sucked into both (which I can (and will) fully blame on my fucking co-workers). I wanted the 19th to come and go unnoticed. I wanted the 25th to come and go unnoticed. The kids at work are doing everything but allow these two dates to pass by quietly. D and I had decided to “opt out” so we could get our finances (a major source of freak out stress) straight by the first of the year. No, no, no…we’ve got to make a big ole deal out of it at work. Two other coworkers happen to have December birthdays as well so after much debate and discussion I’m sucked in. I’ve got to buy all sorts of crap to keep the little ones happy. Yeah, it sounds bitchish of me and I could care less. I’m irritated that I cover these kids shifts and go out of my way on the schedule to make sure their social life stays intact. On top of it I have to flush my finances down the shitter to keep from having to put up with hurt feelings? I feel nothing shy of strong armed because I’m a giant push over.

I know there’s a lot more behind the creepy dreams and odd play lists. It’s just easier to target (and bitch about) the dingbats I work with rather than look at the major stressors.

So I’m a slacker

2006-11-28T22:08:00.000-05:00

But I fully intend to get back in the saddle and start blogging again regularly- Now in fact. Too many rants, raves and temper tantrums have passed away silently. They shan’t die in vain!

So here's the short list of my life- Val died, I withdrew, my vacation with D was far too short, Thanksgiving sucked ass, I (still) hate my coworkers, I’m not going to the gym or yoga, therapy with Whore-Hey has been cut back to once maybe twice a month and my brother is coming for a visit in December (which I am competely dreading).

November 10th?

2006-11-10T23:58:00.000-05:00

You've gotta be shittin' me!

I woke up today and it dawned on me...It has been almost three weeks. It feels like it's only been a few days since Val's funeral. Things have been so busy.

Finally, a chance to rest dear friend…

2006-10-25T15:42:00.000-05:00

Your sudden absence in our lives has left our souls aching with grief. Yet we rejoice in the fact that we were blessed to have known you. The lessons you imparted to us in your laughter, kindness and compassion….. the grief is worth it. Thank you Val, I pray for your peace and comfort on the other side. You are so deeply missed.

Val “Rudy” Sweat
July 20th, 1966 - October 20th, 2006

Manic? Maybe…

2006-10-18T22:58:00.000-05:00

Or maybe it’s “An idle mind is the devil’s playground”.

I have been in a funk. A restless, deep, dark, melancholy filled funk. So what have I been doing while submerged and cocooned within this funk? Everything. I put on my combat boots and declared war on it.

Knitting, working, going to the gym an hour a night faithfully, bitching at and about Whore-Hey, downloading dirty music to my MP3 for the gym, fantasizing about being a ninja (again) etc. etc. etc….

I think I’m just now beginning to find my footing. I actually got 4 solid hours of nightmare less sleep a few mornings ago.

A cathartic moment occurred at 3am three nights ago while sitting on the swing in my back yard, thong and tank top clad enjoying the coolness and stillness of the night. I’ve spent my life (literally) taking care of those around me. My dad and D would happily live the lives of 10 year olds eating fruit loops, snack cakes and coke if I didn’t go to the grocery store and insist on them consuming anything other than straight sugar (it‘s been a battle). Here lies the hypocrisy; I live off of straight sugar. I’ve survived on Sprite, the occasional candy bar and fast food- why? To maintain the energy level needed to run after and take care of all (not just D and dad) of the 10 year olds in my life.

So anyway, I’m sitting there two shades shy of naked when it dawns on me. The “More’s” and the “Lesses”. Since I’ve been going to the gym and wrapping my world in an even more frenzied lifestyle, I’ve been drinking water- more, I’ve been smoking- less (I do intend to quit- which I’m sure will bring on a whole new war between D and I) and I‘ve been taking the time to eat healthier foods- more. I’ve been looking in the mirror and hating the reflection staring back at me a little- less. When I sashay around scantily clad getting dressed to go somewhere and am unnoticed, I’m hurt a little- less. I am hoping for more but am learning to appreciate what less has to offer.

So was it really “cathartic”? No, not really. In actuality it was just a brief recognition of the obvious. Interestingly enough, while recognizing the obvious I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was sitting in my backyard, half naked, contemplating my current situation at 3am.

The funk is lifting.

Addressing an email here for anyone else having the problem...

2006-10-13T01:56:00.000-05:00

You keep getting tossed into my archives because you're coming into my blog by way of search engines (webcrawler, google, yahoo). As the specific post you're surfing in on gets older the search engines won't be able to get you here. The easiest way to get here is to type

http://phantasmagoricaldreams.blogspot.com

into your navigation bar at the top of your browser, then you'll be sent directly to my page and will be able to see recent posts.

Or to make it even easier, once you're here- bookmark the page or click "Favorites", then "add".

To serve and protect?

2006-10-12T22:47:00.000-05:00

Abso-freaking-lutely! But they really should add "And be thoughtful" to that motto.

I got pulled over tonight! I’m on my way to the post office after kicking my own ass at the gym and I see I’m being tailed. After a mile or so the blue lights get turned on so naturally I pulled over immediately. Officer “not so subtle at tailing people” gets out of his car, walks up and says “License and registration, please”. As I’m getting my license he asks “Do you know why I stopped you?” Let’s stop here for a moment.

Now me being me, I thought of a thousand hysterical (or what I thought would be hysterical) responses in a matter of seconds. After thinking it over I decided it’d be best not to impose upon him my sense of "humor" however, that did not stop me from testing the water…

So I say “Uh, failure to signal when you were pulling me over?”- he giggled. Good, he’s got a sense of humor. As he takes my license he says “No, I couldn’t read your tag until I got right up on you. I’m going to run your license and make sure you’re not a bank robber before I let you go. Be right back.” After a few minutes he comes back and I tried to hand him my registration, he says “Oh no, you’re fine I don’t need the registration.” So I said “So you know I’m not a bank robber?” he says “Yeah, you’re not a bank robber.” All this time he’s looking in my car (which I found rather irritating) so I asked him “Would you please stop eyeing my filthy car, I’m a little self conscious.” Again, more giggles. He says “I don’t think some CD cases and a yoga mat constitute filthy.” Then, “Your tag cover really is hard to see through.” I just sat there staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably. Then he said “You know, it’s hard to read the tag” So I responded with “Well actually I didn’t know.” (I honestly didn’t!) So I stepped out of the car and walked with him to the trunk. I stood there looking at it, a little pissed off with myself for not recognizing how oxidized the plastic cover had become. He says “See, it really is kinda hard to read.” I told him that there was no need to defend his decision to pull me over, he was right- it was hard to read. Plus me and my yoga mat passenger/accomplice really could have been bank robbers.

I'd like to add here that I think I’m one of the only people in this city that really doesn’t mind being pulled over (on the incredibly rare occasion that it has happened). If I screwed up, well, I screwed up and deserve to be told.

To make a very long story short(er) I chatted with him a bit about community affairs, where he was from, how long he’s been with the department, made him laugh so hard he made a weird coughing/wheezing noise, twice! etc. etc. etc. and finally ended the conversation with “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you but if you don’t mind I’ll happily take my ticket and be on my way.” he says “Oh no, I wasn’t going to ticket you, I just thought you should know.” I thanked him for being such a thoughtful individual, told him to have a safe evening and was on my way.

Thank God he had a sense of humor (and understood mine)! I can (and am) easily misunderstood for being a smart ass when in actuality my humor just tends to be incredibly caustic.

Embarrassing yet a little flattering

2006-10-12T12:17:00.000-05:00

I worked up the nerve to go to my gym’s 10:30am yoga class this morning and was quite pleasantly surprised. There were only two other students aside from myself (I really prefer small groups and individualized attention). The three major things that nearly kept me in bed rather than going (aside from being up until 5am....as most of you know, sleep is not at the top of my priority list) were A/ I haven’t been consistent in practicing yoga in years. B/ I hate large groups of people. And C/ I’m self taught- never been to a class in my life. I drug my butt out of bed and went anyway. Overall is was a good class.

At the end, our instructor came over to me and asked who I was trained under and where I got my certification. I told her that I was self taught and not certified. Her jaw dropped, she excitedly told me that I just had to get certified and start teaching immediately. Yeah, whatever. She said that there’s a serious need for instructors in our area and I’m more than ready for certification right now. So that embarrassed the hell out of me but was rather flattering. The next certification class is held in December…I’ll probably do it just to have another certification in my portfolio. As of right now I’m certified in FEMA’s “Animals In Disaster”, Pharmacy, Vet Tech, and some holistic stuff. Where’s it going to get me? Nowhere, but it’s something to keep me occupied in my down time (Ha! What “down time”?). My dad’s been trying to talk me into getting my Reiki certification forever now (he‘s certified in damn near everything a person can be certified in- from firearms to meditation instructor to anger management instructor to Reiki Master to all of the FEMA courses offered to ordained minister, etc. etc. etc.- the list goes on and on).

Anyway, it was kinda fun so I’ll probably try to dedicate an hour out of my schedule Thursday mornings to the class.

The rest of my afternoon off from work is dedicated to laying in bed watching football (God I love NFL Replay!) and maybe downloading more music onto my MP3. I have a feeling (and I hope I’m wrong) work is going to suck massively tomorrow.

Tonight after the rush I’ll try to go back to spend a little time on the treadmill. They stay busy until around 10pm so I’ll only get in an hour but it’s better than nothing.

Yet another Visa commercial…

2006-10-10T19:15:00.000-05:00

$393.76- 12 month gym membership
$89.00- MP3 player for jamming at the gym

The way my butt is going to look in 3 months….priceless!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system.

I’m antsy about joining the gym. I guess I went during a really busy time today because they were packed.

Lots of people + Aza’s Quasimodo self image = nervous wreak!

Now if I can just work up the courage to actually go and work out.

Two major plus points- 1: Three big screen TV’s upstairs (one tuned into ESPN- which totally rocks!) in front of a line of treadmills and 2: There’s a quiet room at the back of the gym where it would appear I can do yoga relatively undisturbed.

In unrelated news, I’m thrilled because this….

finally came in the mail today; an adorable little Corpse Bride cami & thong set courtesy of Hot Topic. So ladies, if you're a Tim Burton fan- it's on sale (I think they only have a few mediums left in stock because when I called to check my order status a few days ago I was informed I was lucky to "get the last small we had")! I'll probably never be able to work up the nerve to actually put it on (again, because of that whole Quasimodo self image I've got going) but at least I can add it to the collection of cute, pretty, lacy, silky, things hanging in my closet encouraging me to get in shape.

I have what in my what !?

2006-10-09T22:58:00.000-05:00

The x-rays and results to the Upper GI are back.

Acid reflux- whatever. Who doesn’t have acid reflux?

However…

Arthritis in my left shoulder. 27 years old and I have arthritis taking up house in my left shoulder! Screw that! Being the proactive kinda gal I am- I’ve got physical therapy scheduled for the 16th and an appointment with a personal trainer at a local gym at 4:30 tomorrow.

Yep, you heard it here first- I’m going back to the gym. I’m thinking some strength training and toning would do me good. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to lessen the space my ass is currently taking up either. My main goal…a quiet place to do a little yoga. The last gym I went to was night club loud and when stretching or doing yoga poses provoked stares and whispered “I wonder if she can put her legs behind her head…Holy shit she can!” comments.

To my understanding this gym has great hours that may be able to provide a little peace and privacy. Here’s hoping. The major plus- I hear a lot of cops go there so at least I won’t have to worry about security when being in there at odd hours. Oh, and it’s located in the parking lot of a substation.

So in short, I intend on bidding my chunky ass farewell, and the arthritis can kiss it on the way out!

Hungry and even more anxious

2006-10-02T22:57:00.000-05:00

Here I sit fasting, again. Tomorrow morning a phlebotomist is going to instill a pipeline into my right arm and drain me of my very life essence. I think I’m going to puke. Anyway.

Upper GI went well. As well as Upper GI’s go anyway.

AJ is fairing well. As well as can be expected anyway.

D and I aren’t getting along so well, right now anyway.

Anyway

Thirsty and anxious

2006-10-02T04:59:00.000-05:00

I’ve not been to sleep because, well, I’m thirsty and anxious. I’m not sure what I’m more worried about- having to drink a bunch of nasty tasting crap (on an empty stomach) and have pictures taken of my guts or the results. I don't do well without my morning Sprite. Yes, the first thing I do when I get up everyday is drink an icy Sprite to settle my stomach. It works.

Actually, now that I think about it I’m not so much worried about the Upper GI as I am the bloodwork. Yep, I'm definitely more concerned with having to fast all over again and have 8 million vials of blood drawn tomorrow morning. I fucking hate needles! I fucking hate not having my Sprite!

October has it out for me!

2006-10-01T22:27:00.000-05:00

Well, in a little less than 45 minutes I will be allowed no food and no liquid until after 8 or 9am- after I get this stupid Upper GI over.

In other (more important) news I had another animal emergency this evening: this time it was one of mine. AJ is one of my wild rehabs; he is an 8 month old squirrel. I went out to the wilding cage today (wilding cage being exactly what it sounds like; a cage you put a critter in to get them ready for release in the wild) and AJ had a bloody face. I called my small animal vet (yes, I have a different specialized vet for each species I care for), told her AJ had a mouth injury…

(odd that it’s that kind of injury because I’m known for my work in rehabbing squirrels with facial injuries usually from being hit by cars or malocclusion cases and amputees. To my knowledge I’m the only one in my area that has been able to have squirrels thrive on a liquid diet (that was later published) for 2 months or longer during multiple dental/facial surgeries and the healing process. Heh, and the vets wonder why I’ve changed my phone number half a dozen times in the last 4 years.)

…and I was on my way. Soooo, turns out AJ managed to rip out one of his front upper teeth. This in itself is amazing. Because of the structure of their teeth, losing one violently is usually fatal. So the following was no surprise- in the process he broke his upper jaw and decimated his sinuses (if you’ve ever seen a squirrel tooth you know they are shaped like the letter “C”- the small part we see is just that- a very small part. The rest of the tooth goes up into the skull and curves straight back through the sinuses). The other tooth now resides at an odd right angle. Due to the extensive blood loss and damage we were unable to remove the remaining tooth. If we’d taken it he would have probably bled to death or we would have destroyed more of his upper jaw. Solution? Liquid diet, antibiotics and pain killers for two to three weeks until the skull heals, then we remove the tooth; $400.00 later- happy upper-toothless squirrel on a specialized diet.

Unfortunately this makes him a permanent. Fortunately he was only a few days old when he came in so he doesn’t know the virtues of living a wild life (we were planning on a late October release).

This month is off to a shitty start!

Doctors and asshole video store managers

2006-09-28T17:41:00.000-05:00

First, doctors…..

If my body is my temple, my temple mirrors one of those wigwam shit holes across the street.

I went to the doctor today. I went for a few reasons…

1/ My doctor and therapist are going to be kinda working together over the “panic attack” issues.
2/ My left shoulder is fucked up and much to my dismay ignoring the pain, burning and clicking noises it has been providing me for a few years now isn’t a remedy.
3/ My tummy hurts.

I was in a car accident 5 or so years back that royally screwed up my left shoulder (some uninsured asshole decided it‘d be a good idea to drive his car up underneath the bed of my truck. It was in the middle of a sunny Sunday afternoon, I was stopped allowing a squirrel to cross the road, he was fucking with his stereo.) On and off since then it has given me problems. In the last year those “problems” have been nonstop. I’m not a fan of prescription painkillers so I’ve been eating OTC meds like candy for months. Which leads me to my tummy. Either I’ve completely blown my stomach up with stress or it’s the 6 to 8 Doan's, Advil, Tylenol, Aleve or whatever else I can get my hands on that I’ve been eating daily so I can make it through work and to help me sleep. My tummy hurts and I’m all acid refluxie so to combat that I’ve been drinking tummy stuff like water for over a week now.

Doc says to me today “We need to figure out if your stomach issues are stress related or if you’ve screwed yourself up with OTC’s. So here’s what we’re gonna do…” At this point in the story I’d like to stop and clarify that “So here’s what we’re gonna do” actually translates into “So here’s what I’m gonna make you do…”

We, (which really means me) are going to have the following done…

Protonix QD for the tummy
Klonopin BID for the freak outs
Left shoulder x-ray
Extensive blood work (which will in the process rule out H-pylori)
Physical therapy
And (I’ve saved the best for last) an Upper GI

Yay.

See, I went to the doctor 8 or 9 months back over my shoulder and neck hurting. I had 45 to 50% mobility. She gave me some steroids to reduce the swelling and referred me to physical therapy.

The upside was the steroids worked- my shoulder stopped hurting and I regained the mobility in my arm and neck for awhile. The downside was…my penis disappeared and I was left with a giant set of nuts. Okay so you didn’t think it was funny but I did…and that’s what matters.

Anyway, during that period of time I had decided to start going to counseling again. I had two choices. A/ spend $40 once a week getting my head straight or B/ spend $40 three times a week in physical therapy getting my shoulder straight. I chose the mental therapy. Now I’m going to be stuck doing both. Unless, that is, I want to end up having to have surgery on my shoulder or my guts because of all of the aspirin I take to make my shoulder stop hurting.

Second, asshole video store managers….

D went to the video store last night to rent a movie. Clerk says “You have an $84 dollar late fee.” D says, “Uh, no I don’t.” Clerk says “Yeah, it’s for 50 First Dates, you never returned it.” D says “That was months ago; my wife bought that movie for her dad. BOUGHT. As in PAID FOR. Not rented.” Clerk says “No, we rented that movie to you. We didn’t sell it.” I’m going to stop here (because this shit goes on for an hour) and cut to my part in the process.

D called me, told me what was going on and that the manager would be there at midnight if I wanted to deal with him. I was three shades past livid. Why? Because this is the third THIRD, time these assholes have SOLD me a movie, then turned around and said it was rented.

I went up there at midnight raging pissed but still actively seeking resolution. Resolution went out the window when the manager asshole tried to convince me in extremely broken English that I was trying to rip him off for 6 fucking dollars (the movie was for SALE for 6.99, the idiot clerk charged me .99 as a rental….hence the giant fucking late fee). I explained that this was the third time this had happened, I fully intended on contacting the B.B.B. and would not under any circumstances pay an $84 dollar late fee that I did not owe. I also told him that one of two things was going on; either he was a fucking thief (since this has happened three times now) or he had incompetent employees that can’t tell the difference between a sale and a rental. I explained that I got a card in the mail months ago saying the movie was 8 days late. I called the number on the card and told the guy I BOUGHT the movie. He said he’d take care of the account and make sure it reflected the purchase.

So what did this dumbass decide to do? He started to yell at me. I asked him once “Will you please lower your voice and quit yelling at me?“ he kept yelling. I then told him “Stop raising your voice with me, I will NOT be spoken to like that.” he kept yelling. I responded with “Do you really want to get in a yelling match with me? I can assure you right now that you won’t win.” he kept yelling. So…..I started screaming at him at the top of my fucking lungs. The store emptied, the employees freaked. I told him he could close my account, eat the motherfucking DVD and shove the fucking late fee up his ass. I also told him if I got a bill in the mail I was going to take it directly to my attorney.

I left the DVD on the counter and stormed out with him yelling at me that I was a thief and a liar. I told D what had transpired and how ashamed of myself I was for showing my ass. As soon as I got to the part where Dickhole called me a thief and liar, D didn’t say another word. He got in the car and went back up there. Dickhole didn’t yell at D, he didn’t call him a thief and he didn’t call him a liar. D has a few slight advantages over me- he doesn’t raise his voice (he stays creepy calm with an expressionless face), he stands 6’4” and weighs in at 225. I guess Dickhole figured it’d be a bad idea to piss off a guy that big and that creepy calm. An hour later D comes home, DVD in hand and says “I’ll deal with it from here on out.”

He was on the phone with someone over it today on the drive to my doctors appointment. I’m not sure what’s going on with it but I do know this: screw Dickhole!…I’m not paying that idiot a dime for an imaginary late fee! If I owe him anything, it’s 6 dollars because his stupid employee rang me up wrong. It would really be in Dickhole’s best interest to take the six fucking dollars because D has made it clear that he has no intention of letting this go.

It makes me ill at heart

2006-09-25T13:44:00.000-05:00

(yes, this is going to be a long entry).

My family has owned our property for 50+ years. It is the same for most of the people on our side of the street. Our homes and cars are well kept, our lawns should be featured in Better Homes and Gardens. Our “side” of the neighborhood is beautiful.

Across the street is a different story. Twenty or so years ago most of the people sold their homes, died off or moved away. All of the properties on that side of the street were bought up by some sorry scumbag landlord. Since then it has exchanged scummy landlord hands dozens of times. With each exchange the property decreases in value, the inhabitants get nastier and nastier and yet the city does nothing- which in turn has decimated my property value. These shitty landlords keep the “homes” just barely above condemnation standards. I wouldn’t make wild rats reside in these HUD-like wigwam shit holes.

As I mentioned, the inhabitants of these condemnable rat nests are no better than their surroundings. These people have no standard of living; most of them are ex-felons that have no concept of cleanliness and are in general disgusting examples of humanity. Seriously, it’s like a third world country over there. They sit outside all night long, burn garbage (Yes, I’m serious), drink (off that monthly welfare check they collect), yell, blare music and beat the shit out of each other. Those of you who read my blog fairly regularly have already been introduced to one fucker in particular that lives over there. That fucker is a very important part to this story.

We learned a long time ago not to call the police when they‘re out there drinking, yelling and fighting. We‘ve been threatened that if we do call the police, our home will be burnt down, we’d be physically assaulted, our dogs shot or poisoned, our cars broken into etc. etc. etc. A few years ago one of the shitfuckers over there actually threatened to rape me if he caught me outside checking my mail because I’d made the mistake of calling the cops on him for beating his wife. Needless to say, we try to keep to ourselves (everyone on this side of the street does) unless a situation arises that absolutely warrants our involvement (like our intervention with the kitten). Oh, or when child services leaves a card on our mailbox because they are openly investigating the shitbags that live over there.

So. Late Friday night the fucker across the street was at it again. Now keep in mind, this is the same house of assholes that tried to kill Kaz and the same house of assholes investigated by child services. The loud music and hollering started around 11pm. At 1am D and I went out on the back patio to smoke (we don’t smoke in the house). The music was still blaring and this guy was still outside hollering…at nothing. He’s just standing in the street yelling “WOO-HOO!!!!” at the top of his lungs. D started to get really angry. He told me he was going to go over there and say something. I told him you can’t reason with a drunk, the guy will get tired sooner or later and shut up. I told him to leave it alone. 2am rolls around, D and I were finished watching (through the blaring radio across the street) the movie we rented and were ready to go to bed (we both had to work Saturday). The guy is still out there showing his ass and D wanted to call the police at this point. I convinced him to ignore it and go to bed. If the police were called the same thing would happen that happens every time the police are called. The music would be shut off until the police leave, ten minutes later they’d crank it back up (louder than before) and walk down the street yelling “Whoever called the fuckin’ law is gonna regret it”. Same thing. Every time.

Somewhere around 3:30am the music was turned off (or down to a reasonable level where I couldn‘t hear it word for word 100 yards away in my bedroom). All was quiet in the neighborhood. Temporarily. By 5:30am eight hundred cops, three detectives, and the county coroner were on the street roping it off. My first thought was one of two things probably happened: 1/ the fucker drank too much, passed out on his back and aspirated on vomit or, 2/ someone had finally gotten a gut full of the bullshit and shot him to shut him the fuck up. Whatever. I wish I had been right.

And here’s where it gets bad. Really bad. On my way to work later in the morning I stopped at the corner store to buy a soda. I asked the cashier if any cops had been in talking about a suicide or murder on my street. She said that the lady they just hired a few weeks earlier for the overnight shift- who also happens to live in the same house as fucker- had been called at 5am and had to leave. Apparently her 3 month old baby had died. I freaked.

All day long at work I thought about that poor little baby, Kaz, child services and that fucker up all night blaring the goddamned radio whooping and hollering in the street. By the time I got home I had thoroughly convinced myself that if I had just let D call the police at 2am maybe that fucker would have turned off the radio, gone inside and paid attention to what was going on with the baby. After agonizing over it with my dad I called the police and spoke to the lead detective. I told him that jackass had been up all night partying and raising hell. I told him I knew they had been investigated by child services but still didn’t call the police over the loud music because of the threats. The detective told me that they knew what had gone on and that fucker wasn’t in charge of the children (he insinuated that another adult was in the home at the time of the baby‘s death). He went on to say that even if the police had been called it wouldn’t have changed the outcome; the baby still would have died. I asked if it was SIDS, he said he couldn’t say because the coroner report wasn’t in but he could say that they were not investigating it as a murder.

Sunday’s paper had a tiny blurb in it that read: “Baby’s death unsuspicious. Foul play is not suspected in the death of an infant early Saturday morning, the JSO said. Police responded to a home on the ---- block of (my street) around 5am. The cause of death is undetermined and is being investigated by the Medical Examiners Office, police said.”

And now to yesterday. Same fucking house, mind you. There’s a young boy that lives over there (the former owner of Kaz). He has a pellet rifle. I’ve gotten on to him twice about not shooting at birds or squirrels (I found a dead squirrel in my yard last week). He was over there yesterday shooting at a target on the ground (I guess my threats of calling the police got through). He set the rifle down to go get something and I shit you not, the three year old that lives there walked over and picked it up. The woman sitting outside watching them did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I stood there completely fucking floored. A baby died in that house not 24 hours before and she’s sitting there allowing a three year old to handle and play with a high power pellet rifle. Un-fucking-real.

Want to put a smile on a complete strangers face?

2006-09-21T21:36:00.000-05:00

Send a card.

Seriously.

Tuna Girl’s very dear friend Patrick is in the hospital tonight recovering from surgery. Now just how cool would it be for Patrick to get his mail and find a bunch of get well cards from complete strangers across the country- maybe even from around the world (hint, hint my foreign friends)? Yeah, that’d be pretty freakin’ cool.

It's hard to smile when you don't feel good. So, I don’t know Patrick but I’m going to do it. I'm going to send him a get well card because I think it will make him smile.

You should do it too- Jot down the below address and stick it in your purse or wallet. When you’re out and about tomorrow take a moment to stop and buy a card (even a postcard). You don’t have to write something all elaborate just “Get Well Soon” will suffice. Stick a stamp on in and drop it in the post.

You have to admit 10 minutes out of your day and 39 cents (or 21 cents if you send a postcard) to make someone feel better is a small investment for a huge payoff.

Patrick Doyle
PO Box 8409
New York, NY
10150

~UPDATE~

Here's a pic of the card I sent. Yeah, it's another crappy cell phone pic but you get the idea...

NFL Network presents

2006-09-19T20:34:00.000-05:00

NFL Replay

It really is a brilliant idea. It goes a little something like this…

“NFL game broadcasts from the previous weekend, complete with original television announcers and cameras, will be re-televised on NFL Network, just days after their live airing.

This marks the first-time in the 86-year history of the NFL that games from the NFL regular-season or playoffs are shown outside their live window.

During the 2006 season, NFL Replay will feature four of the most exciting games from the weekend, re-airing exclusively on NFL Network Tuesday and Wednesday evenings.

Two contests will be shown each Tuesday and Wednesday night with 8 and 10:30 p.m. ET kickoff times.

NFL Replay games will air in a 90-minute fast-paced format, without halftime and other elements not critical to the outcome. NFL Replay will tell the story of the game with additional features.

In order to give the games context, NFL Network will add sideline and on-field sound captured during the game and post-game press conference sound bites.

Other enhancements will include exclusive shots and camera angles from NFL Films, allowing fans an inside look at game action they did not see on Sunday. This will give fans a deeper understanding of the game, the players and the coaches.

For example, if NFL Replay was featuring the Colts-Steelers AFC Divisional Playoff where Jerome Bettis fumbled late in the game, viewers would see related comments from Bettis, Bill Cowher and others immediately after the play, as well as slow-motion footage showing the play as it unfolded.

NFL Network has the ability to select any NFL game for use on NFL Replay.”

So there it is. My (less than) two cent contribution to football mania. The only thing that could make the whole “NFL Replay” idea even better is if during every play- and I mean Every. Play. they synced it to the Benny Hill theme song (Yakety Sax). And why not? Most of us already saw the game Sunday; why not spice it up a little so we can relive those precious moments "Benny Hill style"?

And now you know why I laugh my ass off during most games.

(P.S. Kudos to you TMC, for rockin' the Kurosawa films!)

Alive- using the term loosely

2006-09-18T21:10:00.000-05:00

All month my schedule has sucked!

Suck, suckity, suck, suck, sucks- I tell ya! I’m just not fucking functional working 13 hour shift after 13 hour shift. It will be back from vacation this coming Monday and life may begin to return to normal.

Normal….ba-ring it!

What are your plans tonight?

2006-09-14T08:58:00.000-05:00

If somewhere along the line you didn’t say “My agenda includes going here to click on that which applies to me so I can listen to him“, then you’re not nearly as rockin’ cool as you think you are. Seriously. I’m not trying to be hurtful here, I’m just trying to impart a little truth in your world.

David‘s show rocks because he’s funny, he takes requests, he’s hot (so is his voice), and he is currently stalkerless (no, I don’t count). I would probably fit the stalker bill if I weren’t so incredibly lazy as I only had enough energy to cut the face out of all of the pictures of my ex-boyfriends and paste his face over them (it’s easier to remember dropping a hot guy rather than the usual geekin’ retard I dated). Anyway, that’s pretty much where I lost my stalking momentum. Yeah, it’s weak, I know.

Okay so to spell it out for you (since I know you’re too lazy to click on the above links) here are step by step instructions for my fellow shortbusiens…

1/ At midnight tonight, go to the WYEP stream page.

2/ Click on the stream you use.

3/ Listen to David rock out and entertain your brain.

What color is your aura?

2006-09-12T22:11:00.000-05:00

I jacked this from over at Such A Pretty Face. It's creepy because it's pretty damn accurate.

Your aura colours are overlapped. Your most likely colours are:

Green.

Greens are strategists. They are analytical, organizers, planners, mental, abstract, inventors of the to-do list. They can be unfeeling.

Crystal.

Crystals are healers. They are private, spiritual, readers, socially awkward, rehearsed, shy, retiring, proper, misunderstood and unappreciated. They can seem fragile.

Physical Tan.

Physical Tans are soldiers and boyscouts. They are independent, responsible, sober, cautious, deliberate, calculated, dignified, reticent, individualistice and physical. They can also be rigid and inflexible.

Find out what colour your aura is.

~"Greens are strategists. They are analytical, organizers, planners, mental, abstract, inventors of the to-do list. They can be unfeeling.

Intellectually intense, and able to pare an idea to the bone-these are attributes of an analytical Green. Greens measure their own worth by their ability to be productive, generating countless ideas and projects, and by their creative ability, which allows them to devise innovative, workable solutions to problems. They are the planners, organizers, and strategists of the Personality Spectrums.

Their greatest fear is that what they create and produce will not be good enough and they will be found lacking. This low sense of self-esteem leads Greens into an emotional box canyon where being perfect is seen as necessary to earn the love and respect of those around them. The major lesson that all Greens must learn is that life can be easy, elegant, and fun, but if they wish to live that kind of life, they must give up their emotional need to be perfect."

~"Crystals are healers. They are private, spiritual, readers, socially awkward, rehearsed, shy, retiring, proper, misunderstood and unappreciated. They can seem fragile.

Crystals are natural healers. They utilize energy to transform light into healing rays. They become the medium or the conduit through which healing passes. They are able to increase their personal, physical power to the point where they are able to cleanse the minds and souls so that physical healing can follow. Their biggest challenge is learning how to cope with the gift of healing. In order not to attract attention to themselves, Crystals become the chameleons of the spectrum, assimilating other colors into their aura in order to hide or protect themselves. They clutter up their own energy field when they do this, bringing harm to themselves. This act also confuses others. The challenge for Crystals is to learn to know themselves and what their special gifts are so that they do not have to disguise themselves through emotional camouflage."

~"Physical Tans are soldiers and boyscouts. They are independent, responsible, sober, cautious, deliberate, calculated, dignified, reticent, individualistice and physical. They can be rigid and inflexible.

Physical Tans are one of the three Eclipse Colors. An eclipse is different from an overlay. To have an eclipse in the aura means that the individual has two bands of color that completely surround the body, one outside the other. These two colors are interpreted as one color. This distinctive color pairing has its own character and personality style; it is not a marriage of the characteristics of the two colors that make up the combination. The two colors that make up Physical Tan arc Mental Tan and Green. While Mental Tan and Green are both in the Mental Family of colors, the eclipse combination of the colors produces personality and character traits similar to those of the Yellow. Therefore, Physical Tan is one of the Physical (body) Personality Spectrums colors. Physical Tans experience themselves as the physical center of the three-dimensional world that surrounds them. Their bodies behave like sonar sensing devices. They are constantly sending out signals and absorbing the echoes, translating the messages physically so that they can then process them mentally. The strength of this color combination is that both components are independent, responsible, and willing to be theft own authority. This means that people with this Eclipse Colour tend to stand back and observe what is going on before they commit themselves. However, once committed, they are self starters and initiators. They have a sense of their own individualism, which they hold as sacRed.

The greatest challenge for a Physical Tan is to develop flexibility. Their experience of life has reinforced their belief that in order to beloved, they must perform according to other people's expectations. To a Physical Tan, this means that they must carry out a task, fulfill an agreement, or deliver a product before they can experience acceptance and love. This tends to make them rigid and inflexible in their expectations of themselves and others. By understanding their own nature, they can come to know that there is a place for them in life, where they will have autonomy within the system."

Yeah, I thought it was touching, too.

2006-09-08T23:11:00.000-05:00

Elephant's Memory - Touching Story.

In 1986, Mkele Mbembe was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from college. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air.

The elephant seemed distressed so Mbembe approached it very carefully. He got down on one knee and inspected the elephant's foot, and found a large thorn deeply embedded in it.

As carefully and as gently as he could, Mbembe worked the thorn out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look on its face, stared at him. For several tense moments Mbembe stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away.

Mbembe never forgot that elephant or the events of that day. Twenty years later he was walking through a zoo with his teenaged son.

As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Mbembe and his son Tapu were standing. The large bull elephant stared at Mbembe and lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Mbembe couldn't help wondering if this was the same elephant. Mbembe summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder.

Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk a round one of the man's legs and swung him wildly back and forth along the railing, killing him.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

(Thanks Warren)

Inner sanctum

2006-09-08T00:07:00.000-05:00

My therapist knows I have a blog.

My therapist knows the name of my blog.

My therapist knows I’ve written about him in my blog.

My therapist strikes me as a curious person.

Should my therapist’s curiosity bring him here…I say, welcome!

Excuse the mess (I’m referring to this whole little “glimpse into my thought process/train wreak“ thing I‘ve got going on here) and side step the foul language if you would please- it’s draped everywhere. As I’ve mentioned to you in therapy, I curse like a sailor with tourette’s syndrome. If you’re looking for “depth” here George, you’ve come to the wrong place. I think we can all agree that we’ve stepped in deeper puddles. I’ll save my “depth” and “insightfulness” for the real world (as I have very little to spare and wouldn‘t dream of wasting it here). You should also know, this is not a “child friendly” site (because of the gratuitous use of obscenities and occasional penis reference) so (should you have children that have access to your computer) please remember to delete your cookies and wipe your browser after visiting (as you know, kids are smart, they know how to access the websites their parents do). And yes, mild nausea is a side effect to reading my blog.

I think you’ll find that my blog is my outlet. I rant, I rave, I throw fits and just plain show my ass in general fairly regularly around these parts. You already know I’m a sarcastic angry little snot so please don’t take the whole “Whore-Hey” thing to heart (should you actually decide to wade through all of the nonsensical crap that I write to the whole “Whore-Hey“ thing).

I know some of you (one of you specifically) may be thinking, “Dear God woman! Why on earth would you tell, much less welcome your therapist to your blog?”, why not? My dad stops by here every once in a while (heh, yeah, I know you’ve come here since the blog-a-thon, dad- I see you on my tracker), why not my therapist? The only two real major differences between what I write here and what I say in real life are the cursing- I don’t drop f-bombs in mixed company and the level of education that comes across. Amazingly enough, I’m incredibly well spoken…it’s a pity that doesn’t rub off on my writing.

Pass the popcorn, please

2006-09-05T23:23:00.000-05:00

I’m not a movie review writer, I’m not a writer. That being said, please bear with me as I stumble through passing along my thoughts on the two movies I finally sat down and watched.

MirrorMask really was like a cracked out (but cool) version of Labyrinth. Well, minus David Bowie’s spandex clad unit (read: penis outline) (just making sure we‘re clear). Not much to say here other than it was a sweet film and I’m sure at 9 or 10 I would have named it a “favorite”.

Moving on…

American Movie (check out the website) was excellent! It is one of the best Indy films I’ve seen in ages. As David (Spiderbites, not Bowie) mentioned, the film really is about a modern day Ed Wood.

Directed by Chris Smith and co-produced by Michael Stipe (yeah, the lead singer in REM), this movie is an actual biography/documentary (which is hard to believe at times) that follows aspiring film director/producer/actor Mark Borchadt as he struggles to make his version of the “American Dream” a reality. Filmed in their hometown of Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin, we follow Mark for two years through his day to day trials and tribulations with not just himself and his attempt to obtain his dream but his family, friends and finances.

Within the first twenty minutes of the film’s start I had an overwhelming urge to give this poor guy a hug (and that’s saying a lot because I am so not a touchy feely person). I guess it’s because I know so many people like Mark (“the lead“) and I (at times) feel a lot like his friend, Mike Schank (“main supporting“)- a recovering drug/alcohol addict who would obviously walk through the gates of hell if Mark, his closest friend asked him to. Simply because they are friends and Mike believes in Mark’s vision.

The movie is at times heart wrenching- because it’s so easy to become attached to the cast of “characters” which are Mark‘s relatives and friends. But there lies the quandary- it’s not a movie and there are no “characters“ so to speak, you’re continually (but gently and seamlessly) reminded of the fact that it’s a biographical documentary. The old, crotchety, tight fisted, pessimist “Uncle Bill” isn’t an actor and he definitely isn’t acting. He really is Mark’s uncle. He really is an old, crotchety, tight fisted, pessimist. He’s real, in a very mortal sense.

Even though it’s heart wrenching at times to watch these struggles take place, it’s consistently real which aided it in being consistently laugh out loud funny. So it’s consistently really funny. I’d rob the film of what I believe was its intention if I didn’t mention that it was also incredibly inspiring…in a really weird way.

To sum it all up in a sentence: “I laughed, winced and laughed some more“. In a word: charismatic.

Well that was interesting- in a horrific sort of way

2006-09-05T04:49:00.000-05:00

The last week has been a self inflicted kick to the balls. No, really. It feels like it lasted for a month. I’m not going to bore you with the ten mile long list of side effects or try to explain the process of a “mini” chemically induced psychotic episode. I’d like to try to put this little experiment behind me as quickly as possible and chalk it up to “And yet again Aza eludes that oh so beguiling Darwin Award”. Until that is, I can come to terms with, pull a cathartic message from, derive some kind of huge life lesson in or simply understand why, I do some of the stupid shit I do.

Anyway, I called my doctor early yesterday, explained the situation and was told under no uncertain terms to stop taking the Seroquel post-fucking-haste (apparently I was beginning to exhibit symptoms of a "syndrome" rarely associated with the drug. yay.)

I must say that I’m simply amazed at the fact I wrote any entries at all and to be quite honest- I don’t fully remember writing the last two. However, I do vaguely remember scaring the hell out of a few people who called last week. If they’re reading this I’d like to officially apologize and say to one person in particular…

“Dude, you’ve known me for nearly ten years- if you haven’t figured out by now that I’m a bona fide, self proclaimed nut job (and dumb-ass)….well, God love you, you’re just not going to get it. I do sincerely hope that our conversation (during my semi brief stint in la-la land) didn‘t fuck your head up too bad. As I generally keep my views regarding the universe, quantum physics and divinity to myself- I fear after our conversation that you will never look at toaster ovens the same. Again, I‘m sorry and well, in my defense- that‘s what you get for keeping company with crazy.”

In summary, I hope I’ve not done any (more) permanent brain damage. All things truly considered (or as truly as I’ll allow considering all things) overall, I feel a bit more lucid. So there’s that.

Cross sections of reality

2006-09-03T21:16:00.000-05:00

Me: So I’m thinking this is what it must feel like when your dead.
Dad: Wouldn’t surprise me.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Me: The only way I can describe it is- Have you ever had too much to drink but didn’t know it until you were put in a serious situation? You know, you’re half way through the drive home when it hits you “Oh shit! I SO shouldn’t be driving right now!”
Tabby: Oh yeah.
Me: Yeah, that’s the feeling I get every time I get behind the wheel and all throughout the day for that matter. Well, that or like I’m waiting to wake up. I’ve actually questioned myself on a few occasions on the way to work; Is this a dream?
Tabby: Oh shit, man!
Me: It’s fucking fucked and so am I.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Me: Have you been going into work early to avoid being around me?
D: No! You know I have a lot to get done before the boss comes back from vacation. Why would you ask that?
Me: Because I think you hate seeing me............ like this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Me: I feel like I should be grieving. I can actually feel the cynicism and sarcasm dying inside of me. I’m chemically dissecting and murdering aspects of my personality as we speak to make myself more tolerable to others. And then what will be left? An empty fucking shell.
Dad: Well, if you’d murder that foul language and smoking habit, I’d be happy.
Me: *sigh* fuck.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Me (anonymous over the phone): So these side effects are normal and upping the dose by 50mg every 4 days until I hit 200mg is a common way to prescribe?
A Pharmacist: Yeah, problem is you don’t know what your maintenance dose is and won‘t for awhile. Some people maintain on 50mg, others need 400mg.
Me (anonymous over the phone): I’m just trying to figure out right now if the ends justify the means and I really don’t know that I’m in a position to try to do that when all of this feels like a dream.
A Pharmacist: Hon, it boils down to this- This is a tough drug to get on and you need to know, it’s just as tough getting off. You’re in for a rough ride.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Me: I think I’m changing and I think I might hate what I’m changing into.
Dad: Better the demons we know than the angels yet met, huh?

A few beans shy of a burrito

2006-09-02T22:55:00.000-05:00

Aza is temporarily out of order at the moment. Rest assured, we have crews working diligently around the clock on the problem and expect resolution (ie., semi-full functionality) within days (we think).

We’re sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you.

Should you feel that you’ve reached this entry in error, please direct your concern to our complaint department (here or via Aza‘s cell voicemail). We may or may not give a shit and reserve our right to do so.

Thank you for your patients and understanding.

The Management

Surreptitious Psychosis

*tap, tap, tap*

Pass the Depends please…

Dinner for 10 (small villages)...

Wow, I really needed that!

Hell hath no fury like an Aza scorned!

And you thought you had it rough!

Who turned on the cool?

Thanks for nothing Fay! And an open letter to a scumbag.

A sad day for comedy indeed

Another post about ta-ta's

My Dad...

Be my support. Be my strength. Be my bra…

It’s official

It’s not a tumor and

Have you seen these?

A fellow blogger and one of the sweetest people around needs prayers

I'm Hit!

Looks like the only time I post is when I’m sick

Random thoughts at 4:10 in the am

A little message I'd like to pass on to the IRS with my check...

In honor of today’s scheduled events...

I felt like you should probably know this…

What is "In three pieces", Alex?

I didn’t catch a cold, a cold caught me!

Into the abyss

HSN, you get an “A”- for asinine!

2 Freakin' Years!?

Being an asshole can be expensive

An open letter to the Potential Deadbeat eBay Seller

Yeah, I'm here

Because it’s gratis and it’s poop. It’s gratis poop!

Who the hell is that and do I really care!?

tap, tap, tap…Is this thing on?

I'll update soon...

Mental wards fucking ROCK!!!

Insane in the membrane

Fuck Off Friday

I’d have cried if I thought it’d do any good

Well that killed 10 minutes...

I’m sick

Fuck Off Friday

This is why my dad rocks…

I was a meme virgin until…

Year of the infant

Happy Mothers Day...

I didn’t go to the gym last night but I did the next best thing…

It’s a depressing state of affairs!

101 reasons I am the coolest person that ever lived

Ugh

What the fuck ever!

Dumb but funny observations

I fell off the wagon at a party and started a bar fight all in less than a week...

An open letter to a dickhole

Easter- that’s a novel idea!

How’s that for honesty?

It’s hard work!

300.........assholes!

Early morning conversations...

Ever have one on those days where everything you eat turns to shit?

Something Evil Has A Hard On For Me

Yeah, smart move asshat!

Are we enamored with the anus?

He's My Favorite Boy

SWAT Team Hand Signals

Got A Little Captain In Ya?

Boozin’ And Bathin’ In The Wild Wild West

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow…

An open letter to the Retarded eBay Store Merchant

My Fine Is...$555.10

All things “girly” and "pouty"...

“Milestones” and “That’s why it looks like that“…

Post Christmas Lamentations

A day of infamy? Hardly!

Why are the following pictures so flippin’ funny?

Creepy dreams, odd play lists and “opting out”

So I’m a slacker

November 10th?

Finally, a chance to rest dear friend…

Manic? Maybe…

tap, tap, tap