*tap, tap, tap*

Is this thing still on?

Pass the Depends please…

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)...

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!

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!

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!

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?

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.

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

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

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.