Scrooge

So yes, I am a big time Scrooge this year. I did my Christmas shopping in 20 minutes at Tar-jay. In the gift card section.

The only people I bought actually presents that need wrapping paper and bows and all that jazz are for my parents-and I bought those on-line.

I've never been a gift card type person. The whole thrill of finding that perfect present that would make someone's face light up when they opened it, yeah that was me.

Bottom line is I'm just tired this year. That, and I won $1500 gambling Thanksgiving weekend so it made it real freakin' easy to stop by that poor man's Cosco and finish Christmas in no time flat.

The whole "B" word is coming up too, and I don't know how happy I am about that. I'm mean Jesus, I'll be 36. Thirty-six. Dare I say that is closer to the 40's then the 20's? Granted, I wouldn't go back to the two-oooohs for nothing in this world, and the thirties have been good to me thus far, but I'm tellin' ya....No birthday's have ever freaked me out, but when I turn 40 I think I'm going to have some kind of breakdown. At it is still over 4 years away.

Ahhhhh Haaaaa!

Yes, I've had an ahhhh haaaaa! moment.

As anyone who hasn't been bore with a super fast metabolism knows, weight loss/maintenance is a constant battle.

When I started this blog almost 3 years ago I was starting to lean towards being in the "chunky" category, which I quickly resolved before I headed straight towards the "tank ass" category.

I had put a few pounds back on the last couple of weeks. By a few pounds I mean my clothes still fit but were decidely uncomfortable. Dangerously close to going up a size.

Well now that weight is starting to come off. I'm a big believer in calories in/calories out.

What was the change? What was going on almost 3 years ago when I started this blog?

I was on the dayshift. I recently had to go to the dreaded shift for 3 weeks, in which I put on a whopping 7 pounds. In 3 weeks.

I eat like a farmer when I'm on afternoons. When I was a small child and my parents forced us into child slave labor for our Grandparents, things were greatly different. Lunch, or dinner as they called it was the biggest meal of the day. Breakfast was the second biggest, and sometimes what we call dinner or they call supper was just a small snack.

This is how I eat on afternoons. And I have no problem whatsoever in the maintenance of my weight when I'm on afternoons.

On dayshift I find it hard to even grab a banana and yogurt at 4 in the morning, much less a big hearty breakfast. Lunch usually flies out the window because I hit snooze one to many times. So by the time I am driving home from work I am Famished with a capital "F".

So there you go. I've done went and figured it all out!

It's offical

I'm a crazy dog lady. Long Live The King.

It's a bird...It's a plane...

It's kj as Supergirl. For Halloween that is. More to come......

7 months

Look who's 7 months old. Why, it's my puppy Nitro. I'd guestimate him at about 95 pounds now, considering he was 85 @ 6 months. The days of picking him up and getting on the scale are long gone.

The only way I could feel more safe is to have armed guards outside my house with machine guns.

Yeah, you'd have to be pretty stupid to break in here if you got a look at that great big head that is full of great big teeth.





Now I used to think that little hunny bunny (god help me that's what we call him most of the time) did not have an aggressive bone in his body. He is a baby that is bullied by the cats Oliver and Martini





and won't even go in the same room as the hamster. There will be no picture of the hamster Lucifer because I am deathly afraid of him and the only reason he lives in my house is because he is my nieces pet. That's all I got to say about that.

I figured the German Shepherd half of him that would be protective had not kicked in at all. Oh, he follows me from room to room and is incredibly attached and loyal to me, but when you see a 95 pound dog scamper away because your niece is cleaning a hamster cage you gotta kind of wonder how much balls this dog actually has.

Then we went for our walk and the really horrible neighbors with the really horrible pit bull had let him loose to run. As it snarled and ran towards us Nitro turned from hunny bunny to a dog that I do not know.

I did not know he had that many teeth as he bared every single one of them. He did not lunge at the pit bull, he just stood in front of me emitting a very scary low growl while showing the dog exactly how big his teeth are. The pit bull said "fuck this" and ran the other way. Then Nitro returned to hunny bunny status and pranced around me, who was now frozen in shock, fear, and awe, because he wanted to get walking again.

I have a feeling if anyone ever entered my house uninvited they'd leave on a stretcher. Who needs a gun when you can get a hunny bunny?

It should be illegal

So I got home from work last night around 1:00 am, a couple of hours earlier then I usually roll in. My niece, who lives with me, is the TiVo queen. This means I just might be able to keep up with all that water cooler talk about the hot new fall shows.

She had TiVo'd CBS's new show "The Class."

It should be illegal for CBS to advertise that the people behind the show "The Class" are the same people behind "Friends" and "Mad About You."

This is like comparing a little league team to a World Series championship team.

It. Sucks. Hardcore.

The Class tries as hard as a woman who just got laid properly for the first time.

Yes, it is that bad.

The only redeeming feature of this show is Jason Ritter, who shows great potential and really, really reminds me of his father, which I mean as a HUGE compliment.

Maybe it'd be ok if I couldn't keep up with the water cooler talk, eh? Unless it is about Jericho, of course. See post below.

I wonder

So I wonder if my day I had yesterday is how people live if they are rich or a housewife.

I'm guessing not, since rich people more then likely work thus the rich part, and housewives usually have kids which mean there is no way in hell you'd have a day like I had yesterday.

Unless you are a rich housewife that has a nanny. Yeah, that's it. Yesterday was like if I was a rich housewife with a nanny.

But not a maid, because I did have that chore to do, which only took an hour or so.

Then I was free........

So I spent a good portion of the day lounging on the couch, planted some bulbs for next spring, caught up on some emails, watched a couple of movies, surfed the net for awhile, and ate some bad for me food.

Heaven, pure heaven.

One thing that I did do yesterday was watch this on Y! TV. It happened by accident really, and I found myself riveted to my computer while I watched the first episode of Jericho.

Riveted. I'm telling you people, if the rest of the season of this show is this good......I've found a new addiction.

Lazy Saturday

So for the first time in a long time I think I might get a lazy Saturday.

A Saturday where I don't have to do anything that I don't want to do.

My friend C is coming over for a bit this morning. My lovely now 90-95 pound 6 and a 1/2 month old puppy has learned how to open the gate in my back yard. He's coming to install a taller gate with double locks.

Double locks for fuck's sake.

C has got to be real sick of my house, and eventually my I loooooove yooooooooou's are not gonna work anymore. I just want the work to end around here. My bank account wants the work to end around here. I shouldn't complain about that though, since it basically just costs me the materials because C looooooooooove's me.

So after C is done I have nada to do. My new business venture has taken up way more time then I thought it would (and made me a hell of a lot more money then I thought it would). You gotta love being on the ground floor for something that has just started out west.

On top of that I had all the construction stuff going on, a long distance type relationship going on, a very bad puppy, crazy working hours at my regular job, and friends that need to be seen.

I haven't had a fucking minute to myself in about two months. But today....The construction is pretty much done, the sometimes-boyfriend is on a guy's weekend, the very bad puppy is wore out from playing with his girlfriend, Rizzo the Boxer,



I am off work at my regular job, and my friends all have family crap going on.

A whole day to do nothing.

Honestly I can't remember the last time I had a day like that.

Oh how wonderful this shall be......

I'm a Soccer Mom

Ok, so technically I don't have any kids, but I now look like a Soccer Mom. At least while driving.

Who am I kidding, my big ass honking SUV's of the past made me probably look like a Soccer Mom, but I didn't see it that way.

This new vehicle, ummm yeah, it is total Soccer Mom.

You see ever since that fateful day back in 1998 when Chicago got dumped on with snow and my itty bitty Escort GT (you know, the really good Escort *snort*) would not get me out of here I have owned something that could switch to 4x4 and climb a damn mountain if necessary.

I think I wrote about it before, but here's a recap. My brother came to get me because there was no power and I used the last of my water (have a well, didn't realize it ran on electric) to fill up my cat and dog's bowls. So after one huge ass fight about how I was in no uncertain terms leaving my animals we (my brother, cat, dog, and I) made our way to his house because he had a generator. He had a big honkin' F250, and the normally five mile trip took an hour.

His two year old had chicken pox, and his 6 year old was just getting over them. Two very cranky kids. His wife was pissed that my animals came with, every freakin' person in the neighborhood was there, and I ended up breakin' up with my then boyfriend because we had a major cell phone fight.

I was trapped and I swore that would never happen again.

So I have always owned SUV's since then. With my tendency of crashing this isn't just for snow purposes people. I need something safe.

Well gas prices don't exactly mix with SUV's right now, mine had about 130,000 miles on it (I go lots 'o places), and I hadn't exactly kept up with the maintenance part of the deal.

As my truck was smoking and leaking, I pondered on why the hell I was so stupid and didn't keep up with that maintenance part of the deal.

Anyway, I had a choice. Fix it, which was going to cost some major $$$$, or get a new one.

So I bought a car. Not just any car, the car we make here in Chicago. The Soccer Mom car. A Five Hundred.




There they are rolling off the line where I work. It's a big honkin' car, just voted the safest in America.

Which I totally need.

While this isn't a vehicle I would normally pick out, I decided to support my plant and to support American made Union made products. I know, I know, those little foreign car manufacturers have their little plants here, but when you think that the American car companies employ like 3,000,000 people they they employ 300,000, it kind of puts it into perspective.

Yeah, hungry? Eat your foreign car comes to mind. How the hell did I get on my soap box? Ok, getting back down now.

So I decided to support Chicago. It isn't that it is a bad looking car. I totally love the way it drives and how it sits up high and the interior feels like a luxury car.

It's just that I've always had well different vehicles. Like when I bought my first car. It was this candy apple red Escort. Once I realized that there were a million other candy apple red Escorts my Dad and I proceeded to paint it PINK. Like Bubble Gum Pink.

I then bought a PURPLE Escort GT. Back then I couldn't fathom buying a car that costs as much as a really small house, so I always went cheap, and always went Ford for obvious reasons.

Then the storm hit and I bought my first semi-expensive vehicle. The Explorer.

Oh how I hearted that truck. I would probably still be driving it if it wasn't for that little incident with the black ice and the guard rail. Oppps!! The people that picked it up assumed I was dead, thus enforcing my belief that I needed a really big, safe suv.

So I'm back to a car, which I sure will make my tree-hugger Mama happy. I must admit, even though it isn't Pink, and even though it doesn't have a GT in the name, and even though it has four doors, I'm really diggin' it.

It's so smooth and quiet. You ride up high like in a truck, so you can really see. It has lots of cool bells and whistles like a navigation system and satellite radio.

All for way cheaper then my truck. I can probably get about 3 new coach purses a year with how much cheaper it is. Yay!

Let me tell you about the interior folks.....Beautiful soft leather seats that would fit a line backer. I feel like a size 0 model on a skinny day in it. My friend C, who is 6'5, can cross his legs in the back seat, which is good because the huge puppy Nitro



will have to fit back there.

So yeah, I'm diggin' being a soccer mom.

My GOD please tell me this doesn't mean I am fucking growing up, mmmkay?

Admitting is the first step

When is the last time you went trick-or-treating and dressed up and asked for candy?

I didn't do it last year, so for me it would be 33.

Age is a state of mind they say.

That is all.

Damn Disney to Hell

So if you have read this blog for any amount of time you may have come to realize that I love Halloween a little more then the average person.

Ok, I love it a lot more then the average person. The annual Halloween party that is thrown by my friends and I is the party of the year. It is the party that people talk about for months afterwards. It is the party that turns people into insecure 15 year olds praying they get an invite.

I'm having a bit of an issue this year. You see, my bestest friends and I always do some kind of theme. Like last year we were fairies, and another year we were fembots.

Well this year someone came up with the brilliant idea to be Princesses from Disney. Ok, the idiot was me. Originally we wanted to be Kiss, but since my sis-in-law just had twins in February it is going to take her another year to have her body spandex-ready.

Anyway, so I thought it would be cute to do the whole Disney Princess thing. Actually I have always always always wanted to be Cinderella for Halloween.

So I was excited when I found out that a local party store had their costumes out already. I went found a beautiful deluxe Cinderella costume. Just gorgeous.

Then I remembered why we are usually so original with our costumes and make them ourself.

The dreaded Adult-Size-Standard.

You see, the costume companies do not exactly anticipate that some of their customers may have bigger then a B Cup. The adult-size standard usually encompasses a size 10-12. No prob, as I'm an 8 on the bottom right?

As I slipped on the beautiful Cinderella dress everything seemed fine. I started zipping it. No problem as the zipper went over the small of my back with ease and room to spare.

Then I got to that spot about 4 inches above the small of my back. The dreaded area that I always have problems with.

About the only way I could get it zipped there would be a yard of material and a miracle from God.

I mean, check out the pictures of these damn disney princesses. They have a little tiny waist. They have no hips to speak of. Oh yes, they also have quite a rack.

Ummm hello that kind of costum would fit perfect!! Why don't they make them like that??? Why do they assume that every person that is a size 10-12 have the breast of a 10-12 year old boy?

What the fuck?

So I checked out some plus-sized costumes thinking that I could get someone to take it in for me. The only one they had was Snow-Freaking-White and I don't wanna be Snow-Freaking-White. They'd also have to cut 3/4 of the damn thing off to fit my damn hips and waist.

This is such bullshit.

So I can either be Snow-Freaking-White, buy the Cinderella costume and try and find fabric to make it bigger, or try like hell to find a plus-sized one somewhere out there on the Internet and get it taken in.

Looking on the Internet has not been working out to well. They have some, but not much in the plus-sized arena as far as Disney goes. Mostly ghastly Mini-Mouse crap. I did come to find a couple of "Sin"-derella costumes.

Sinderella? FFS...... Why is it they try and sexy up all these costumes? Sexy Raggedy Ann....Sexy Bo Peep....Sexy Judge...Yes, that's right, sexy judge. Anytime I have been standing in front of a judge sexy is the last thing I thought of, but I digress from my digression...

So Halloween is not going well so far this year. Will I be Cinderella? Will I be a rather grumpy Snow-Freaking-White? Only time will tell. Stay tuned.

Drowned

So last weekend, after a long couple of weeks, a few of my bestest girlfriends came over to celebrate the fact that I was finally getting my house back after all that construction.

One of my friends ~D~ brought up the fact that her little sister, who is 30, told her that at 35 ~D~ is now certifiabley old.

Pfffffft. Whatevah!

So we reminded her that while her sister maybe 5 years younger then her, she also has the wrinkles of someone 10 years older then us, with all the sunbathing she's done in her lifetime. We also reminded her that little sis hasn't exactly hit the treadmill in awhile either, if you know what I mean.

Ok, so maybe we were being catty and just a wee bit mean, but we need to perk up ~D~'s spirits because if she is certifiabley old, that means we are too.

We can't have that.

I'm pretty much convinced little sis's attack came from the fact that we all went out a few weekends ago and us geriatrics scored far more free drinks then the spring chicken. In fact, I don't think spring chicken scored one drink.

They say the best form of flattery is jealousy, no?

Our attempts to make her feel better led to a discussion on plastic surgery. Now looking at all of us, I wouldn't say that any of us were even close to needing it. I think acting immature for so long has helped us stay young looking or something. That, or we have just plain embalmed ourselves with alcohol over the years.

I mean I was upset last year when this guy thought I was 27...lol I guess it had to happen some day, me looking over that 25 year mark. I still get carded for cigarettes, so I'm not too worried.

Anyway, so everyone started discussing what they would get done if plastic surgery was free and had no pain involved whatsoever.

One of my friends wanted bigger lips, another wanted a breast reduction, one wanted implants, one wanted lipo....

Then the eyes turned to me. I'm pretty happy with my body right now, the girls are thankfully still in the upright and locked position. I already have full lips that are big but not too big....

So what would I do? What would I change?

My nose. It would have to be my nose.

You see, I am a bit paranoid about my nose, and people think I am cRaZy. It's one of those little button noses you see on Barbie Dolls. I think you can kind of tell if you click my pic to go to the profile and view full size. There are no lumps or bumps. It's very petite.

So why would I want to change my nose? It's all my Dad's fault. When I was a little girl and it was raining he always used to say, "Don't go outside or you'll drown!"

I've always hated my nose, even though the more sensible side of me tells me that is like the skinny chick saying "I'm soooooooooooooo fat."

So of course saying my nose was met with groans and boos from the crowd. It really makes you think though, about what affect parents have on their little kid's vision of theirself.

My Dad was just kidding me, and he has made me paranoid about my nose for the rest of my life. Paranoid about a nose that I know most people with more "distinct" noses would kill for.....

Thank God that's all I had to deal with, eh? I can't imagine being one of those kids whose parents tell them they are fat or stupid.

A Return to Normalcy

So the construction inside my house is COMPLETE. Done. Finished. All my stuff is back to in place, no more paint fumes, dust, and dirt everywhere.

There is a God.

I did my living room in beeeeeeautiful Ralph Lauren paint, which let me tell you, is the BEST I have ever used. It's a rich red color and I love love love it. Here's a pic of the almost completed room:



I hadn't hung all my stuff back up or put furniture back in it's proper place all the way yet, but you get the idea. I love my Home/Where your story begins on the wall. It's absolutely stunning. Kudos to this new company for that. I'm an independent demonstrator for this relatively new company, which means discount! Score!

But the new real love of my life is the new deck:



This picture only shows half of it, as it was raining and I took it from under the Gazebo. With benches instead of railings, this deck is perfect for entertaining. Plenty of seating, the deck shall be christened next weekend.

My friend C made the benches incredibly comfortable. They have a slight recline that only those of us who are rather well endowed can truly appreciate. I was afraid that they would be not very cozy, but once I throw a couple of cushions on them they will be as comfy as my beeeeautiful wicker furniture.

I heart my new wicker furniture, and I heart it even more since I got it @ 60% off!

Now I just have to deal with the mud pit that is the rest of my backyard now and a dog recovering from surgery. Yes, the Nitro went in and got fixed. He's not to happy right now.

Then hopefully I will have a full return to normalcy. Well, at least what normalcy is in my world.

So

This weekend was the big party, and fate lent me a little hand in keeping everything in line and trouble free.

TMM had to catch a plane for Texas Sunday, so there were no worries about the meeting of the opposites.

Everything went really, really well, and a great time was had by all. Most of the construction was done thankfully, but it was a down to the wire type deal and unfortunately not everything was back in place, but pretty damn close.

My 74 pound puppy decided to help with the construction and decided "help" take wallpaper down which resulted in this nice little hole:



Note to self: do not tear anything down in this house with the dog watching.

Now I just need to sleep for a couple of days and all will be right with the world.

Hall of Fame

If For Fuck's Sake had a posting hall of fame, this post would certainly be at the top for consideration.

Now I know I haven't been posting regularily, I don't have near the readers that i used to have, and life has really kicked me square in the ass for most of 2006, but I still manage to get a ton of hits from the Evile search engine Google.

Why in the world people are searching so much for how many carbs are in cough drops is beyond me. I mean, we are not talking like one or two a day, but like 20-30 people a day looking for that magic number.

The fact that Halls was advertising it was low carb freaked my shit out then, and it still freaks my shit out now.

The Making of a Disaster

So a couple of months ago I was sitting in a movie theater getting ready to watch a movie. The lights started to dim, and the now mandatory commercials came on before my beloved previews.

Then it happened. The preview for "World Trade Center" came on.

I kind of looked around the theater now lit with horrible images that are already engrained in most of our minds. Most people had a look of horror or disgust on their face.

Then the booing started. It got to be so thunderous that you could not hear Nick Cage saying any of his little catch phrases.

I'm really curious to see how this one is going to do. I'm curious to see if it is just this midwestern town that found this movie in totally bad taste or if the rest of America is going to agree.

Forces of Nature

So I have this friend, and she's a real force of nature.

I also have this sometimes boyfriend, who is also a force of nature.

I know, I know. I'm supposed to stay away from The Mystery Man. It has become increasingly hard to do that since he has moved a mere 4 1/2 hours away, to Northern Kentucky, right outside of Cincinnati. Maybe I should hook him up with Kate the Great. Then again, maybe I shouldn't. I know she wants the whole marriage/kids thing, and he would run away screaming his fool head off at the first mention of marriage.

Which is also why we are a good fit. I am not really into that whole be-with-the-same-person-all-of-your-life thing either.

Anyway, back to my dilemma. TMM has not met all of my friends, considering out of the 6 years of back and forth dating he has only lived in the same area as me for about a year. I've been selective about who he has met, and who he hasn't.

My friend M is one that I have selectively chosen to not meet him.

M has one of the best hearts I have ever known. She would do anything in the world for you. Kind, caring, generous, she's a great person.

She is also very obnoxious. Like REAL obnoxious, especially if she has a few cocktails. An only child with all the trappings that are generally associated with only children, she can be a bit much for someone who does not already know she is this kind, caring, generous person.

In all honesty, when I first met her I couldn't stand her, but her hubby is a great friend of mine, so I put up with her. Over time, I came to know the "real" her, and not the "public" her.

You see, when there is a party or gathering of friends, M has a totally different side to her, and it can be rather annoying. Attention is her drug of choice, and she will do whatever it takes to get it.

Say someone does a shot of tequila. She's say, "OH YEAH? Watch this!" and drink a whole glass full of tequila. No matter what topic of conversation there is she will turn it into something about her.

Now mind you this kind of junk only goes on when there are more then 4 people around. Normally she is fine.

The Mystery Man will clash with her, and clash bad.

About a month ago he spent the weekend here, and I toyed with the idea of getting the two of them together. Then M called me and said, "I need to check this guy out, put him through his paces, see if he's good enough for you."

Rut Ro

This made me immediately change my mind. I wanted to have fun this weekend, not a screaming match. You see, if people say smart ass comments back to her rather obnoxious behavior, she gets pissed, especially if alcohol is involved.

And you see, The Mystery Man is the KING of smart ass comments, which is one of the reasons why I puffy heart him so much.

Well all of this is coming to a head, dear readers, because in a week and a half I am hosting a Luau for my niece's 20th birthday.

Thy Mystery Man wants to come. M will definitely be there.

I repeat, Rut Ro.

So I've tried warning him about this potentially explosive situation. TMM would never be mean, but he sure as hell would call someone out if they are acting inappropriately.

Which would cause M to really, really hate him. Which would cause me to hear endless conversations about why she really, really hates him.

At first I thought it was maybe just me being a bit paranoid, until the first words out of my best friend R, who knows TMM, said, "How the hell are you going to keep M in line during a whole party?"

Rut Ro

So we've debated the situation between ourselves. Should we try to talk to her? I think that might make it worse, or worse yet, hurt her feelings, since she really doesn't believe she acts this way.

Should we talk to her long suffering husband, who knows how she is, has been embarrassed to many times to mention by her, but deals with it cuz he loves her?

Should I tell TMM that it is cancelled even though it's not cuz he lives so far away he'd never know?

We quickly ruled that option out, as I cannot lie to save my life and would so be busted.

The option of talking to her was ruled out because the last time someone tried to do that she actually cried. It hurt her feelings so bad that she was devastated. Not enough to stop the behavior, but if I made her cry I'd feel like total pond scum.

Talking to her hubby option probably won't work because while he will sympathize with my situation, he probably won't be able to do anything to remedy the problem. If he hasn't been able to remedy this problem in 13 years, I'm sure he won't be able to now.

So we came up with another option. If TMM doesn't roll with the punches, he is not having sex that weekend.

Ok, back the fuck up. Now this is punishing ME, and that is just not going to fly.

So I am out of options.

I am fucked.

If anyone out there has an option I have not thought of, please let me know. Now I know I have a certain control over TMM, one that only a woman who knows exactly what he likes can have, and I'm sure I can keep him towing the line.

But I will hear about it afterwards. Either from him or her, I will hear about it.

This sucks.

Baxter the Wonder Dog

So Baxter was my first experience with having a really, really large dog. I had lived with two dogs in my lifetime at that point, Samantha (named after BeWitched), a terrier mix that was somewhere around 20 pounds and Sasha, the anti-christ 4 pound Yorkshire Terrier. He was a gift from my manager at my job, and needless to say my parents were! not! happy! about it one bit.

He looked just like the dog from "Please Don't Eat the Daisies" (showing my age people). Baxter was an adorable puppy, and none of us were prepared for just how big he was going to get.

Thankfully my parents ran their own business and had a huge fenced in backyard. As Baxter grew he did not like to be in the house at all, and would cry every time he came in. The only time he did come in and was satisfied was when I slept. He would sleep in my doorway, never with me. We weren't used to dogs that didn't like to just sit in our laps and be cuddled, so this was a totally new experience.

He could also be out of the fence, and would walk the perimeter of their business as if guarding it. Considering we lived on a major four lane highway, this was amazing. Baxter knew what his property was, and he was their to protect it.

Problems started to arise when he was around a year old. I had moved out, but I would bring Baxter to my parents backyard while I was at work. Their Garden Center parking lot was right next to the fence. Baxter was fine as the customers came in and out, but he would hang on the fence looking so damn cute that people would want to pet him.

They always ignored the "DON'T PET THE DOG" signs or the "BEWARE OF DOG" signs, because he just looked so friendly. Well, as soon as that hand went over that fence, they entered Baxter's territory. This was not good people. Many a person almost lost their hand by doing that.

So Baxter was becoming more and more of a pain in the ass. He meant well, really he did. I have never in my life seen a dog more protective of his land or his family.

This didn't satisfy my parents who were scared to death that despite the signs they were going to get sued or someone was going to seriously get hurt.

So an extension was put on the fence on the parking lot side, paid for by yours truly (damn tough love parents), and the problem was solved. My bank account took a spanking, but my dog was allowed back in the fence.

Then the day came that made me a true believer in big dogs for the rest of my life.

I had painted my apartment and was staying with the parental units for a weekend while the fumes cleared out. It was hot outside, so staying there with windows open would be torture. Some friends and I painted all day late into the night.

I drove my tired ass to my parents house to get a shower and some beautiful air conditioning. Baxter had stayed their the whole time, because painting would not! be! fun! with a 150 pound sheepdog in the mix.

I pulled into the dark parking lot and got out of my car. Now one thing you learn when you live on a major highway that stretches coast to coast is their are some really weird fucking people that travel at night.

Well one of these weird fucking people came out of no where and grabbed my arm.

"What are you doing here girly-girl?"

I can still hear that phrase in my nightmares every once in awhile.

Now I've always thought I was a tough chick that could take care of myself, but I learned that night that when a man that out weighs you by probably 60 pounds wants to drag you somewhere, he is probably going to be able to do it. I also learned that the mace on my keychain was pretty much useless when he had my arms bound to my side by his shear force.

He pulled me towards him and wrapped his hand around my mouth. I fought against him with all my might, but it was furtile. He was just to strong.

He was dragging me to the back of the garden center when I heard it. This low, rumbling growl. Baxter had went to the side of the fence that didn't have an extension, jumped it, jumped into my neighbors yard, jumped that fence, and then ran down the street to get back to our parking lot.

I had never seen dog attack a person before. Baxter clamped on to the guy's thigh and he let me go, trying to get the dog off of him. I ran like hell to my parents house screaming my head off, my parents woke up, police were called, and the man, about half dead from what my dog continued to do to him until the police showed up, was arrested and taken to the hospital.

My cute, beautiful sheepdog was now red instead of white, and treated like a king amoung kings after that incident. It still makes me want to throw up thinking about what might have happened if he wasn't there. It ended up the man was wanted for rape in a couple of states and a possible homicide.

Baxter was only 2 years old when he disappeared. You see, after this incident he learned he could "be free" by jumping the fences. Now if we let him out of the fence he would walk the perimeter of our property and never, ever leave it. But once he was outside of that area, he was just gone.

So a couple of times we caught him coming back home. A couple of times the police called us from a couple of miles away to please come get him. Everyone knew Baxter as he was a bit of a local hero, but the cops also saw what he did to that horrible man and were scared to death of him. They would patiently follow him with their car until we went and got him.

The fencing people were coming to put an extension on that side of the fence the day that Baxter didn't come home.

Frantic searches to shelters and the police being on alert for him turned up nothing. It was like he disappeared into thin air. About the only thing we can think of is someone opened up their car door and he got in. Once he was away from his property he was fine with people, and he loved going in the car.

I like to think that a nice family took him home and he lived out his life on some big farm running and playing. I don't believe I could stay sane if I didn't hold on to that little fantasy.

He really taught me that love comes in all different forms. While he didn't sleep with me or sit by me all the time or want to be cuddled, that dog loved me to no end. That dog saved me from what could have been a life ruining experience, or really possibly a life ending experience.

Which is why I now love big dogs. Now I know not all big dogs are as smart/protective as Baxter was, but I do know this. Mace wasn't going to help me. A gun wouldn't have helped me.

But that big dog saved my life, and I will love him and be grateful until the day I die.

My Dog, the Graduate

So lil (or not so little) Nitro has graduated from puppy kindergarten.



Unfortunately the pic of him with his little hat on turned out real blurry as he felt he Must! Eat! The! Tassel! once we put it on him.

Damn dog.

He's going to another class soon that isn't in the middle of some cheesy pet store chain floor. He's going to "big dog school", a school where they teach the working dogs like police and search and rescue dogs. I want him to go through as much training as possible, because he very well could end up weighing more then I do.

The "big dog school" wouldn't take him before because he was to young, so I enrolled him in the cheesy chain store school just to get him some basics so I could control a puppy that at five months is prolly around 70 pounds.

Many people have asked me why the hell I didn't just get a little dog and be done with it.

I have an unfair and unnatural prejudice against any dog that can get it's ass kicked by a hamster.

When the dog I grew up with died my Mother promptly went out and bought a teacup Yorkshire Terrier From Hell.

Her name was Sasha. I still hate that name. This dog gave new meaning to the word bitch. Granted at first I hated this dog because I felt like they replaced a member of my family with a damn dog that was only 6 ounces when she came home. She wasn't big enough to go down the stairs until she was around a year old, and even then I think she weighed in at a whopping 4 pounds.

It didn't take long for her to give me a real reason not to like her. She was 4 pounds, but had the attitude of a 100 pound dog. My GOD this dog was unreal. Say you accidently kicked her, which was real easy considering she was always under foot and so small.

She would go find YOUR shoes and poop in them. Just a total nightmare. High pitched barking, would jump up on you and scratch, and always wanted to be in your lap.

If for some odd reason you didn't want this anti-christ in your lap she would growl at and/or bite you.

God I fucking hate small dogs....So ok I know they aren't all bad and some are well behaved. A friend of mine has a Shitzu that is cool as hell. I think the problem is most people get a small dog and they think, "It's a small dog, it can't do damage. It doesn't need trained."

Bullshit. All dogs should be trained. Add the fact that people for some reason think it is fun to dress these little monsters up and you just have an untolerable situation. I mean really, God wouldn't have gave them fucking fur if he wanted them to wear clothes.

My great love of big dogs started around the age of 18, when I got my first big dog, a 150 pound Old English Sheepdog named Baxter.

We'll save that for tomorrow......

Under Construction

So I'm living in a construction zone right now. No, the greedy ass town has not forced me to sell my house yet, but I made a decision.

If these people do come in here and do make me sell my house, they are gonna pay for it, and pay dearly.

So I called up my friend C who does random construction when he needs money and still lives in his parent's basement.

He's 33 by the way. 33 and hott with 2 t's. 33 and would probably be the most fuckable person I know except for the fact that he's permanently stuck in that stage most people go through when they are around the age of 18.

Such a waste. Anyway, so I call up C and tell him I need some work done. Major work.

He fixed my door and put a nice new deck in for me a couple of months ago, but I'm going to be expanding on it. Part of it is going to be screened in with this cute Gazebo type thing I found at Costco. Oh how I heart Costco.

Then I'm getting hardwood floors in a majority of my house, new wood trim, new landscaping, a small pond, painting every room, a couple of dangerously leaning trees cut down, new window treatments, and a wall knocked down to make two small bedrooms one big bedroom.

There goes my savings account.

But I made a decision. If or when these bastards ever decide they are going to buy me out of my house, they are going to pay for it. That, and I haven't done much work to my house because I always considered it more of a starter type home for me. I was planning on moving this year, but since the rich people are invading my neighborhood I decided to wait it out.

So I'm getting everything new, everything the way I would have wanted it in my new home I was planning on purchasing. So right now my house smells like paint fumes, I have no floor in part of it, and I'm trying to keep this guy



from causing more destruction. I mean, more destruction then he already causes like eating my cell phone, kitchen table, random shoes (shoes! for the love of GOD! not the shoes!), the wood trim in my bedroom (hence the replacement), and the passenger's side seat in my SUV. Having a puppy that is 5 months old and oh I'd say around 65-70 pounds is so! not! fun!


So things are crazy around the kayjay household right now, but at least I'll have some good eye candy. Think of an Italian version of Matthew McConaughey. Think of a 6'5 Italian version of Matthew McConaughey.

Nice, eh?

Run for Your Life!

It's the seventh sign!!!  Earthquakes will consume the earth.  Tidal waves, tornadoes, chaos, and the apocalypse in general are all about to happen.

Why am I so sure of all this doom and gloom? The media has actually reported a Toyota recall.

Update-sort of

So I could apologize for not writing, but the truth of the matter is I have been writing quite a bit.

Just not here.

I've been working a lot on my other writing, you know the kind I hope might get turned into a movie one day. I suppose all my creative juices have been flowing in that direction, so I've been a bit tapped when I go to do a blog post.

So my blog has been neglected, but not forgotten. Those damn Baby Boomers won't let me. You see, even though a lot of you bloggers have probably given up on me (and I don't blame you), the search engines live on.

My 50 is the new 30 post gets at least 40 search hits a day. They inevitably go back to those February '05 archives and read my delusional boomer post and my rants on the echo bastards.

Then they email me. Quite a bit, actually. I am pretty sure that I put not ALL boomers are like that, that not all echo boomers are bastards, and that not all Gen Xer's got fucked. But quite a few people take these posts rather close to heart, like I wrote it about them personally.

Which I think is some funny shit, let me tell you. Thou protest to much.

Another big one from the search engine camp is the E Harmony posts in the December archives. Thank god they haven't found the one about them hating fat people.

I've been emailed quite a few times about how E Harmony is for people serious about finding relationships and that I shouldn't treat it like a game or laugh at it.

Don't worry people, when my birthday present ran it's course I didn't re-sign up. But I still think it's funny. Sue me.

Oh, and I've been dealing with a puppy that now weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 60-70 pounds at 4 1/2 months old, which is so not fun.



So far he has ate a $200 cell phone, dug a hole in my bedroom carpet, went through the screen in my brand new storm door, and ate the corner off my coffee table. He is big enough to reach all counters and tables in my house, and my beautiful wall length window in my kitchen can no longer be open because he thinks it's an escape hatch.

He also follows me everywhere I go, sleeps on the end of my bed, and patiently wakes me up in the morning by staring at me like I am the most bestest person in the whole entire world.

Somehow this makes up for all the destruction. He isn't a bad dog, just misunderstood is what my niece says. Now he does have his good qualities, as he has excelled in potty training (THANK GOD), and passed beginning puppy training with flying colors.

He was like the valedictorian of his class, if they had one. Nitro will sit, lay down, shake, roll over, stay (sometimes), leave it, take it, and drop in on command. Not to shabby for a 4 1/2 month old. Now if he would just stop chewing and/or running through things we'd have it made.

I still totally adore him though, in spite of it all. He's a big mamma's boy, big baby. He's afraid of birds and when his little 20 pound beagle pal gets mad. It doesn't hurt that he's just too cute for words.

So that's what I've been up to. Writing and damage control. I can't promise that I'm going to be blogging on a regular basis, but I really have no intention of closing up shop. I will be checking in occasionally, and really do plan on blogging regularly once I have my current script completed.

Stay tuned....

Charmed I'm Sure

So now that I have TiVo I can catch up on all those pop culture-ie things I have missed out on while being a night shift type traveling person for the last 8 years.

I will full well admit with just a hint of embarrassment that one of my guilty pleasures is the show "Charmed".

Now I have only randomly watched Charmed over the what, 8 or so years that it was on. After that brought in their kid Chris from the future I didn't really watch it anymore. It wasn't so much because the show jumped the shark, but because it was just missing something, or someone....

That would be Cole. The world's perfect man.

But never fear, because Cole lives on in the land of re-runs on TNT.

So yesterday my TiVo picked up those first episodes that had Cole in them. When he meets Phoebe, and he is just oh so bad.

I vaguely remember them making him good and getting rid of his demon side. He was a mere mortal, and was a total freakin' wuss.

Cole was at his best when he was still a demon, but trying to be good because he loved Phoebe. He didn't really do bad things, but every once in awhile he'd get that flicker of bad in his eye.

I loved me some Cole then. I loved me some Charmed then. Not so much after Cole got all good then went bye-bye.

This is probably really telling. Perhaps I should stay single forever, eh?

Gimmicks Galore!

So I've been getting these little emails from reunion.com.

"You've received 230 views to your profile this year! Could it be an old high school buddy? A long-lost love? A family member you may have lost touch with over the years? Find out now!"

Find out now is a link that takes you directly to a page asking for your credit card to become a paying member of the site.

I can't help but wonder how many adults there are out there that fall for this shit. How many adults really care who the hell is looking for them from high school.

I could care less. It isn't even tempting for me. While talking to one of my friends that is also on the site she informed me that only 26 people have viewed her profile.

It's a bitch being popular, let me tell ya.

Well, I wasn't exactly popular, not in the traditional sense anyway. I wasn't the homecoming queen, I wasn't the smartest, and I wasn't the worst.

But all those people were my friends. More like aquaintances. A lot of that had to do with the fact that my brother who was a senior when I was a freshman was the "it" guy-you know, the local version of a boy bander. The one that all the girls in school swoon over.

Gross.

So instead of being Jeanie from Ferris Bueller's Day off I rode the wave and was popular right along with him. I had a great time in high school, but I still wouldn't go back there for all the money in the world.

Well, maybe for all the money in the world, but definitely not for like $100,000 or sumfin.

So where was I? Oh yeah, reunion.com. I can't help but think the people that fall for that gimmicky shit are people that would go back to high school for free. Those people that still yearn to be accepted and popular. Those people that are secretly praying my brother is single and will fall madly in love with them from across a crowded room and wonder why the hell he never noticed them in high school.

Now I'll admit I had an "it" guy in high school, and unfortunately he was my "friend". In my mid twenties I had a Romy and Michele moment with him, as he had turned into a fat landscaper with bad hair and a bit of a drinking problem. There are no wild high school fantasies going on in my head, let me tell you. He totally ruined it.

So the question is, would you want to know who was clicking on your profile, or are you like me and could care less about people from so long ago?

Here Comes the Neighborhood

So we've all heard the expression "There goes the Neighborhood", but in my situation it is the exact opposite.

My neighborhood is being invaded by rich people.

I moved to this quiet little lake town when I decided I needed to buy a house because of the ginormous amount of taxes I pay as a single person with no kids that worked lots of overtime.

It is a quirky little town on the outskirts of Chicago, one that has lots of different classes of people. One side of the lake is really, really rich people. The other side, where I live, is more middle class. Surrounding the rich and middle class are small little houses that used to be weekend homes for the Chicago folk that have now turned into permanent residences. These tend to be the people from the "wrong side of the tracks".

So this little sleepy town has started getting a major makeover since the Supreme Court decided that a town can just take your fucking house whenever they damn well want to, whether it is for a road or to promote economic growth.

Almost to the day that this decision was passed down by our highest court in the land the bulldozers moved in. Two blocks from my house they are building condos that start at $400,000. Considering the most expensive house in my subdivision goes for around $160,000, this is a big increase.

It makes me wonder what is to come. If this decision is going to one day force me to sell my house to make room for the rich people that want to live near a big lake. Down the street the developers have acquired a piece of property and the rumor mill has said the condos going in there will start at a million dollars.

Originally I moved here because property taxes were reasonable, crime was at a minimum, and it really was such a diverse mix of individuals. Great location, reasonable priced housing, and a beautiful lake.

What more could you want? My yellow lab and I spent many a night on the public pier watching the lake at sunset. We met so many interesting people, from all walks of life.

Yet I have a feeling all of this is going to change now. The affordable housing will be gone. Taxes are going to go through the roof, causing the more modest income families to sell their homes.

Now maybe I am just paranoid. Maybe that development was really in the works for a long time and it was just a coincidence that once that decision was passed down my town started to get bulldozed to the ground.

But some how I doubt it. This town has not had the development because of those "wrong side of the tracks" people. It is just funny how two months after that passed things started to change around here, and changed rapidly.

It makes me wonder if one day I will have to sell my house because some millionaire likes the location and wants to build a bigger house on my land. The court's decision was for an office building, but I am betting greedy developers will use the whole economic growth scenario to take desirable areas from normal people to build for the rich.

Maybe I'm taking a big leap to make that connection, maybe I'm paranoid, or maybe I have just lost faith in the ability for our government to distinguish between right and wrong.

Time will tell, and oh how I hope I am wrong. Otherwise all us middle class and poor folk are going to end up living next to garbage dumps.

Nitro Comes Home

My little guy has joined my little fur family



Everyone altogether now...

Awwwwwwwww!

Eharmony Hates Fat People

Well maybe they don't hate them, but they figure other people do.

Let me explain this, k?

Back in December I told you about my worst birthday present ever, a 3 month subscription to Eharmony. Not only was it the worst birthday present ever, but the biggest waste of money ever.

Now keep in mind that I pretty much thought of this whole thing as a joke. I really had no intention of meeting someone from an online dating community, not that there is anything wrong with that. After reading a few of my potential men I figured this place knew nothing about what I wanted.

Practically every match I got was a yuppie from downtown Chi town. They all have the same three pics. The one of them skiing. The one of them walking on the beach next to Lake Michigan. Oh, and my most favorite one? The one of them in spandex riding their bike or running.

Let me make this clear, mmmkay? I would never date a man that wears spandex. Maybe that is small minded of me, but hey, a girl has to have her limits.

The other thing I have noticed is a disturbing trend in the can't have/must have section. You get a bunch of canned answers to chose from. Like must have an active person. Can't stand a person who's happiness depends on me. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Every single person I was matched with had Can't Stand Overweight People.

To be honest, this kind of offends me, in a split personality kind of way. I know it doesn't mean that they really can't stand overweight people, just that they don't want to date them.

Which seems really small minded to me, especially since I am a former tank ass.

Now the other side of my personality says, "Hey, people can't help what they are attracted to. They are just looking for someone that fits physically and emotionally."

Yeah fucking right.

So I decided that maybe I would change my can't stand/must haves after my latest match. Of course he had the pre-requisite no fat people one, and a bunch about how he must have someone who is sexually experienced. Oh, and must have someone who really really likes sex.

Now looking at this guy, he is no one I would be attracted to. He is tall which is a plus, but skinny as hell. His prerequisite beach picture also had one of those little Paris Hilton annoying as fuck dogs in it.

I am not a little dog person. But hey, I have an open mind, right?

Anyway I decide that if these fucking arrogant men that only want a skinny chick can put that, I'm gonna change mine to reflect that I don't want some bone skinny guy.

Guess what? There is no choice for that. Appearance wise you can chose fat. That's it.

So why they hell can't I pick that I don't want someone skinny if they can pick they don't want someone that is fat? Now I'm usually not one of those fatcentric type people but this really seems like a double standard. You can't even write it in.

Oh well, thanks for the memories Eharmony. My "gift" is about to run out, and if my friend extends it he is in a world of hurt.

To Hell with Shamrock Shakes

So I had my very own Supersize moment this weekend.

You see, growing up my dear, sweet Mother would not allow us to eat fast food. In fact, if we ever went out to eat it was a special occasion indeed. But fast food, never.

Yes my Mother was a bit of a health food junkie in a kind of cute, hippy kind of way. She did allow certain things in the house, but fast food was OFF LIMITS, except for one time of year.

Shamrock Shake time at McDondald's.

For whatever reason, and I'll take a stab at it and say because she's Irish, we were allowed to have a Shamrock Shake once a year. If she was in a really good mood we might even get to have Mikey D's fries.

Oh they were just heaven. Yes, I had fast food when I went with my friend's parents, which of course my Mom wouldn't know about, but this was our special treat every year.

Fast forward to when I turned 16 and could drive. My chubby ass went to fast food places whenever I could. I worked and went to high school, and a lot of kids went to Burger King after school. My work schedule gave me about a half hour to kill after school, and my expanding tank ass could be found there most of the time.

So when I had to lose weight in my late teens/early twenties I swore off fast food. I swear I can track when I really started ballooning up in weight to the day I could drive. Sure, some of that could be because I walked and rode my bike before that, but a huge portion of that was my freedom of food choices.

Over the years except for the occasional drunken White Castle drive thru I have stayed away from fast food. No more of that for me.

The one time of year that I do is what? You guessed it, Shamrock Shake time.

Even then all I get is the Shamrock Shake. One time deal.

So I remembered Friday that I hadn't had my Shamrock Shake yet. I was running late to work, hadn't prepared very well, and was starving.

I know I used to love those Whoppers, and I proceeded to try and order one. "You are at McDonald's, that's Burger King," the voice boomed from the drive thru microphone.

Whoops. Hell they have all these numbers and junk where you can order value meals. I ordered a #2, Quarter pounder/w cheese, fries, and my Shamrock Shake.

It was almost like a heroine addict getting a fix after many years of being off the wagon. I drove to work savoring every bite of that quarter pounder, scarfing french fries and drinking that delicious Shamrock Shake.

It wasn't until about an hour later that I realized that was a BIG mistake. It felt like the pits of hell had took up residence in my stomach. I won't go into details, but I'm assuming that what happened next is a lot like what those Gastric Bypass people refer to as "dumping", and it was happening from every orifice of my body, or so it seemed. Sorry for the TMI.

It was so not pretty. I can't ever remember being so sick. Needless to say I wasn't very value added at work that night.

So it really got me thinking. I remember when I saw Super Size Me with a friend she talked about the scene where he is throwing up in the parking lot. She kept saying that had to be staged, that no one would have a violent reaction like that.

Like hell I say. I kind of thought that too, that it was something put in there for dramatic effect. But maybe, just maybe we are all so used to eating that crap that our bodies are just used to accepting it.

Kind makes you wonder what it is doing to our insides if it causes a reaction that strong, eh?

Good Old Fashioned Liberal Guilt

So my puppy Nitro is coming home in two weeks. Here he is again:



I repeat, isn't he the cutest thing ever? Anyway, even though he is not in my house yet, he has already caused me grief.

Well, not directly, so it's not exactly his fault...

You see, the arrival of these two:


(I finally found a way to tell them apart in pictures)

has caused me to spend way to much time with my brother's in-laws. Oh, the 'rents are ok. Hard-working typical Midwestern people. It's their two daughters.....

My brother's sisters'-in-law have never really worked a day in their life, and don't ever plan on it either. My brother's wife is the youngest, so these women are both in their early 40's.

Their Mom, who is in her mid 60's, just got a part-time job because one of them needed a car, and she signed for it. They promptly stopped paying the payments, hence sticking their Mother with the bill.

I would scrub toilets before my Mother would have to get a job at that age. Anyway...

Did I mention that husbands of these two sisters aren't a whole lot better? They randomly work until they can collect unemployment again. Oh, and God forbid they make too much money and can't get their food stamps anymore.

These are people that definitely prove "the system" doesn't work. They know exactly how to exploit it, and have ever since their teenage asses got pregnant.

So even though they have never really had a job, don't plan on getting a job, and have done nothing to better their situation, they just LOVE making comments about me.

You see, I'm rich. Well, not really, but in their eyes I am rich. Yes, I make a comfortable living. I get union pay and have a side business that does rather well. I probably make more then the average American, have a nice house, nice car, nice stuff...

But I work my ass off for every penny I have. Nothing in my life has been handed to me. I worked my way through college. I payed for it myself, with the exception of scholarships I received for my grade point average, which wasn't much, because I made too much money.

So since they leech off the government and have been delt such a bad hand in life they feel the need to make comments on any purchase I make. Why do I need a house as big as mine (which isn't big, just in a nice area). Why do I need a car and an SUV (try driving in the Chicago winter on the expressway and tell me you wouldn't have one if you had the money)?

Don't I know there are people in America that don't have anything?

Why yes, yes I do. I really do have great empathy for those who are not able to improve their situation, and there are many charities I donate to help these people. I know I'm very fortunate. Lord knows I wasn't born with a silver spoon, but I am lucky enough to have the mental and physical ability to make a good life for myself.

But I also believe if you are able to work you should go out and get a fucking job.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Nitro causing me grief. So I went downtown shopping, and one of my favorite stores, Coach, had the cutest ever dog collar and leash.

And I bought it.

My sis-in-law called me while I was driving home to see if I would bring my camera over to take some pics of the twins. They were going to send out It's a Girl! cards and needed a good photo. I made the huge mistake of saying what I had bought.

Now she didn't do it on purpose, but she said something to the affect of "Your dog is going to be better dressed then me!"

The welfare sisters were sitting there while she was talking to me, and I'm assuming they asked her what she meant by that when she got off the phone with me.

They had plenty to say when I got there about my new purchase. You know, things like "That's just ridiculous" or "You have that much money that you can buy things like that" or "If you have that much money you could always give me some" or "I can't even get my kid decent shoes and you are buying designer collars?"

So I'll admit for a minute I felt that good old fashioned liberal guilt. I mean really, what was I doing buying something like that for a dog.

Then I got over it real quick. I usually never really say anything back to them. It's considered to politically incorrect. Kinda like if someone is naturally skinny it is ok to make comments about their size, but if someone is fat you better not say a word.

It's been an emotional month. Not a real good time to fuck with me...

I just looked at her and said, "Well why don't you get a job so that your kid can have some decent fucking shoes?"

Shock and Awe people. You see, while the fuck's freely flow here, in real life I really don't ever say that word.

After a moment of rather uncomfortable silence the subject was changed and that was that. No going on and on about how much I make. No going on and on about how some of my purchases are frivolous.

I'm diggin' this being politically incorrect stuff. Yes, I bought my fucking dog a designer collar and leash and I don't even HAVE him yet. That is just one of the benefits of having a master that works hard.

He's so going to be stylin'. And I don't feel guilty about it at all.

While I'm at it...

So while I'm posting pics of poor, defenseless people that can't bitch about it I figured I'd post another one where the subject can't bitch about it.

That sentence made absolutely no sense, but oh the fuck well. :)

I'm still getting back into the swing of things after my month of pure hell, but I'm getting there. In the mean time, check this out.

Introducing Nitro @ 4 weeks old, my soon to be new baby:



He's just so damn cute!

And Now For Something Really Different

So usually I don't put pictures up on this blog of other people. Mostly because I know they wouldn't be all that happy about it. These two can't exactly complain yet, so here goes:



Both twins are home, happy, and healthy.

There is a God after all.

They came home the day after my Step-G's funeral, and I don't think my brother or sister-in-law have slept since.

I believe they are just now realizing what exactly they have gotten theirselves into......

It's great for me though. I go over there, play with the babies, and leave when they start crying in unision.

Being an Aunt is the best.

The End and The Beginning

My step-Grandma has finally lost her long battle with Alzheimer's.

Little twin Sarah is getting to come home from the hospital this weekend after a valiant battle for her life.

The circle of life continues.

After spending the last two weeks in one hospital or another, I need a time to gather my emotions and thoughts.

To quote Rich,

More Laters

How Cool is That?

My Dad was actually born in a barn. His Mom was out in the field picking cotton when she went into labor, and the barn was the closest indoor space.

He leaves doors open intentionally hoping that people will ask, "Were you born in a barn?" to which he gets to joyfully answer, "Why yes, yes I was."

The Things People Will Do

About a year ago I ran into an old friend at Target. She wasn't the world's best friend, that is for sure. Every woman I know has had one of these friends in their life - A great friend when they don't have a certain someone special in their life, a horrible friend when they do.

She was also a bit overweight. We were about the same size back then-past the whole chubby point but not quite on our way to using one of those motorized carts at Walmart. When the weight started to melt off me our friendship melted right along with it.

Half Italian and Half Mexican she had really good genetics going on in the face department. Beautiful skin tone with incredible cheek bones and green eyes, she had the face of a model. Her body didn't match, and she did everything to try and rectify that.

Everything except exercise and eat healthy, which is what I did. She tried every pill, diet, lose weight fast scam. It would work for awhile, but most humans cannot live like that.

I was really shocked when I ran into her. She was thin. Like Olsen twin thin. Her hair was thin, and she just looked sickly. The words "You look great!" came out of my mouth even though I was secretly scared that she was sick or had cancer. Her wonderful complexion was pale and her skin sagged on her face like she was in her late 40's.

"Thanks!" was all she offered. I figured if she was sick she just didn't feel like talking about it. We shared the awkward conversation that people have who were once friends but grew apart years and years before, and that was it.

My SIL has kept in contact with her over the years, and I told her I saw her. "She's really thin, isn't she?" my SIL asked. "Yes, yes she is," I said.

"You know she had Gastric Bypass, right?" my SIL asked.

Gastric bypass surgery? I thought you had to be over 100 pounds to even be approved for that. I thought there was a long screening process, and knowing her, she would never make it that long.

So the SIL goes into the story. She went to Mexico to get it. She even walked into the operating room and got on the operating table herself. How desperate do you have to be to do something like this?

I guess she tried gaining weight so that she would qualify here in the US. She had to lose like 80 pounds, and needed to get to a 100. Her doctor told her to just gain the weight. What the hell is that, FFS?

Then she found out that she had to do all these psychological tests before her insurance would approve her. This was no good. Her Mom had "connections" in Mexico and knew a really good doctor.

Her Mom is a post all in itself, as she did not like having a fat daughter at all.

So she went and got it done in substandard conditions in Mexico. By some miracle she made it through and didn't have to many complications.

She lost the weight rapidly along with her hair and her looks. I'm not kidding when I say it aged her at least 10 to 15 years.

Fast forward to a week ago. There she was, standing in line at the same Target.

Except that she was bigger. Not bigger in relation to how skinny she was before, but bigger in relation to how big she was before.

She had Gastric Bypass Surgery and 2 years later was bigger then before she had it.

We had our awkward old friends conversation. I was just in shock. Along with what probably most people think, I thought you had that, you can't really eat a lot anymore, and you are just skinny forever.

*Buzz* Wrong Answer.

I guess you can eventually stretch your stomach back out and gain the weight back.

So these are people that risk their lives, re-route their innards, and suffer all this pain inevitably still have to eat right and exercise. They lose their hair from vitamin deficiencies and have sagging skin.

I don't get it....I can see someone that is in danger and needs to lose weight rapidly to live. But someone that just wants to be thin?

Someone looking for the next magical pill, diet, solution?

That easy, quick fix? Easy and quick are not two words to describe this.

It is sad really. As a former overweight person I can understand to some degree, but as someone who just buckled down and did the work necessary to achieve it I can't imagine risking my own life for a more pleasing appearance.

Twins!

The twins arrived Tuesday, February 21st. Emma weighed in at 5 lbs 1 oz, and Sarah at 5 lbs. 8 oz.

Blogging might be at a stand still over here at FFS because poor Sarah has some medical problems. She drank some fluid which happens sometimes to the second twin delivered. The poor thing is having a hard time breathing and is on oxygen.

She is not out of the woods yet, but doing better today. Please keep little Sarah in your prayers/thoughts.

A Dog's Life

So I might be getting a dog again in about 6 weeks.

A friend's dog had puppies last Thursday, and now I am probably taking one of them.

My God, what am I thinking? I already have two cats. Just what I need, another animal.

But I love dogs. I mean, I really, really love dogs. I'm a dog person that just happens to have two cats.

It seems that all my animals I have had in my lifetime have picked me, including the cats.

I have had a dog since birth. My beloved yellow lab Ladybug was put to sleep a few years ago, and in a way cats are a lot easier for someone like me. Between working and commuting I'm gone a lot.

That evil voice in my head keeps telling me how Ladybug did just fine. Ladybug loved doggy-daycare. Ladybug lived better then most people's children.

It is actually a good idea for a single woman to have a big dog that will rip someone's head off if they break in the house, right? Yeah, that's another reason why I like having a dog.

That and dogs just love me. It can be the meanest, nastiest dog in the world, and it'll jump in my lap and lick me. I have that dog-and-small-children gene. They just instinctively trust me.

I mean, what's the big deal, it's only a dog, right? I always think of my very first dog Sam when people say that.

It's all my parental units fault. My Dad brought home my first dog when my mom was about 7 months pregnant with me. Sam, The Best! Dog! Ever!, was left for dead near the expressway, and my Dad came upon the small, freezing puppy on his way home from work.

She was a mixed terrier, white wired hair and fox from what my Dad could tell. He didn't have the heart to let the little puppy die, so he brought her home.

My Mother was not amused, pleased, or happy. My Father was given his orders to find a home for that damn dog ASAP.

Then I decided to make an early appearance into this world, and finding a home for the dog became the second priority. I was a preemie so I was in the hospital for an extra week, and during this time Sam managed to learn how to mind her manners and become potty trained.

Sam was here to stay. From that very first night I was home she slept under my crib. When I was old enough to move to a big girl bed she graduated from under the bed to sleeping right next to me.

Where ever I went the dog went. She walked me to the bus stop every morning, and was sitting there when I got off the bus in the afternoon. My Sister and Brother don't have such fond memories of Sam, as if they raised their voice to me all bets were off on their ankles were in big trouble.

She was my dog, for sure. When I was around 6 I was playing in my front yard and a Great Dane decided that I'd be a tasty little treat. Sam saved me. That 11 pound Terrier took down that 100 and some pound Great Dane like it was a rag doll. With the exception of a scar on my side, I came out unscathed. To this day my Mom says I would have died that day if it weren't for Sam.

So as I grew up Sam was there through all my changes, turmoils, problems, and happy days. She listened to my secrets and licked away my tears.

By the time I reached high school Sam wasn't as agile as she used to be. I'd have to help her up on the bed at night, and down in the morning. She patiently waited for me on the front porch instead of the bus stop now, but she was always there, watching for me to come home.

When I was a senior in high school Sam really began to slow down. Shortly after my 18th birthday we noticed a tumor growing on her side. We took her to the vet, who informed us that she had cancer. The most humane thing to do would be to put her to sleep. She wasn't in pain yet, so we could think about it for awhile.

We took Sam home and I was an absolute basket case. This was my dog!

So a couple of days later I come home from school and Sam is not on the porch. I run into the house screaming for my dog. My Mom, with her tear streaked face just hugs me and tells me that Sam is at the vet.

It seems that morning after I went to school Sam couldn't get up and began to whimper. My Mom had found her in the laundry room, and she was bleeding.

It was time.

My Mom took her to the vet, and the vet had agreed to wait to put her to sleep until I got home from school in case I wanted to say goodbye. I drove there in silent disbelief, as I was sure she'd be ok once I got there.

The vet warned me that she was heavily medicated and had lost a lot of blood. We went into the room and Sam layed there motionless, and I almost thought they had already put her to sleep and were humoring me.

I bent down and kissed her head and petted her for the last time. As tears rolled down my cheeks she opened her eyes and licked them away for the last time. Her little tail did a feeble wag, and the vet put her out of her misery as my Mom and I held her gingerly.

And she was gone. We burried her under her favorite tree. The next few weeks are a blur, and I'm quite sure I cried more tears in those two weeks then the rest of my life put together.

Only a dog? Sam was my best friend, my sister. She taught me about responsibility and unconditional love and loyalty. She taught me that you always protect your own, no matter what the cost to you.

Sam wasn't only a dog, Ladybug after her wasn't only a dog, and I'm sure this new puppy that will probably bound into my life won't be only a dog either.

They are family.

No Parking on the Dance Floor

So the lovely and talented Madonna had to have surgery for a hernia after her recent Grammy performance.

Getting old is a bitch, isn't it Madge or Edith or Gertrude or whatever the hell you are calling yourself now.

Madonna is one of the most annoying human beings on the planet. Now I didn't always feel this way. She first became famous when I was in 5th grade I think. Oh how I thought she was the shiznit.

I tied my hair up with rags. In junior high I saved and saved and bought some of those Madonna clothes from our local Merrygoround store. My Dad promptly threw them away the first time he saw me wear them.

I stayed with Madonna until around the whole infactuation with Marilyn Monroe thing. It was getting a bit much. Sure, it is good to change your image and she would look pretty ridiculous in ratted out hair and spandex now, but give me a freakin' break.

Actually, she would probably look less ridiculous in that then the damn leotard she wore at the Grammy's....

Now I still tolerated her to a point, but the whole cult Kabbalah thing and how she adopted Brittany Spears as her "little sister" (avoid and deny-that would be more like DAUGHTER) just pushed me over the edge.

Oh, and how she decided that we should all stop striving for material things.

*snort*

When she sells off all her houses and material things and gives them to charity, I'll think about it, ummmkay?

Have I ever told you how much I hate it when celebrities decide to tell me what is good for me or how I should act? I mean, Madonna has always been a media whore, but she full well admitted it back in the day. That's probably why I liked her so much. This new holier then though Madonna is just. too. much.

So even though it is just a bit Evile and wrong, I chuckled a bit when I read about her hernia after the Grammy performance.

Maybe if I tie a red string around my wrist and send the powers that be a bunch of money Karma won't come back and bite me in the ass for this one.

Suppressed V-Day Memories

So last night I snuck into my brother's house to drop off Valentine's for my two nieces and for A & B, the twins that should be making an appearance any day now.

A & B are stuck with those names I think, as that is what they are called on the ultrasound for now. Sarah and Emma shall be their real names, but I think I'm going to call them A & B forever.

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I broke into his house so that they would find their presents in the morning. On the table was a box all decorated up with hearts.

I don't know if you did this where you grew up, but we had a yearly contest on who could make the best Valentine's Day box. You went to school, and kids delivered their Valentines to your box. There was a small party, and you would open up all the cheesy Valentines and eat some pink cupcake that the room mother made.

I've always been competitive. Once in 2nd grade when we lost a softball game my hippie type Mother told me, "Well you are just playing to have fun, it's ok." I promptly corrected her and said, "NO I'm not, I'm playing to WIN."

I am my Father's child. Anyway, in 4th grade I decided I was going to win that damn competition. This was a stressful enough time for kids. I mean, you had to deliver these Valentines to other kids, and you had to make sure that you didn't give any embarrassing ones that said "Be Mine" or something like that to the cute boy.

But I had my mind set. I diligently worked on my Valentine's day box for a week. Snoopy was the theme, and I fashioned a shoebox into a Snoopy's dog house. I even got a small stuffed Snoopy dog and Woodstock, which I glued to the top. I cut out a little heart chain to go around the hugging Snoopy and Woodstock.

It was a fucking masterpiece I tell you. Brilliant. My Mom drove me to school that day as I was afraid it would get messed up on the bus.

I looked around at the other kid's boxes, assured of my win. It was in the bag.

Then she walked in. Her name was Sheri, and so help me God if I remembered her last name I would put it here so if she Googled herself she would find this entry.

Sheri's box was a jack-in-the-box. It was a working jack-in-the-box, made from scratch. You cranked the handle, and the little doll came out with his mouth open and you put the Valentine in there.

Fucking bitch. There is no way in hell she made that by herself. This was like 1980 or something, and back in the day the parental units made you make your own damn stuff.

There was no way she made that. No way in hell.

So Sheri got to be the Valentine's Day Princess. Sheri got the award.

Fucking Sheri. It still pisses me off to this day. I never even got a chance to beat her because the cheating bitch moved away after 4th grade.

My teacher gave me a dose of sugar to help the medicine go down though. As I got my runner-up prize, she told me, "I would have voted for yours because you made it yourself."

Take that fucking Sheri. The teacher liked mine the best.

God I need therapy....

Be Mine?

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I'm expecting my usual Valentine's Day Extravaganza tonight since I have to work.

I actually celebrated Valentine's Day this weekend with someone that might be special down the road. This is my first V-Day without The Mystery Man in a looooooong time.

I had quite forgotten just how hard they try when they haven't "gotten" you yet.

It's quite nice, actually. Maybe my Dad is right. I'm so sweet I've turned rotten.

I got an extra V-Day gift that I wasn't expecting. My counter went past 50,000! I didn't install it until I had my blog for about a year so it is way more then that, but it is nice to reach that point, even though I was a bad blogger and had to deal with personal junk for a couple of months.

So thank you for the unexpected V-Day gift, dear readers. I truly appreciate it!

Mushroom

So I've tried really hard to be a 'shroom and be in the dark and all of that, but I just can't take it anymore.

I don't like talking politics here. I don't like talking about the common new items that float around the blog-o-sphere.

But I've had it.

It just really, really pisses me off that the Evile American Media Empire isn't standing up for free speech, which they scream, kick and cry over any other time.

I wanted to see those damn cartoons. I wanted to see why a bunch of extremists were willing to condemn a whole damn country because of what one private paper printed. I wanted to see why people were dying over some ink and paper.

None of the major papers in America printed them. They said "describing" them was good enough because they were so offensive.

Off to the Internet I go, because the Evile American Media Empire can no longer block out what they think is not good for us.

Before you think I am some right-winged nut job condemning the liberal media, think again. I'm really someone smack dab in the middle of the political spectrum, kind of a Clintonite. Bill that is, not Hillary.

They were bad. To the average person who doesn't know a lot about Islam they may think what is the big deal, but if you know anything about Islam you can see how they could offend so many.

But to cause the violence that is happening over in the middle east? To demand the head of the cartoonist? To condemn a whole country?

That is just crazy, for sure, and the act of extremists, not an entire religion. Even though they are offensive, I still think the Evile American Media Empire should have printed them.

I've seen things far more offensive things against the Christian and Jewish religion printed up in those same papers. I guess if you don't have a small group of bomb wielding individuals in your religion it is ok to offend you.

This is definitely not the only problem I have with the Evile American Media Empire. They have been a pain in my ass ever since I started working for an American Automobile company 14 years ago.

You see, the Evile American Media Empire doesn't like big American Corporations. They hate them in fact, and will stop at nothing to destroy them.

Here's a small example of what I'm talking about. About 6 months ago F-O-R-D recalled 20,000 cars for a high mileage non safety issue. It was something to do with a rattle in the underbody after 100,000 miles. Nothing that could affect the safety of the passengers, but could get annoying if it happened.

It was all over CNN, the Chicago Tribune, The New York Times, the 10 o'clock news... Anywhere you turned that damn F-O-R-D was recalling cars again! Not only were they RECALLING 20,000 CARS, but it was because something was terribly wrong with the underbody!!!

The same day, SAME DAY, Toyota announced they were recalling a million cars for the possibility that the brakes might fail. A MILLION CARS BECAUSE THE BRAKES MIGHT FAIL. Now I knew this because there is this site that is available to automobile manufacturer's Intranet that reports on issues with different vehicle concerns.

That is the only reason why I knew it. Because guess what dear readers? There wasn't a fucking mention of it anywhere in the Evile American Media Empire.

Not a fucking peep.

I searched the Internet looking for anything pertaining to this. I searched high and low and the only time I found anything was on some blogs. Nothing on any of the Evile American Media Empire's sites.

NOTHING.

Now why they hate us is beyond me. Liberals cry for Unionization. Liberals cry for the rights of workers. Yet companies like Toyota only have one Unionized plant, and that's just because it's in California.

Basically the American companies do what the Evile American Media Empire wants a company to do. They are unionized. They pay their people good and offer them great benefits.

All Toyota does is pay people less, give them less benefits, and take their money straight back to Japan.

The Evile American Media Empire supports this for some reason. If you look at things like warranty on cars there really is no difference between Toyota and the American made cars. None. There is no big spike showing how much better the quality is from foreign manufacturers.

But it's all about perception. The Evile American Media Empire makes people believe that American made cars are inferior because that is what they want you to believe.

How this rant got totally off subject is beyond me. I suppose I do have major issues when it comes to the Evile American Media Empire, especially since they continually assault my future with their biased reporting. I guess I have a reason to be Really! Pissed! Off!

As my Grandma always said, there is always that silver lining in the cloud. With the advent of the Internet and how easily information can be passed from person to person, the Evile American Empire can no longer report what they think is good for us, like good little neo-Nazi liberals.

They can no longer control what information gets out to us, what we see, or influence us to their way of thinking. Well hell, maybe I am condemning the liberal media, and I'm not even a neo-Nazi Republican. Now that's saying something, eh?

All hail the blog-o-sphere.

Now and Then

About 10 years ago, before the Mothership got ran through the ringer by the PC police, things were handled a bit differently at work. Take a scenario like this:

You come into work, and your counter part on the other shift has totally messed things up, and just freakin' left it like that with no explanation. The conversation that would follow would have went something like this:

Employee #1: What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you enjoy having your head up your ass? You totally screwed me! Dickhead!

Employee #2: Oh sooooory if everyone can't be fucking perfect like you. We'd all looooooove to be that perfect, but you got a fucking patent on it or something.

Employee #1: Fuck you. You know you left me fucked up. God Damn couldn't you have at least emailed me what was going on?

Employee #2: Yeah, yeah, I suppose so. My kid was sick and I ran out of here. You playin' softball Sunday? I'll buy ya a beer.

Employee #1: Yep. A beer will help matters a little. Your kid ok?

So after yelling at each other everything would be settled over a frosty one. Aggression over, game over, back to work as usual.

Now once the PC Police get involved, things are much different. Yelling is a no-no that might get you fired. Even sounding perturbed might get you written up. Here is the same conversation, PC style:

Employee #1 (through gritted teeth): I had a really hard time starting up today.

Employee #2 (looking innocent): Really?

Employee #1: Yes, you left the system down and didn't tell anyone.

Employee #2: I didn't realize that.

Employee #1: Now there is no way in..... You couldn't have...... You..... *sighs* Could you please email me next time this happens?

Employee #2: If I realize it I will.

There is no beer on Sunday, because people are afraid to play softball now because you might utter a bad word when you are struck out and offend someone and since it is technically a company function you can still be disciplined for offending someone, even though you aren't at work.

There is no accountability for anything, so why would anyone admit when they fucked up? Even the bosses are afraid to say anything when you mess up, they just try and "coach" you. So forget trying to resolve any issues with someone that is the same level as you. They'll just deny, deny, deny.

You'll be burning that they won't admit it, they'll be burning that you pointed it out, and there is no resolution in site. It kind of sheds some light on the whole work-place violence phenom, now doesn't it?

I wonder how long it's been PC over at the Post Office?

From the Mailbag

So every once in awhile people use that "Email Me" link over on the side of my page. Besides my Stat Counter, it is my best judge as to when a post really resignates with people.

Sometimes it is people just wanting more clarification on a post I wrote, praise for my blog, or sympathy when I get a bad review.

Most of the people that send me email are not really blog reading type people, and they come here from search engines. I get a kick out of the fact that maybe I turned some virgins on to blogs.

Here are some of the top questions from my E-Mailbag for your viewing pleasure:

I took a look at your before and after picture and you look totally different. How long ago did you lose all that weight?

It was about 13 or so years ago. I started losing somewhere around 19 and finished at about 21.

Did you get Gastric Bypass?

You really wouldn't believe how many times I have got that question since I posted that damn fat picture. No, no and NO! I don't think the gastric bypass surgery we all know and love was even around back then. Trust me I could rant about that surgery forever, but I'll save that for it's own post. So after I tell them No, no and NO! they usually come back with:

Well then how did you lose all that weight?

I consumed less calories my body burned. This is really the only way a human being can lose weight. Forget Atkins, South Beach, Three Day hot dog diet, it is a scientific fact. Now some of those diets may help you consume less calories then your body burns, but that is still what you are doing.

Back in the day when I was losing weight I counted calories and ate whatever gave me the most bang for my calorie buck. A good 70% of the time I'll get this question next:

So what do you eat in a normal day?

My body burns on average around 2100 calories a day. This is high for a woman, and it isn't because I was blessed with a high metabolism. If I was I never would have been a tank ass. It is because I incorporated exercise into my life, and I really think that is the key to why I've kept it off all these years.

Now I haven't been perfect for 13 or so years. I've had times where I gained as much as 20 pounds back, but when the old pants got tight my ass got back on that treadmill real quick like.

The Circle of Soul Mates confuse me because you just use initials for their names.

This is totally to protect the innocent. You can get a brief description of each of them Here.

I just started reading your blog and need to catch up. What are some of your favorite posts?

Oh lord I have hundreds of posts here. If I had to pick some of my favorites they would have to be:

When my friends and I got arrested for TP'ing someone's house

The Lemon post

My critique of a wedding proposal

Some of my Father's words of wisdom

Why I can't get no satisfaction

Sweetest Day IS a real holiday

My ugly duckling to swan transformation

My recap of a Halloween party

My rant on Bratz Dolls

The Ghost of Boyfriend's past series

Why I am permanently banned from Bingo

The most touching Christmas present ever

Well there's some of them. I could probably go on but I'm (and probably you) are getting bored.

Thanks a hell of a lot for giving away the fat girl pose secret. I'll never get another Internet date again!

This was sent in from Nikki, who doesn't have a blog and always comments in my email. She first came to this blog while searching for scary bratz dolls and has read it ever since. I so wish she would start her own blog......