Challenged by The Doll

Ok, Jessie. I don't have a picture, but I'm going to try and get one next week. We're out of town this week. Anyway, here goes nothing. My next door neighbor, who we will call Ice Man because of his likeness to Val Kilmer in Top Gun, is a city cop. He sits in a lawn chair on Saturday mornings with his radar gun aimed at passing cars. I haven't seen him take off on foot yet, but you never know.

Grandma Bitchford and the Shower Door

Well, the Bitchfords are at the beach this week, and true to form, Grandma Bitchford has shown her ass...literally. The beach house has an awesome outdoor shower that is under the house. It's great because we don't track sand in the house, and the ocean breeze blows on you while you are showering. I digress. My sister and I were upstairs, and we heard a horrible thud. She looked at me and said, "Mom just went to the shower. I hope she didn't fall." I get up to go check on her. I run down the stairs, and I hear snorting laughter. I continue towards the shower, and I see Grandma Bitchford completely naked. Keep in mind that the wind is killer this week, so our towels and chairs have been flying away. Anyway, she's doubled over laughing and trying to hang on to her towel. The shower door had fallen off of the hinges! She said that she went to close it, and she put her towel up. She turned around, and the damn door fell off. So, I tried to help her with her towel and the door. I'm glad we didn't have to file a missing person's report. The phone call to the police would have gone something like this. "Yes. We've lost our mother, Grandma Bitchford. We last saw her wrapped in a bath towel heading towards the outdoor shower. The shower door is missing and so is Grandma Bitchford. Please be on the look out for a tanned, naked 65 year old holding onto a large wooden shower door." I'm sure there will be more chaos this week before it's over. Stay tuned.

Fuckin' With Telemarketers

A telemarketer just called and tried to sell me some carpet cleaning. My first response was that I didn't have carpet anywhere in my home or on my person. He didn't catch that. So, he asked if I had a moment for him to explain the packages available. I told him that I would listen to him talk about his packages if he would listen to me sing The Winner Takes It All by Abba. There was silence. I hung up. Why do these motherfuckers call you during dinner time and funk up your evening?

Theme Song

I've decided that Sukie and I spend so much time together that we need a theme song. Whenever we walk the halls of our offices with our flowing hair blowing out all around us, this song will be playing. When we are waiting at our bus stop looking ravishing in our work outfits and commuter footwear, this song will be be playing. When we are in meetings with Mr. Vomit and decide that we've had enough of his shit, this song will be playing as we exit. Watch out Eastwick! The Bitches are coming!

My Mothership

I have found my mothership, or as George Clinton would say, "my interplanetary funksmanship." It is in the form of a television show. The travel channel featured a segment called Deep Fried Paradise today. It was wonderful. My mouth watered as my new television showcased the glistening fried pickles and the decadent fried Twinkies. Then it happened. Something I have never seen before appeared on my screen, and I had to sit up in bed (yes, I was watching this in bed) to get a better look. Are you ready for this? It was chicken fried bacon. Genius! I've now spent the last part of a beautiful afternoon pestering the shit out of Mr. Bitchford because I want him to make some. I'll report back on its tasty, artery clogging goodness as soon as I can get him to break down and make it.

UPDATE: Mr. Bitchford said, "Hell to the no." I wasn't aware of his Whitney Houston vocabulary. I'm still working on him.

More Bathroom Drama

You guys know that there is constantly shit going down in my workplace bathroom (yeah, I said shit going down). Mrs. Flax just emailed me a new word for that funky, sweaty crotch smell that some of the women leave wafting in the stalls.

Tweat: it's a combination of the word "twat" and "sweat"

Example: Man, this cubicle reeks of tweat!

This will sound a lot better than me yelling across the room of cubes at Sukie, "Hey, Sukie. Don't go in the bathroom. Some bitch is sporting the cod fish panty today!"

This Shit Cracks Me Up!

Bitch pissed me off

Phone rings the other night.

Me: Hello.

Lady: Hi. Is this Mrs. Tanner?

This annoys the hell out of me for two reasons: 1. I'm not married, and 2. The name is Turner...can you fucking read?

Me: No. There is no such person.

Lady: Oh. Is this not xxx Little Street?

Me (curious): That depends. Who are you and what do you want?

Her: I'm calling on behalf of Blankety-Blank because my records show the Tanners own this home at xxx Little Street, and their home warranty is expiring, and they should renew it.

Me (pissed): Really? That's weird. Because I own this home. Me...by myself. There're no Tanners. It's my name on the mortgage, on the books--just mine, and I am not Mrs. Tanner of the Tanner family, and if you REALLY were someone I needed to talk to about my home, you would know that, or you would at least take the time to read the information in front of you.

WTF? Why do I have to be married to own my own fucking home? What is so hard about seeing one name on a mortgage? What is so difficult about understanding that me and my one name are single--there's no Mr., no little ones? And why the hell can't you get my last name right? This isn't rocket science, people. It's basic reading--not even whole sentences--just words--sounds really.

Sound it the fuck out.

Ode to My Sister

The fluffy hair, the synchronized dance moves, the flying V guitars...the list could go on. I know you'll remember this, Sissy, and I hope you enjoy it. :)

It's a Political Cesspool, but It's Mine!

In the past few weeks, I've felt the pressure and the unfortunate bigotry that all too often gets cloaked by religion here in Eastwick. It's like people think that if they can link some faux religious "rule" to their bigotry, then that makes it ok. Assholes. Sukie and I frequently are harassed by nut jobs in parking lots. They always want to know if we have been saved. I had a different kind of encounter today. I had one ask me if I knew of the terrorist that was running for president. I continued to walk away in silence. He yelled after me again. I stopped. I told him I wasn't aware that any terrorists were running for president. You see where this is going. He went to sputter something about our Lord Jesus Christ, and I just stopped him. I said, "First of all, what in the hell does he have to do with the presidential election? If that is how you want to make decisions for yourself, then fine, but don't drag your religion into my world. Second of all, I happen to think you are full of bullshit. Finally, it's really none of your fucking business who I vote for or why. This is America. I get to vote in private. And, if you really supported our troops, you would understand the significance of that statement. Instead, you probably voted for Dubya...twice...and now he doesn't even want to take care of our men and women when they come back physically and mentally ill-prepared to deal with their lives again. Asshole!" He then looks at me and says, "Then why don't you move if you don't like it here." I whispered back within an inch of his face (because I think people are way scarier when they are whispering and real up close), "First, that makes no fucking sense you dolt. And, this is my home. Yes, I often feel like it is a political cesspool, but it is mine. You better hope that me and mine don't decide to finally be tired of your stupid bullshit and stop supporting your right to free speech because if we do, we will run you out of Eastwick with flames and big words that you can't understand." He walked away! I won! I beat the crazy person! I'm not going to dwell on what this says about me. I won! ;)

R.I.P. Tim Russert

Sunday mornings won't be the same. Mr. Bitchford and I would enjoy our coffee and watch Meet The Press. I'm really going to miss watching Tim. Peace.

Damn, Girl! That's a shirt!

I know this is an older picture, but it had to be said. Damn, Britney! That's a shirt!

The Things You Read

I frequent a news forum, and I really enjoy it. Most of the time I can find good conversation and a few laughs. I thought I would share some of my favorites. One time, a woman was just on fire about a political subject. She typed, "That's my onion, and I'm sticking to it!" She meant opinion. Cracked my shit up!

Another time, a person was trying to describe what most of us would call a goody two shoes, but he/she didn't really know how to put it into words. The person typed, "Well, at least I'm not a goody goody tissues!" Ha!

Finally, I snorted out loud one day from my cube when I read the following. "Does anyone have some chester drawers for sale?" Chester drawers? Chester drawers? Oh! You mean a chest of drawers. Hee hee!

Got this e-mail last night...

And I figured I'd share it because of how true it rings...

(Note: I am aware that, contrary to public opinion, this is a complete fiction circulated via e-mail: Bill Gates did not say these things. What follows is actually an excerpt from the book Dumbing Down our Kids by educator Charles Sykes. It is a list of eleven things you did not learn in school and is directed at high school and college grads.)

Love him or hate him, he sure hits the nail on the head with this! Bill Gates recently gave a speech at a High School about 11 things they did not and will not learn in school. He talks about how feel-good, politically correct teachings created a generation of kids with no concept of reality and how this concept set them up for failure in the real world.

Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it!

Rule 2 : The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3 : You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4 : If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5 : Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

Sukie and Alex Ride the Bus Part 3

Did you know Gregg Allman lives in Eastwick? He drove by me and Sukie this morning while we were at our bus stop. He said, "Do either one of you ladies have a cigarette?" We said, "No." As you know, I have an affinity for the smokey aroma. I should have offered to run inside the store and purchase him a pack. Damn!

We also witnessed a domestic dispute of sorts. It involved a woman shoving a man...twice. Then they went into the store to buy a loaf of bread. I would tell you more about the man who was drunk and high and singing vulgar rap lyrics...loudly, but I'm scared Sukie might see red and threaten to sear his eyes with her mace. Not only am I saving gas and the environment, but I'm being provided with decent blog material. This is a pretty good deal.

Oh, The Mammaries

This is a photo of Maxi Mounds. Nope. I'm not kidding.

She's in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the biggest tits. Yep. Those babies are a size M. What the fuck is wrong with people today?

History in the Making

Tonight, Barack Obama becomes the first African-American major party presidential candidate in the nation's history.

Now, we just have to wait for him to make it to the White House.

The Shrub in the South

George W. gave the commencement speech last night at Furman University located in Greenville, S.C. As you can imagine, it was a college divided. It was reported that around 30 faculty members chose to not attend because of W. It was also reported that 14 faculty members that did attend chose to have a silent protest by removing their robes and revealing t-shirts that said, "We object." My question is why would Furman want one of history's most unpopular presidents to speak at graduation? Regardless of your politics, you must admit that he is a horrible public speaker. If I had been a faculty member at Furman, I totally would have gone so I could pass snarky notes to Sukie and snort at my own hilarious self. ;) Some graduates, not sure on the number, chose not to march because he was speaking. BTW, his speech was about personal and fiscal responsibility. Ha! I really thought the media was fucking kidding, but no. I really hate that Eastwick is the cesspool of politics. At least we have great weather and a good farmer's market. :)