RIP, Bitches

A walkman with this song playing got me through my first cavity filling at the dentist.

This week was not a good one for entertainment icons. First, we lost Ed McMahon. Then, Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer. And now, the King of Pop is dead.

Venturing out

I'm venturing out on my own. If you haven't noticed, Sukie hasn't been posting lately. She's super busy, and I'm not sure when she will make it back over here. I still love being part of The Bitches of Eastwick, and we will keep the blog up. In fact, some of my posts will still be made here. I had noticed that most of my posts were personal, so I'm going to organize! Come see me over at Alex in Eastwick. Oh, and Jessie, I need a new header. ;)

Don't be a Hatersexual

My dad had a request for Father's day this year. He wanted to march in the first ever Pride parade in my hometown. My family still lives there, and I'm the only one that doesn't. This place is not as bad as Eastwick, but it's still in the Bible belt. So, my 60-something raised in the south dad wanted to march. People were very nervous about what to expect. Baptist churches had obtained permits to protest on the sidewalks. In fact, one Baptist preacher was caught on tape trying to get people to follow the parade and taunt people. The police, surprisingly, put him in his place. I noticed that the protesters were very concerned about people getting it up the butt. This kind of freaked me out. In the end, there were around 700 Pride marchers and 100 protesters. I was very proud of my dad and my hometown today. I have friends that have to say things like, "Well, I'm not excusing my dad for feeling the way he does about gay people, but he was raised in the south, and he is from a different generation." You know what? My dad is too, and he wore the most colorful shirt he had today and marched. I don't have any family members that are gay...at least that I know of. My parents just raised us to believe that you should treat people with dignity and respect. It was just a great day, and I will remember my dad marching in the Pride parade for the rest of my years. It just makes me smile.

Highlights from the West Coast

I had to travel for work recently, and these are some of the highlights.

1. It sucks to travel with a ton of people from work. I was ready to go out to eat at some cool local places. For most of my colleagues, this meant going to Applebees. Hmmm. I love sampling frozen, processed food.

2. I stepped out on my shared balcony, and I found a man sipping his morning coffee, while wearing a lady's nightgown. I stared at the view for a minute, and then I went back in. I peeked out of the curtains a few times. Odd.

3. I don't recommend sitting in front of the three year old wearing cowboy boots on the plane. She's a bitch, as is her mother.

4. I also don't recommend sitting behind the two year old screaming her head off. Her mother then decides it's a great idea to give her THREE hard boiled eggs! That child was cutting sulphuric farts all the way to the east.

5. Do not sit with your drunkard of a boss at dinner. He will tell you secrets you don't want to know and stare at your breasts.

Weight Loss Challenge

It's almost over. I have 7 more pounds to take off, and I will have reached my goal. It's taken me awhile, but I think that's a good thing. It took me a long time to put the weight on, so it shouldn't just fall off of me. I've noticed that it's easier to get ready in the mornings. I don't have to dread going into the closet and not having my pants fit. Everything just fits. Also, I'm not so damn uncomfortable in this heat. First of all, I have never been and never will be the girl that has thighs with that little air triangle between them. Mine touch. I think this is natural. At least now I don't feel like I'm going to start a forest fire, if I wear corduroy pants. See, all of the swishing...and the chunky legs...you get the picture.

I'm trying to change up my exercise routine. I like to run, and I like to use the elliptical. I'm trying to do a little cross training. I bought some new music.

Tell it to my Heart by Taylor Dayne (yes, I'm admitting it)
Some Sugarland song (they're kind of interesting)
Vintage No Doubt (excellent)

Any other suggestions?

Dr. Jerry

You know how you have lots of teachers, and then there are a few you remember? Dr. Jerry was one of mine. He taught me freshman biology, and I was terrified. I was an Arts major, and science was not for me. On the first day, we filed into the huge auditorium, and The Grateful Dead was playing. I couldn't tell you what song it was, but he would change it up a bit. Sometimes a little David Bowie would be playing. There were over 100 students in that class, and I just knew he would never know who I was. By the second week, he knew my name. He also knew I was struggling in the lab that was taught by a TA. How in the hell did he know that ? He cared. I was so terrified that I was going to fail biology. I didn't think I was capable of understanding anything related to science. Dr. Jerry tried his best to change that for me. He would meet with me in his office and go over the lab for that week. I would cry sometimes because I was 18 and didn't want to let everyone down. He would calm me down and start again. I didn't make an A in Dr. Jerry's class, but he didn't care. He was truly more concerned with me enjoying science and knowing that I was capable of understanding it.

Dr. Jerry died recently. He left behind so many loved ones. I never told him how much it meant that he took the time to just know who I was. I never told him that I appreciated the time he invested in me. I haven't thought about Dr. Jerry in awhile, but I cried at this news. His students meant something to him, and I hope he knew that he meant something to us. So, Dr. Jerry, I want you to know that, "When I had no wings to fly, you flew to me." Peace.

Monday Morning Madness

I woke up this morning and was dashing around the house at top speed. I hate Monday mornings. I ran by the television, and I heard Poison playing. I ran back, and I saw Bret Michaels being clotheslined by part of the set at the Tony Awards. My first thought was, "What in the fuck is Poison doing at the Tony Awards?" My second reaction was to laugh so hard that I think I peed on myself a little bit. I know you've probably seen it, but I just coudn't keep my mouth shut. Here it is. The only thing left was a straw cowboy hat from 1983 and a few strands of acrylic hair weave. So sad.

This I Believe...

The This I Believe project is very cool. If you have never heard of it, please click the link and read. I had to write one of these for an organization that I do some volunteer work for. I sat down to write it, and I had no idea what to say. I looked up, and I saw a picture of my beloved doggy, NJG. Some of the long-time readers probably remember when my dog died of cancer a few years ago. I was devastated. I've never loved anyone like I loved that dog. She was just very special. I thought I would share my This I Believe statement with you.



I believe in trust.

During my second year in college, I met my best friend. NJG was a terrier mix, who I found at the local animal shelter. She was shaking and thin when I met her. I took her home, and I had no idea how my life would change.

It wasn’t long before NJG stopped shaking and became my constant companion. We would go on long hikes throughout the South Carolina and North Carolina mountains. Something would pass between us during those hikes. It was not anything I can even give a name. I wanted to let that “something” in. On one of our hikes, some friends were trying to convince me to rappel off of a mountain. I was terrified. What if someone did not tie the ropes correctly? What if I did not secure myself before beginning my descent? The “something” that had passed between me and my beloved puppy took a hold of me. As I allowed a friend to prepare the ropes, I looked down and saw that NJG was sitting at my feet. I knew what she wanted. My friend strapped her to me, and we both rappelled down the side of the mountain. We were a sight, me with my teeth chattering from the fear, and my sweet puppy with all four of her legs sticking out stiff and straight.

Years later I found out that NJG was suffering from Mast Cell cancer. I was going to lose her, and it was going to be fast. I looked around my home, and I noticed all of the photos and memories that surrounded me. By my bedside table, there was a photo of NJG bounding through the waves at The Isle of Palms in South Carolina. She had no fear. It was just trust. In my home office, there was a photo of her staring happily into a sunrise in Boone, North Carolina. Again, there was no fear. It was just trust. Had NJG, who started out as my shaky and thin companion, taught me how to trust? She had.

As her days with me began to slip away, I wondered how I would ever be able to cope without her. During her last week, we had started to take afternoon naps together. I would pull her close to me, and I would fall asleep to her soft breathing. The “something” I had felt in the woods that day came over me again. It was trust.

X-Files

My x-files have been closed for a long time. The x-husband showed up at my office today. He works for the same employer, but our offices are located in different places. Anyway, he shows up to talk. I don't talk to him...ever...so this was weird. He sits down and says, "I'm getting married on Saturday, and I wanted to know if you had a reason that I shouldn't." My response was, "No." He went on to talk about how he wasn't sure, and he wishes things had worked out with us. I wanted to know what marriage he had lived in because the one I had been in sucked ass. I told him that everyone knows how wishy-washy I can be about decisions. I followed this up by saying, "Divorcing you was the one decision I have made that I never waivered on, and I never regretted it." I got up and went to a meeting that I was running late for. Oh, he asked me if I was going to call "her" and tell. I don't even know who "her" is, but I wouldn't do that. That's "her" shit to deal with. What the fuck is wrong with him? Now I'm stuck working with this dumb fucker. Ladies, be so careful of who you marry.

Neighbors

I bitch about my neighbors a lot on here. Kelly posted an entry the other day that reminded me of my old stomping grounds. When I entered grad school, I had NO money. My parents were kind enough to help me out with rent, but it wasn't going to be much. I really wanted to live by myself because I knew I would be studying around the clock. Plus, sharing a bathroom with someone you're not sleeping with or related to just sucks. It was the late 90's, and I had $200. Not only did I find a kick ass place to live by myself, I also had money left over. How, you ask? I lived in the ghetto. It was the old people ghetto, and it fucking rocked. The projects were across the street from my place, and it was always hopping. There would be slews of octogenarians around the laundry area and scattered throughout the porches. Some of the people I met through school were scared of my place. There was no reason. I would come home from a long day at work and school, and I would know the color, make, and license tag number of every car that had even thought of slowing down near my place. I couldn't even get out of the car before one of them was shuffling over there to give me the dirt. It was fantastic. It did suck when the grandkids would visit. They would come over and ask if I had cable. I'd just tell them that my mom wouldn't let me have visitors. They went away. I did have a crack whore knock on my door in the middle of the night. She needed a ride to pick her kid up. Being the kind hearted dumb ass that I am, I took her. She was terrified of my sweet doggy, so I insisted that she come too. My dog sat in the front seat and would growl at her every few minutes. Do you know she actually just needed to pick her kid up? I didn't get mugged or beat up. Poor crack whore just needed a ride.

Now, I live in a nice neighborhood, and I can't seem to get the stupid fucking assholes next door to understand that it is unacceptable to sit in your driveway with music blaring at 2:00 in the morning! That's ok, though. I'm sure they didn't like it when I leaned out of the bedroom window at 6:30 in the morning with my megaphone. Rise and shine, motherfuckers! I miss the projects.

The Great Knife Debacle

Mr. Bitchford's birthday is on Tuesday. I went shopping this morning, and I wanted to make sure I bought something from a shop downtown. I wanted to spend my money locally. I settled on the idea of getting him a nice chef's knife. He's been wanting one forever, and it's one of those things that you won't buy for yourself. We happen to have a locally owned kitchen shop, and the owner is super nice. I popped in and was instantly annoyed. There was a very loud woman on her cell phone. She was screaming about not getting a receptionist position. After the screaming woman finished her call, she asked the owner for a job application. By this time, I had selected a knife and was having it wrapped. The screamer was being told that the shop was not currently hiring, but she could leave her name and number. The screamer went on to talk about how hard it was to find a job and how badly she needed one. I get it. I have friends that have been affected by the economy. I read the paper and listen to the news. I'm not stupid. I am also very grateful that for the most part I haven't been affected. I hope this continues.

Back to my story. So, the shop owner gives me my total. It was a lot, but I knew it would be. I wanted to get him something really nice. The screamer let out a gasp. She turns to me and says, "How can you justify spending that on a stupid knife, when I can't even feed all of my children?" How in the fuck does one go about answering a question like that? I stared at her. She followed up by saying, "You are just flaunting the fact that you can spend that much. This is just stupid." Off she went out the door. The shop owner was horrified. I told her it was fine. While I think this woman was blaming the wrong person, I do understand her frustration. There was that evil side of me that wanted to ask her one question. Who did you vote for in the last national election? I had a hunch about her answer, and I might have slapped the shit out of her. But, what do you do? Can you really be angry at a woman who just wants to feed her kids? I don't know. Any thoughts?

Jessie's Question

I would like to know if you would ever just up and leave eastwick and move somewhere better. Why or why not? Support your argument.

First of all, I think it's funny that you realize somewhere else would equal better. ;) Seriously, that's my plan. Mr. Bitchford has to finish school, and I need to finish too. I have no real attachments to Eastwick, but I do have real attachments to my southern roots. I can't leave the south. Sweet tea was running through my veins when I came into this world, and it will still be there when I leave. The older I get the more I realize how attached to my southern roots that I am. This does not mean I'm attached to religion, conservative politics, or the rebel flag. I just love the slow ways of the south. With that said, I would totally blow this town.

Here's my plan. I would love to move to Black Mountain, N.C. It would still have those southern roots I speak of, but I would lose some of the hateful politics of Eastwick. It would also have more of those slow ways I speak of. Oh, and it wouldn't be so damn muggy and hot there either. Mr. Bitchford is a mountain man at heart, so he would love to live in a place like this. When I was younger, I wanted to live in the middle of everything. These days it sounds appealing to be so far out in the wilderness that I only grocery shop once a month. Don't think I don't have a career plan for my move.

One thing I've noticed is that even if people tend to have more liberal leaning ways, they are still fucking obsessed with their children. I would be moving to a place that was part home-grown boys and part yuppies. This is where The Learning Community comes into play. No, I don't want to be a teacher here, but I do see an opportunity. I would move to Black Mountain and strip the yuppies of their cold-hard cash. I would help parents get their children into The Learning Community. How would I do this? Follow me.

I would start out by befriending some of those crunchy folks that are featured on the website. Organic Gardening Teacher to those kindergartners? Watch out! You won't know what hit you. I also might seek out this school's diversity token...Hui Te Lee. You will notice that the children and the parents must go through a lengthy interview process. If there is one thing I know, it's how to interview. I'm not sure why, but I'm excellent at it. I think I read people well...or it could just be my big tits. Anyway, I have a gift, and I'm willing to share it with the yuppies for a fee.

What would Mr. Bitchford be doing? Probably making moonshine and wearing overalls. So, would I leave Eastwick? Absolutely!

Ask Alex a Question

As you can see from yesterday's post, I have been questioning everything lately. In fact, I have a new list for today. I actually kept some scrap paper with me today and jotted a few down.

1. Why would someone want her armpits to smell like cherries?
2. Why are my panties up my ass?
3. How did I manage to mistake a leg of my panties for the waist? (explains #2)
4. Why do people send you emails that they need to talk, but they never tell you what it's about?
5. Should I be embarrassed that I like to blast Jimmy Buffett on my ride home?
6. Did anyone just see me fall up the stairs?

Ever wonder what my opinion on Prop 8 is? Ever wonder what truly evil things I have done?
If you would like to ask Alex a question, please send an email to alexbitchford@yahoo.com.

Pondering

Things that have run through my head today:

1. Why aren't hairy legs acceptable?
2. Why am I not hungry for breakfast when I have all day to burn that food off?
3. Do people really not understand what a four-way stop is?
4. Did I hit her or did she just run into my hand?
5. Shouldn't being a bleach blonde be much easier?
6. Those might possibly be the largest natural breasts I have ever seen.
7. Where is my flying car? Isn't it 2009?
8. Does my cube mate really think I want to hear him cough up a phlegm ball and spit it into the garbage?
9. Are dirty tennis shoes acceptable work attire?
10. Should I tell the office manager about the goopy mascara that gathers in the corners of her eyes each day?

Fuck you, Eddie!

Mr. Bitchford and I went out for a night on the town to celebrate a friend's 30th b-day. We had a great time, but I was a little nervous about what the night might hold for us. The last time we went out with this group, we almost ended up in a bar brawl on the sidewalk. Basically, some frat boys in pink polo shirts tried to break in line, and Mrs. Flax and I got really pissed. Plus, we had been drinking. Not a good mix. Long story short, the fratastics and the guys in our group sort of circled each other. I got pissed because one of the frastastics pushed Mrs. Flax. I began to verbally attacked him, shove him, and then tried to nail him in the head with my high heel. Not one of my finer moments. So, you can see why I was a little nervous.

Back to celebrating J's 30th b-day. J wanted to go to a mojito bar, which sounded really cool. We all walked in the rain to the bar, and there was a bad vibe when we walked in. Everyone turned to stare, and everyone was drinking water. What the fuck? Isn't this a bar? Have a drink! I spotted an empty couch, so we headed over. There was a group to our left, and they immediately got up. Mrs. Flax noticed a reserved sign on their table. It was reserved for Eddie. A minute later, a waiter came by and said we were in a reserved spot. Well, there was no sign on our table, but that's cool. We decided to move on. Once we were outside, J told us that Eddie's group had gotten up to tell on us. Again, what the fuck? Why wouldn't you just lean over and say, "I'm sorry. This spot is reserved." No big deal, right? It really made me want to go back and scream at Eddie, but I wasn't drunk. Thank God. We moved on to a better bar and had a great waitress. She played with us and didn't care how loud we got. The night ended with public school pizza and shots. I know you remember the square pizzas from elementary school. These were very similar and excellent bar food. We had to walk past the mojito bar to get to our car. It looked like it sucked in there. Of course, I had to yell, "Fuck you, Eddie," as we walked by. Even though I had several leis tied in my hair like a sweat band, no one blinked an eye. Overall, it was a good night, and I realized that I've grown up a bit since my shoe throwing days. This is probably a good thing. Happy b-day, J! :)

The "Nerve" of Skinny Jeans

I just read this article about how skinny jeans can cause temporary tingling thigh syndrome. The solution to this stupid problem is not to wear your pants so tight that I can see your lips that don't sing. Know what I mean? I will never suffer from the TTS because my legs are actually built for carrying me around. I don't have large legs, and I don't suffer from the cankles. I also don't have legs that belong on a spider. Mine do NOT go on forever. If I wore a pair of skinny jeans, I would look like a webble wobble. This is not a good look for me. I would say that a small percentage of women should even be wearing the skinny jeans. Let's say 5% of women actually look good in the skinny jean. Does this constitute an article on how they are suffering? How about an article featuring the suffering that normal women go through because stupid skinny jean wearing bitches try to make you think that they are the norm? Where is that fucking article? I've just had my ass on my shoulders all week, so please excuse this empty, ranting post. Later.

P.S. I will be attending a friend's 30th b-day bash tomorrow night. I'm hoping to snap some inappropriate photos and possibly catch a cat fight or two on tape. This can be a wild bunch, so I'll report back.

Ethical Responsibility or Not

I have a huge dilemma, and I have no idea what to do. I'm in a graduate program with several people that I work with. There are two people that are behind me in classes. They both just finished one of the more demanding professors that we have. For the purpose of this post, let's call these two folks Dip and Dope. So, Dip emails me to ask about borrowing a book. I email Dip back and say congratulations on finishing the battle axe's class. Dip sends me the following email back.

"I will call you in a bit....let's just say, I wrote Dope's final for him on a laptop on the way to class and didn't quote anything....unlike mine where I spent 2 days and quoted EVERYTHING, and Dope made a 34 out of 35, and I got a 31.5 out of 35! You do the math."

They cheated in graduate school! This is just a huge no-no. I don't condone cheating, but it does happen in high school and undergraduate school. People are young and stupid. They tend to learn. By the time you are in graduate school, you should know better than to pull this bullshit. It sounds corny, but you should really respect the institution, your professors, your classmates, and your degree more than this. Oh, and respect yourself. Mr. Bitchford thinks I should just suck it up and move on. He says the world just doesn't care. It really bothers me that my classmates and I have worked our asses off, and these two cheat their way through a course. Will they keep doing it? Who knows? Did they really even earn the degrees they currently hold? I have no utterly idea what to do...if anything. Help.

Tiny Dancer

Mr. Bitchford and I are babysitting this weekend. We are keeping one of Mrs. Flax's little ones. Our bedroom door swung open at 6:45 a.m. There was a little voice that squeaked, "I'm awake...GET UP!" I felt a large thud on the bed, and then there was a knee in my kidneys. The dogs started raising hell and jumped on the bed. The Tiny Dancer then requested pancakes and sausage for breakfast. We stumbled out of bed and headed towards the coffee pot. There were several high pitched squeals as we shuffled towards the kitchen. Mr. Bitchford started breakfast, and I began to unload the dishwasher. Do you have any idea how hard it is to unload someone else's dishwasher? Mrs. Flax will probably never find her measuring cups or whisks. Who has more than one whisk? I digress. Mr. Bitchford made some pretty good pancakes and some turkey sausage. We ended breakfast by putting little pieces of sausage in between the Tiny Dancer's toes. We proceeded to let the dogs loose. More high pitched squeals of laughter. It was a good morning.

UPDATE: I spoke too soon about the good morning. As I was posting this, I heard the Tiny Dancer screaming for me. I found him in his bathroom. He was bent over holding his ankles with his butt cheeks spread. He needed me to wipe him.

The Mail Saga

The US Postal service (in Eastwick) sucks ass. I don't understand what the problem is. Can they not read? I'm constantly getting other peoples' mail, which makes me think that my mail is going to other places. I've affixed a giant sticky note to the inside of my mailbox. It has my last name in bold print. If the mail doesn't say Bitchford, then why the fuck am I getting it?!? I received someone's unemployment check today. This shit is serious. There is some poor man waiting on his check, and I have it. I can't decide if I should take it to his home, or if I should put it back in the mailbox with a note. I would hate for the man to miss some of his bills or something else important. I've lodged so many complaints, and I just don't think I should have to pay for a PO Box. Also, I doubt I would make it by there very often. My favorite piece of misdirected mail was from a prisoner. It was a sweet, little St. Patrick's Day card. It had a cute mouse on it and said, "Top O' the Day to You." Then I read it. Some of my favorite lines were:

"Baby, I hear that ass is so fat!"

"I know how you do, Boo."

"I heard you were a flip mode girl. Why don't you answer the phone?"

My brother-in-law ended up naming a band The Flip Modes because of this card. In fact, every New Year's Eve someone pulls it off the fridge and gives us a little performance. My favorite is our friend J.A. He adds a little Irish accent to it. So, while this particular card was a true gem, for most part, the US Postal Service still sucks complete and total ass.

P.S.
Continue to send good vibes. My first class meeting is Friday!

A Good Idea at the Time

As I sit here reading page after page of law definitions, I wonder why in the hell I thought it was a good idea to go back to school. The last time I walked across the stage I just knew that was it for me. I had gone as far as I wanted to go, and I was satisfied. Wait. I started to remember the fancy velvet hoods that the graduates before me were getting. Damn it! I really wanted one of those. So, here I am. I'm drowning in text that the normal person would consider mind-numbing, but I actually find it interesting. I can't wait to bust out in a meeting with some of my new knowledge. Our first official class meeting is on Friday, and I'm nervous. According to the syllabus, the professor kind of sounds like a dick. He doesn't allow drinks in his classroom. WTF? Plus, I've seen him. He wears a bow tie. I generally hold that against men, and I do not know why. Maybe it's because these same men probably wear sun visors and play golf with the likes of Lovey Howell's husband. *sigh* I guess I'll suck it up. Send some good vibes my way.

Pomp and Circumstance

I went to the graduation party. It was nice. I was so relieved when I walked in because there was one person I know. The woman who runs the tutoring center was there. She's just fucking awesome. I like her because she's one of those people that can get someone to shut his/her trap without being obvious. People don't even realize that she's kind of insulted them until it's too late to say anything. So, I sat beside her and her husband. The student's mom was really low-key and just tried to blend in. Her crazy aunt came over to introduce herself. I plastered on a huge smile and kept nodding. I hate meeting new people anyway, and it is worse when I feel like you've shitted on someone I care about. She moved along. The dad was the worst. He was drunk. He had brought a cooler of his own beer to the restaurant. Nice, right? Every time a present or card was opened he would yell, "How many zeroes are on that check? Can I have it?" Ugh! The funniest part was the student's uncle. He called himself "The T-bird." I'm not kidding. He was loud, and he would rub his big beer belly each time he told a stupid joke. Finally, my friend leaned over the table and pointed at him. She said, "So, T-bird, will you be going to graduation?" The smile dropped from his lips, and he stared at her stupidly. He said, "Uh, no, I don't think so." She said, "Very good, then." The party kept going and a few minutes later I saw T-bird scratching his head. He just realized that a Yankee bitch told him off (this is a big deal in Eastwick). Ha! Overall, it was very nice. I was glad I sucked it up and went. The student looked so pretty and happy. It was a good night.

Questions to Ponder

The questions below pretty much sum up the first half of my day.

Why did the IT guy change the password to my email account, and then email me the new password?

Why do people continue to get in the left-hand only turn lane, and then put their blinker on to get over in the right-hand lane?

Why do people still wear jelly shoes?

Why do pregnant women let their naked bellies hang out of shirts?

Why does the cat insist on sleeping on the only white comforter in the house?

What the Fuck is Wrong with People?

I've talked about the at-risk youth that I tutor, and I try not to blog about them too much. I don't know why, but I feel like I shouldn't blab their stories, even if you guys would never know who they are. Anyway, here's what happened today. One of them is graduating from high school in a few weeks. She's so excited, and she's gone through some really rough times to get where she's at. Her family has not been that supportive of her. Her grandparents seem like they are really behind her, but the rest seem, well, jealous of her. Her mom is usually doped up and has no idea what's going on. Her dad is usually drunk and has no idea what's going on. She told me that her dad traded her for a car when she was 7 years old. Her grandmother had to come pick her up. WTF? Anyway, she has an aunt (her mom's sister) that is sometimes nice to her. The aunt decided to throw her a big graduation party. She reserved a room at a restaurant and ordered a special cake. It sounded like she had gone all out for her. Well, the student called me today and was crying. We met for lunch, and she gave me the invitation. The aunt decided not to pay for any food. Guests can come and sit in the nice reserved room, but we will all be paying for our own meals. Now, this doesn't bother me, but the student was mortified. She doesn't want to ask people who have helped her to come and celebrate and pay for their own meal. I tried to make her feel better, but she just kept crying. She finally fessed up and said she thinks her aunt did it on purpose. The aunt has a history of wanting to celebrate the student's accomplishments, but then she gets really jealous and backs off. I'm going to show up and support her. I have no idea what to expect of the family. Her mom and dad will be there. I will go and try to smile and make small talk. I'm going to need several Xanax to get through this dinner.

LMAO @ Other People and What-Not

This is my new favorite website:
http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/
It is funny--but also sad.

A PSA from the 70's

Is this creepy or what? And, it's really fucked up what Betty's mother did to her best friend Dottie. Really, it was fucked up. Wash your hands, people!

Birthday Shout-Out!

Ok, bitches. I'm working my ass off and trying to finish my final project and paper for my class. Mrs. Flax rocked a special birthday today, so please send her some telepathic b-day wishes. We will be partying it up on the East side this weekend. I will need to let loose, so I'll be the one wearing the lampshade. When we were kids, Mrs. Flax and I would make up dance routines in the car. My favorite one was to She's Like the Wind by Patrick Swayze. You gotta love him. Too bad my parents never invested in a video camera. I'm sure I would have some damaging video. This one is for you, Mrs. Flax. Rock on with your hot ass self!

Where to go from here?

Who the fuck knows! Mr. Vomit came to talk to me today. I didn't have a lot to say to him, and there were some awkward silences. I usually feel like I have to fill those, but I didn't today. I just stared at him. He muttered a few things and left. I have been struggling to keep up with my work load, plus my graduate class is kicking my ass right now. Everything is due by Friday, and I will be cutting it close. It seems like everything has been piled on me this week. I was checking my email this afternoon, and I had one from Mr. Vomit. It was an actual apology. He really said, "I apologize." He also stated that he valued me and my work. That sort of creeped me out because it sounds like cheesy bullshit, but whatever. Normally, I would try to figure out his angle, but I just don't have time, and I don't much care anymore. My goal is to finish all of my work and school crap and take Thursday off. I haven't been out with Mr. Bitchford in forever, and his exams will end on Wednesday. I think we're going to an early movie and just not plan the rest of the day. The rest of my week can only go up from here, right?

Past Pissed Off

I had a shitty day at work. Mr. Vomit is once again at the center of my shitty day. To any new readers out there, Mr. Vomit is a shit-eating dog fucker that I work with, and I'm being nice with that description. Sukie and I work on a project with him, and he basically just doesn't listen to anyone. He's very disorganized, and he fucking forgets everything. The worst thing about him is when something goes wrong, he blames everyone around him. Well, today he blamed me. He drew back a bit of a nub, but the damage was done. He went to imply that I didn't do my job, so I called him a victim. I explained that victims do not take responsibility for their own actions nor do they seek solutions. Instead, they try to push the blame off on others in the hopes that no one will notice that they fucked up royally. He shut up. Once the meeting started to break up, I tried to address him one on one. It went like this.

Me: "Mr. Vomit, I can't read your mind. If you need help with parts of the project, you need to ask me. I prefer to speak to you face-to-face and not get in an email war with you."

Mr. Vomit: "That's fine."

Me: "Clearly, you feel that I have dropped the ball. I would like to talk about this and come up with some solutions that we can both live with."

Mr. Vomit: silence

How the hell do you work with and reason with a fucktard? Seriously? I'm thinking of quitting the project because I would just really prefer to spit in his face and not talk things out. I would also like to punch him directly in his shiny "I get a facial every week" face. I don't really want to quit because I really like the project. There is no hope of him being replaced, so I just feel stuck. What's a girl to do?

Why Pop Your Corn When You Can Poop It?

This is so wrong, but that has never stopped The Bitches before.

Jesus is Cheesy

So, this woman asked her boyfriend to make her some cheese toast one night and out came Jesus freakin' Christ! This is her story, at least. I don't really see Jesus in the cheese. Gregg Allman? Maybe. Jesus? Not so much. In the article, she talks about her religion and how important it is to her. She follows this up with the fact that she may try to sell the toast for a large sum of money. Well, nothing says praise the Lord like trying to profit from your religion. Maybe she would give all of the proceeds to her church, but I kind of doubt it. Also, didn't someone else already find Jesus in his cheese toast? Why, oh why, is Eastwick so behind the times?

Hard (pun intended) Economic Times

First, I must start this out by saying that I'm addicted to Google. I love searching for anything and everything. For this reason, I have no idea how in the hell I stumbled across homemade sex toys, but I did. Apparently, times are so tough that a man may need to make himself a homemade pocket pussy. I've posted the directions below with a link. I'm assuming that this was just a spoof for the sex website that features it, but I do wonder how many poor souls have burned the tip of their dick on the homemade pocket pussy. You know someone has tried it, and you know that someone has made the water hot and not warm. I do appreciate the fact that all of the steps, especially step 3, are just straight to the point. Are there any crafty guys or gals out there with more creations?

Pocket Pussy
Step 1: Fill balloons with warm water

Get about four or five balloons. Fill them with warm, not hot, water. Tie the ends so water will not squeeze out. This also works with hot water bottles.



Step 2: Roll a pillow put a plastic bag inside

Take a pillow; roll it up like a tube and tie a string around it or even use your belt. Push the warm water balloons into the opening of the pillow tube. Your fleshy warm vagina is almost ready. Take a small plastic kitchen trash can bag. Push it in between the balloons in the pillow. Put some lubricant of your choice inside the plastic bag that is being tightly squeezed by the balloons.



Step 3: Warm, tight, and slippery fake pussy

Get your dick ready. Put the pillow on bed. Put your dick inside this plastic vagina. You will feel the warmth, slipperiness and tightness you only dreamed of.

To All the Women in my Life

I don't know about you, but I really needed this today. Too bad it doesn't come with all of Mary's cute dresses. Damn.

Childhood Sing-A-Longs

Mr. Bitchford and I were sitting here chatting about old songs we remembered. I started talking about how my parents used to make my sister and I take drives in the country with them. I would always whine, but then it would end up being lots of fun. My parents were Oak Ridge Boys' fans, so we always had some happening cassettes in the car. I started to sing some of the songs to Mr. Bitchford, and he started laughing at the lyrics. At the time, I didn't know what I was singing. I was just a kid, and I thought it was fun to belt out the lyrics. I'll share a few with you.



Easy by The Oak Ridge Boys

All the boys called her easy

Took her to drive-in movies

And bragged about the good times they had



The girls talked about her

And had parties without her

And wondered why a girl would let herself go so bad



They called her easy, easy

And laughed about how easy she was

They called her easy, easy

They said she was easy to love



They didn't care if she was lonely

They didn't care if she was only reachin' out

The only way she could



They didn't try to understand her

And this smalltown talk branded her

With names that said she wasn't any good



They called her easy, easy

And laughed about how easy she was

They called her easy, easy

They said she was easy to love



Easy's child came early

It seemed in such a hurry

For one who'd go through life without a name



Easy's eyes were brighter

Than the moonlight on the water

When they handed her the child no one would claim



My friends thought I was crazy

To love Easy and her baby

They said I was a fool, but I just smiled



'Cause love is what you make it

Any way you finally take it

It's the only thing that makes life worthwhile



Now she's easy, easy

And life is not as lonely as it was

Because she's easy, she's easy

She's so easy to love



Now she's easy, easy

And life is not as lonely .......



Yes, this song is about a young girl that had sex with all of the boys. She became pregnant, and some fool claimed her baby, but it wasn't really his. Oh, how I loved singing this song. Mrs. Flax and I will sometimes get this cranked up real loud in the car and belt it out to this day.



Here's another one.



Trying to Love Two Women by The Oak Ridge Boys

Trying to love two women is like a ball and chain.

Trying to love two women is like a ball and chain.

Sometimes the pleasure ain't worth the strain.

It's a long old grind, and it tires your mind.



Trying to hold two women is tearing me apart.

Trying to hold two women is tearing me apart.

One's got my money, the other's got my heart.

It's a long old grind, and it tires your mind.



When you try to please two women, you can't please yourself.

When you try to please two women, you can't please yourself.

At best it's only half good; a man can't stock two shelves.

It's a long old grind, and it tires your mind.



Yep, it's a song about a man with two wives/girlfriends. My favorite line is, "At best it's only half good; a man can't stock two shelves." Ha! That's just funny. The truth is that I still love riding around by myself and blasting these songs. I don't usually admit it because not too many 30-somethings want to admit to being an Oak Ridge Boys' fan, but it's what I am. Oh, and my favorite one is William Lee Golden. I love all of that hair. *sigh*

Momfia AKA The Muffins

I was talking to a friend today, and she has a six year old. She was telling me about some of the women at a local school where she is from. Her kid is in kindergarten at a nice, public elementary school. Her friend's kid is also enrolled in a public school, but it's not so nice. Apparently there are these women who call themselves the Momfia or The Muffins. I'm not sure why a group would choose both of those names because one sounds kind of mean, and the other one reminds me of women with muffin tops. I digress. The Momfia has power, yo. My friend was telling me that this group of women decide which kids are going to be popular. Yep. They decide which kindergartners are going to be popular. Then, they purposefully don't invite the "reject" children to parties and play dates. I'm not fucking kidding. I got the impression that these women are actually mean to the children they deem unpopular.

I'm ashamed to say that this is taking place in the town I grew up in. It was very much like this when I was a kid. I think I was the kind of kid who beat the shit out of the popular kids, so they didn't really have a choice but to like me. I was sort of mean and demanding. What can I say? This attitude has taken me far. ;) Seriously, though, what in the hell is wrong with these women? I don't have children, so I thankfully don't have to deal with this bullshit. The closest I've come to dealing with it was when some tweens were making fun of my little neighbor, and I called them bitches and told them to get the hell out of my yard. I know it wasn't the adult thing to do, but they were acting like little bitches, and they made my little neighbor cry. What the fuck is wrong with people?!?

Sexy as Shit?

Someone sent this to me, and I had to share. You should really flush your toilet before taking a sexy shot of yourself for your MySpace page. Do I need to say anything else?

No Happy Easter in Eastwick

A tornado ripped through Eastwick on Friday night. Ahhh! It was pretty fucking scary. We have a basement to hide in, so we were very lucky. There were power poles that snapped right in two in our neighborhood. We didn't get our power back until about an hour ago. A shower has never felt so good! In some ways, it was kind of nice. We had beautiful weather (after the tornado), and all of the neighbors gathered around and talked. We fired up our grills and made sure everyone had something hot to eat. All in all, it wasn't that bad. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, the power came back on. Now, we get to head to the store and replace all of the fucking food that we lost. Shit!

Monster In-Laws

Actually, I really dig my in-laws, but it's funny to watch peoples' faces when I say they are coming. They do not venture into Eastwick very often because they used to live here. They pretty much hated it just like I do. They've since moved to the land of a blue state and are enjoying themselves. They just adopted a new dog, so she will be coming too. Apparently, she is giant and likes to jump on your lap. Oh well, it's better than a screaming kid with a loaded diaper. I was trying to prepare for their arrival because I wanted the house to be freaky clean and shit. What did I do? I threw out my back.

The last time they visited I had managed to throw out my back. I had been dancing with one of the dogs...don't ask...and it just went out on me. I was trying to throw away a giant bag of used kitty litter this time and out it went. Sometimes I wonder if I'm all that different or if people just don't talk about the real shit that goes down in their houses. Anyway, I've been hobbling around behind poor Mr. Bitchford and directing him on how to dust. He's such a good man. He hasn't said one cross word to me yet. Shit, I've annoyed myself a few times.

Isn't it funny how crazy we get when someone is coming to visit? I don't expect someone's house to be spotless. I just expect there to be no pubs on the toilet seat and no hair in my food. That's about it. I don't care about dust or a little clutter. Hey, at least I'm not going to serve them any meat from the door-to-door black market meat salesman.

On a side note, here's a shout out to Jessie at David's Doll. She just landed a professional photography gig. Snaps for The Doll!

Hell has Frozen Over

Ok, ya'll. It is officially April, and we are expecting snow tonight. I don't think it will accumulate, but damn! Al Gore, I would like to know what the fuck is up with this weather. Are the poor polar bears migrating to Eastwick?

On an unrelated note, my mother called the other day. She had just come back from a wedding and had wonderful details to share. I think she works with the bride and groom. Anyway, there were four-wheelers, rebel flags, and the bride danced to "I'm a Redneck Woman" by Gretchen Wilson. Oh, and the groom was missing a front tooth. Nope. I'm not making this up.

Now, my mom would like everyone to believe that she was nervously fingering her pearls, but I know better. I bet she was popping wheelies on that four-wheeler with her Ann Taylor suit riding up around her waist. When in Eastwick...;-)

One last thing...if a man comes to your house and tries to sell you some frozen steak, just say no. Check this article out. Seriously, who in the hell buys frozen meat out of the back of a pick-up truck...FROM A STRANGER??? Crazy!

Vertical Ballet

Have you ever heard of this? I hadn't. The local Eastwick news station did a story tonight on vertical ballet. It's what the rest of us call spinning around on a stripper pole. There were these women with their legs wrapped around these big, shiny, phallic poles. I don't mind the whole stripper workout craze, but at least own up to it. My favorite interview of the night was with an older white woman, who began her interview by telling the reporter that she was a good Christian. She said that this is strictly for her health, and it has nothing to do with the sex industry. The camera pulled back from her, and she had on thigh high stockings. She ended the interview by telling the reporter that she had even had a vertical ballet pole installed in her home. Now, we all know that woman is spinning around on that pole for her husband or significant other. Again, that's fine, but don't act like you are not riding the giant, phallic stripper pole.

The reporter also interviewed the instructor, and she looked a lot like Apollonia. Remember her?

The instructor kept calling it vertical ballet too. Come on, lady! I just saw you take a flying leap at that pole. You continued by executing some fancy leg moves that can only be learned in a strip club. Just own it! All week I have been bombarded with shitty news about the local, state, and federal government. Finally, there was a fun story on, and everyone had to act like an uppity bitch. What the fuck? Why couldn't they just call it exotic dancing or something? I really do hate this place.

Hmm

I watched Oprah yesterday. Michael J. Fox was on, and it ended up being a really good show. At first, I thought it might be a downer, but it wasn't. He's really funny. The show also featured interviews with him and his wife. Watching all of this made me realize something. Before I tell, I need to give you a little background.

Up until I met Mr. Bitchford, I don't know that I was ever really in love. I've been married before, and I look back and wonder why I didn't realize that I didn't really love my ex-husband. Maybe it was my age. Maybe it was the time in my life. Maybe he was just unlovable. Who knows? I've always said that if the person I was married to or in a relationship with suffered a debilitating accident/disease, I don't know that I would stay. I've always hoped that I would, but I never knew if I could do that or not.

So, back to my realization. I was watching Michael J. Fox and his wife interact, and it hit me. I would stay with Mr. Bitchford. I couldn't imagine abandoning him. It's weird how you float through life and begin relationships and end relationships. I can honestly say, for the first time, that I am in love. Weird.

No Words

Someone sent me this link today.

Countdown To Chaos

I really have no words. My state doesn't care about its people. The stimulus package debate is dead. It's out there now. If the governor takes this money or does not take this money, I will have to pay it back. What's going on out there? What are your states doing?

Limericks are Fun!

There once was a maiden named Purl
Who knitted for food, but then would hurl
Tried as she might
Her throat was too tight
And up it came in a swirl

By Alexandra Bitchford (no stealing, bitches)

Ok. I've been talking to an old friend that is a genius at limericks. I love these because they don't take very long, and you never know what you will get. I wrote this one in a rush, but I thought I would share. Give it a try.

Weight Loss is a Bitch

I haven't given an update on my weight loss journey since the beginning, so here it goes. As a wise woman once said, "Weight Watchers can kiss the very fattest part of my ass." It has not been easy, but I have lost a total of 17 pounds. My goal was 20, so I'm not far off. My clothes don't fit anymore, which is kind of a nice feeling. I need to buy some new ones, but I don't have a ton of extra cash, so I will be digging in the bargain bins. I have some dresses that I love, so I'm just going to have those altered. I want to reach my goal weight before I do that, though.

Now I have the actual weight loss under control, and I want to start working on building some muscle. I hate weight training, so I need some creative ideas here. Anyone? Anyone? I would love to get into some cute bathing suits this summer, so I really need to come up with a plan soon.

There are a few people I need to thank because without them, I would not have pedaled away on my elliptical.

Vanilla Ice - I rolled all the way to a 17 pound weight loss in my 5.0, so thanks.
Mary J. Blige - Girl, I "no more dramaed" my way to a firmer ass.
Poison - Just hearing Don't Need Nothin' but a Good Time makes me start to sweat.
Katy Perry - You didn't make me want to kiss a girl, but now some may want to kiss me.

Later...

The Political Cesspool

Here's a fine photo of some of our state legislators. They are literally rolling up their sleeves to support our governor. Basically, they are pissed about the stimulus plan, but they haven't really offered any solutions to our state's problem. Why? Probably because they cater to our state's problem. These are the same guys who Twitter about watching American Idol and eating at the Olive Garden. If you remember from a past post, this isn't a personal Twitter account they do this from. Perhaps American Idol or the Olive Garden is part of their solution. Who the fuck knows? As long as they keep telling the Eastwickeans that all Hispanics are nasty illegals and homosexuals don't deserve rights, then all will be right with their world. At any rate, I saw this picture today, and it made me vomit in my mouth a little bit.

Spring in Eastwick

Costco Incident

A disturbing incident happened at Costco last weekend, and I've been trying to process whether or not I took enough action or too much action. I went to visit Mrs. Flax, and I decided we should go to Costco. I had never been, and I needed lots of microwave popcorn. Off we went! First of all, Costco rocked. I wish Eastwick had one, but it's a sucky place to live, so...

Mrs. Flax and I were standing in line, and there was a boy between the ages of 8 - 10 in front of us. He was in line with a woman that looked like she was his grandmother. Directly beside us was a young family. There was a mom and dad in their late 20's or early 30's and a little girl about 3 or 4 years old. The little girl was standing up in the buggy, and she fell. It wasn't a big deal. She bumped her head, but she didn't even cry or whimper. The dad took her out of the buggy and held her. The little boy, who was in my line, pointed at her and said, "Ha ha." It wasn't even that loud. It was just the kind of stupid shit that kids do. This man punched the little boy in the stomach and said, "That's not funny." I stared with my mouth wide open. I couldn't believe that this strange man had hit a child. After about 30 seconds, I told Mrs. Flax what had happened. She had been rooting around in the cart and hadn't witnessed the madness. I leaned over and asked the little boy if he was ok. He was crying and holding his stomach. The young family got their shit together and headed towards the exit. The grandmotherly woman turned around and asked, "What happened?" I pointed to the man's back and told her that he had hit the boy. She said, "That's his dad." She didn't really say it like that changed anything, but I got this feeling that other people thought it did. She paid for her items and asked, "Did he hit him hard?" I said that he had, and I didn't realize that was his dad. She said, "It doesn't matter. He shouldn't hit him." She put her arm around the boy and started marching towards the young couple. She turned around abruptly and said, "Thank you."

I still feel like I should have done more, but is there some imaginary line that you don't cross with someone else's kid? I felt like the dad was out of line. First, I just don't think you hit children or anyone really. Now, there are times where I feel like beating the shit out of some adults, and in the past I have been in a few bar brawls, but I still know it's wrong. Plus, I haven't hit a child. I don't know what else I would have done. Technically, I doubt the police would have done anything about it. I still feel terrible, though, because that little boy probably gets pushed around a lot. If a parent is bold enough to punch a child in the stomach in public, then what is the parent doing behind closed doors? I'm just stumped and upset.

Snobs

I'm addicted to GoodReads. This is a good thing and a bad thing. It's good because I love to read, and I have stumbled across so many books that I wouldn't have discovered on my own. This is a bad thing because sometimes I just like to read trash. I can enjoy just about any kind of book. I do tend to stay away from sci-fi or fantasy, but I will try and read just about anything. I've found myself not wanting to list everything I read. Some stuff is just silly. I really like chick lit because it helps with my stress level. I don't really have to concentrate, and I know the ending will be happy. One thing I have noticed is that some reviewers are complete and total book snobs. I'm not down with this. Why be so serious? If something sucks, then I do appreciate someone telling me why he/she thought it sucked; however, don't be a snob! Here's an example. I read some of the reviews for a book called A Piece of Cake. I really liked this book, and I thought the author had an important story to tell. Other reviewers slammed her for her "bad grammar" and writing style. I didn't really see this. So, Sukie borrowed the book from me, and I was interested to see what her review would be. She liked it, and she called those other reviewers out. There wasn't any bad grammar. It was a rough story to get through, but it was real.

So, I only have a handful of friends on GoodReads, but I'm ok with that. I like chick lit and silly plot lines sometimes, and I'm ok with that. What do you expect from someone who finds shit like this just fucking hilarious?

Crazy Vacay!

Mr. Bitchford and I began our whirlwind vacation last week. It began with a crazed visit to our oldest friends' home. They are married. It was crazed because their two-year old has discovered his own free will. It was ugly, and that is all I'm gonna say. We went on to attend my nephew's b-day party. The crazy germaphobe bitch didn't show. There was screaming, happy meals, cake, and presents. My nephew's girlfriend broke up with him, and it was reported that he was in a corner repeating, "It's all my damn fault." By the end of the party, they were back together and all was well. As far as the curse words, well, we are all guilty for those. ;)

Mr. Bitchford and I headed to the mountains for a few days, and the dogs came with us. There were no phones, and there was no computer. It was very relaxing, but I am glad to be back home. I like having my own shit around me. So, a week from now I will probably be complaining about how I need another vacation, but for now, I'm glad things are winding down. I'm also glad to NOT be trapped in the fucking car anymore.

Our governor still sucks. Eastwick is still built upon the stinking, steaming depths of hell. The Eastwickeans still drive like they are in wind up cars and will lose power at any second. I love being back home.

Germaphobe Soccer Mom Saga Continues

Here's the latest email.

"I know you probably think I am the biggest goof but the actual Flu (versus just strep, head cold, etc.) can be fatal and I know that McD's never cleans their toys, spit, saliva and germs are all over those climbing things, and normally I would care less, but its the flu. Every snot nosed kid there would creep me out and in my heart, I just can't do it (I have thought about it over and over). I do have something for the birthday boy. Is there an evening/afternoon next week that we can get together for a little playdate?"

Do moms seriously send shit like this to other people? I've come up with a variety of responses.

1. Fuck off, crazy flu whore.
2. I'm sorry. If your kid comes over to my house, my kid might make him sick and kill him.
3. You are officially uninvited and banned from ever communicating with me again.

I know you guys will have some more. What are the chances that a woman (or a man) will make this little boy happy one day? I'm guessing the chances are slim.

Birthday Parties and Crazy Soccer Moms

A friend of mine is throwing her little boy a birthday party on Saturday. After much debate about the weather, it was decided to go with the traditional McDonald's party. I remember these as a kid, and I thought they rocked. So, my friend sent out her invites, and she got a rather weird and nasty response from another mother. It goes a little something like this.

"My only hesitancy is the that the flu has just started going around and McDonald's playground- ugh. The flu can be fatal and is at a minimum, really miserable for 10 days. Unless McDonald's regularly cleans its playground and toys..."

Seriously, soccer mom bitch? Your kid is the reason the germs are everywhere! Do you think the school your child attends wipes everything down each day? They don't! I wanted to respond to her and tell her to keep her stupid ass at home, but it's not really the kid's fault that the mom is a nut job. Poor kid. So, what would your response have been? I honestly can't wait to hear The Doll's response. ;)

Don't Let Your Champagne Taste Ruin Your Beer Budget

Ok—has anyone else seen the story about the bus driver who is on the verge of losing the $800,000 house she and her husband bought? Now, look, some of the foreclosures happening in America today are unfair. The lending industry did take advantage of a lot of people with their crooked mortgages and lending practices. HOWEVER, this is not really one of those cases. (Well, it is a little bit) Yes, the lender here is at partial fault because really? What lender would look at these people and think “Yes, these people will probably be able to pay off this house. This probably won’t end in foreclosure.” (I am assuming, of course, that banks prefer that people pay their mortgages rather than foreclosing on them, but I don’t really know that) And the fact that they allowed these MORONS to believe that they could afford an $800 K house is both ridiculous and wrong. HOWEVER (again), the bus driver and her husband are equally at fault because how ducking stupid do you have to be to think you can afford that house???

According to this salary wizard that I found online, the median salary for a bus driver in the US is $18,446. Now, I haven’t been able to figure out what her husband does for a living, but let’s just suppose he makes $30,000 (I’m willing to bet, however, he doesn’t make that much). That would give them a little over $48,000/year. According to this simple loan calculator that I found via Google, a 30-year loan for an $800,000 house at a low interest rate of 5.75% would end up costing these people $4668.58 per month. So…some more basic math: $48,000/12 = 4000. Now, that’s how much a month these people would have without giving up any of it to taxes or anything. And that? Isn’t even enough to cover the mortgage payment, much less electricity, gas, telephone, groceries. Now, your mortgage payment is not supposed to be more than 20% of your monthly income. I am really bad at math, but here’s what I figured: 20% of 23,342 is 4,668.40, so they would need a monthly income of over $23,000. Thus, they would need (not accounting for taxes again…) a yearly salary of $280,104. Pretty sure that has a snowball’s chance in Hell of happening. So I ask you: What lender would approve such a mortgage? And what idiot potential homebuyer wouldn’t look at that mortgage payment, and think, “How will I pay this?”

Note: I did not take into account any down payment because I figure any down payment they could have made: 10%, 20% wouldn't have made much of a difference in this case...but because several people on my other blog are optimists and suggested that maybe they put down a hefty down payment or "came into some money," I did a few more calculations. Not accounting for what comes out for taxes, IF they make a combined income of $48,000, they'd be bringing in $4000 each month. 20% of that is $800. Even if they came into some money from somewhere...to get the payment down to something they could afford ($800), they'd have had to put down $650,000 (and the payment would be around $875). Now, what are the odds these people inherited $650,000 from someone to put down on this $800 K house? My guess is the odds aren't too good. Simply put, the lenders in this case allowed these people to believe they could afford a house way outside their means, and the homeowners themselves were stupid...yeah, just stupid.

This example is also a sad commentary on our current American society. We are a nation of people seeking instant gratification and a nation of people who feel entitled. We are greedy. We have to start learning to live smaller, to live with less. We need to learn that we are not entitled to the best of the best. Are we all entitled to the American Dream? Sure. But we need to redefine the American Dream of the new millennium. In the 50s it was a lot simpler. I know because I am living in someone’s 1950s-era American Dream House. And it cost less than $100,000. And I can afford it because I make more than $18,446. Would I not love to also live in the lap of luxury with an $800,000 house, and a couple new sports cars, and ducking cabana boy by my custom pool? Sure. But I’m not willing to let any taste for champagne spoil my beer budget. And that’s what we need to come back to in this country. Unfortunately, it’s probably going to be a hard and long lesson for us to learn because we’ve been spoiled too much too long.

First of all, I would like to say that I really hope that Haleigh Cummings of Florida is found alive and well and unmolested. I really do. She's just a little girl. I hope she'll be ok.

With that out of the way, I would like to add that if, while in the midst of searching for your missing little girl, you take a time-out to get a commemorative tattoo, you might be a big, old douchebag.

The end.

Hypocrites

As a person living in a red, red state (and an even redder town), I am just not that surprised by this really. I think it's kind of like the "he who smelt it, dealt it" rule. He who condemns it loves it. Just like how all those crazy evangelical preachers keep getting busted for partaking of the sins they preach against in the pulpit. Homophobes, for example, who are having elicit sex with male prostitutes. I'm just saying...there's a reason those living in conservative and religious states are buying more online porn. Why don't they just give it up already???

The Morning After

We ended up with about 3 inches of beautiful, white snow. Sukie almost lost her car due to a dead tree, but she got lucky. Everyone seemed to keep their power and not have any damage. The dogs just went bat shit crazy. One acts like a snow plow, and the other one is too small and hairless to enjoy it on her own. She hid in my jacket, while the snow fell on her tongue. Weirdo. What a great morning. Here are some pictures from this a.m.

My magnolia tree

Small vineyard in the back

Snow in Eastwick!

You know that saying that people in hell want ice water, but they don't get it? Guess what? They do today! It's snowing in Eastwick! Mr. Bitchford thinks I'm funny because he grew up where it snows a lot. I can't help it. When you never get to see any, it's just so pretty. Here are a few pics. We are due to get anywhere from 3 to 5 inches, which is a huge deal to us. Plus, everything shuts down around here because no one knows how to drive in it. Woo hoo!

Update

This just makes me feel like a kid again. We could get up to 5 inches, which is a lot for us. The dogs and I have been running around the neighborhood with all of the kids. I've opened all of the windows in the house, so I don't miss it. My b-day is Wednesday, and it's like an early birthday present.

Look Out for your Neighbor

When the economy began tanking, I knew it would be bad, but I didn't anticipate how desperate people would become. This is a news story detailing a bank robbery that happened in a county down the road from Eastwick. According to the police, the man did not have a criminal record. I'm not excusing robbing a bank and putting these people in danger, but I think we will see more and more of this. I was having a conversation with Mr. Preppypants the other day, and he just pissed me the fuck off. As you can imagine from my previous posts, Mr. Preppypants and I do not agree on a lot, especially on politics. He was giving his view on the stimulus package and President Obama. He basically said that the whole thing blows, and he shouldn't be held responsible for helping someone else. Well, why not? I've always felt like the Republican party, which Mr. Preppypants belongs to, feels as though community organizations should take care of people down on their luck. In the Eastwick area, this mainly consists of faith-based organizations. Now, I don't prescribe to the Eastwickeans idea of religion, but I still believe that these places do wonderful things for my community. I try to give as much as I'm able to give. I asked Mr. Preppypants, "When is the last time you gave money to one of these organizations? When was the last time you volunteered?" His response was that he shouldn't have to help "these" people. My response was, "Well, if we don't help through the community and faith based organizations, then the government will have to get involved." His response was for them to fend for themselves. I would like to think that I'm right, but who knows. All I know is that it makes me feel better to care for my neighbor than to turn a blind eye. I wish someone would have done that for the man in the article. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so trapped.

Technology Killed the Library Book

I've heard about the Kindle. Have you guys? Apparently, there is a new version out. Here's a story. Why would someone want to read a book on a tiny computer screen? Some of my most relaxing moments have happened sitting in a lounge chair with stacks and stacks of library books around me, while a nice ocean breeze ruffled the pages. Never in this moment have I had to worry about sand in my Kindle. What the fuck, people? I love technology. I'm not a person that thinks technology is only for young people. I also don't think it will destroy us all. It can be really cool and convenient; however, it can also take things away from us. You never know what you will find in a library book. I love it when someone has actually written little notes throughout the book. I borrowed a book from Sukie awhile back, and she had underlined some of her favorite passages. It made me pay attention to those passages and ask her about them later. It sparked a nice conversation on the way to work. This would NOT have happened with the Kindle. I'm hoping that this new technology will die along with the PedEgg and the Kinoki detox foot pads. Eww.

Coraline

Mr. Bitchford and I do not go to the movies much, but we finally decided to check out Coraline last night. Now, you must first know that I do NOT go to the movies at night and/or on the weekends. I do not like most people, so I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of Eastwickeans. We arrived, and I was amazed at the amount of people there. Once we entered the theater (with both of us already wearing our 3D glasses because we are geeks like that), I was overtaken by the smell of wonderful, greasy food. There was popcorn with trans fat topping on it. There was candy being rattled around in packages. There were sodas as big as my fucking head being slurped, and there was motherfucking pizza! I did not know that the movie theater sold pizza. So, we sit down with our Buddy Holly look alike 3D glasses on, and the previews begin. Just so you know, an awesome looking Tim Burton film will be coming out in September. I believe it is called 9.


So, Coraline bounces on to the screen, and she has blue hair. She's terribly cute and quirky looking, and the intro is very Beetlejuice like. I won't go into too much detail because I encourage you to go check it out. Here are some things to look forward to in the film.

• Scary Scotty dog bats
• Naked cartoon boobs
• Teri Hatcher turning into her real-life self near the end
• Some balls almost being cut off

All in all, you should expect a very dark, but wonderful movie. Oh, and a plus is that They Might Be Giants sing a song in the movie. Very cool.

Did you know...

...that Americans looking to adopt are more likely to adopt a foreign-born child than a Black child born in America?

Meanwhile, American-born black children up for adoption are more likely to be adopted by non-American parents, particularly Canadians, Germans, French, English, and Belgium parents (also parents from the Netherlands...what are they called? anyway...).

Says a lot about where we rank skin color in terms of importance in this country, eh?

BTW: Black babies are cheaper to adopt, too--it's like they're on sale...just trying to get Americans to take them. Instead, Americans pay a lot more money for a Russian orphan--because its white--or an Ethiopian--because, thanks to Angelina Jolie et. al., that's vogue.

Source: Christian Science Monitor (2004--yeah, it's been 4 years or more, but I bet it hasn't changed much statistically). And no, I wasn't just catching up on the CSM. ;-) A book I was reading cited this source, so I looked it up.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Hershey closing Peppermint Patties plant in Pa.

This was the headline that caught my eye today. The peppermint patties will no longer be made in the U.S. Production will now be in Monterey, Mexico. The news report stated that around 300 U.S. jobs will be lost. When I first heard the news, my instinct was to not buy this product anymore. If everyone has the same reaction, then the peppermint patty will cease to exist. Is this right or wrong? I guess it's just me exercising my right as a consumer, but it seemed sad. I've heard the news, like everyone else, about losing American jobs, but for some reason the Hershey giant having to give up and move production of one of its popular candies made me really sad. Will you guys continue to buy products that are made in other countries? I try to buy local, but it can be expensive and hard to find certain products. Any tips out there?

Alexandra the Rapper

Do you ever have something happen at work, and you think you blogged about? You go back through all of your blog entries, and you can't find it. WTF, right? I thought I had told you guys about this woman I had been working on a project with. This was last year, but I'll give you a summary to lead into the new happenings. Long story short, we were chosen to work on the same project, but we were from different departments. She felt that she was in charge, and I thought we were working as a team. She tried to give me what she called a directive, and I laughed at her. She then went on to bob her head at me, wag her finger, and call me a little white girl. She's black. I was really upset, and I've thought about it a lot since. It really bothered me that she saw me as just some white girl she worked with. I guess at least I was little.

Anyway, she has a new boss. The boss came to me and asked if I could sit in on some meetings with this woman and evaluate her. The new boss felt like I had more experience in this particular area, and the new boss felt that I might could help. Turns out that the bitch really sucks at her job. It was worse than I thought. I was not mean, but I was very honest with her new boss. The new boss decided to demote her and put me in charge of mentoring her on her motherfucking job! It's funny because karma is a bitch, but as you can imagine, I'm not looking forward to this. She won't be happy. I thought I could show up on the first day and rap for her. Here's what I have so far.

Yo, yo, yo bitches
I'm a little white girl
Short and small
You fucked with me
So I took your job and all, beeyotch.

Feel free to add your own lines.

I'm as Free as a Bird Now

My birthday is coming up next month, so Mr. Bitchford asked me to make a wish list. Here it is.

1. A tiara
2. A porch swing
3. A rocking chair
4. A pearl handle revolver that will fit in my favorite handbag

He looked at the list and said, "Wow. You really are southern." I don't really identify with being a southern woman because southern people are usually depicted as stupid. We don't all have a thick drawl, and we aren't all conservative Baptists. I'm a somewhat Buddhist following socialist stuck in Eastwick. Now you see why I need the pearl handled revolver. I feel very out of place because of the way I speak and because of my political and social views. On the flip side of this, I fit right in at a honkey tonk with a bottle of beer in my hand. There's nothing like spending the day out on the lake, and then spending your evening on the deck of your favorite watering hole. So, while I may call a vending machine a ge-dunk (because of the sound the food makes when it falls), and I might say ya'll, this doesn't mean that I fit all of the southern stereotypes. Just don't show anyone my birthday wish list, please. ;)

On the 200th anniversary of Darwin's birth

I find it frightening that 25% of Americans still don't believe in evolution. And most of those? Don't believe in it because they believe in the Bible. You should have heard these people talking on CNN today! It was ridiculous! Example: "Darwin was a hack. The Bible says God created man from dust. And the Bible is truth. Therefore, it is truth that God created man as man and evolution cannot be truth." A little circular reasoning, anyone? Ever heard of begging the question? It's too much, I assume, to expect they've ever taken a biology class. Or a logic class. Especially considering the poll also reveals a direct correlation between education level and belief. Those with more education believe in evolution; those with little education staunchly refuse to believe it. Figures.