2008 Windin' Down

I decided to dig through my 2008 posts and pick the best one. I was thinking that I couldn't possibly narrow it down, but then I found the post about Patricia. Remember her? She was the Avon lady that wouldn't get out of my fucking way last January. Here's a blast from the past. Enjoy!

Damn, Patricia

Update on the Mental Dick (Thanks, Jessie!)

I've started throwing my mental dick around for some practice. This just might work out. Here are two examples.

1. A "friend" on Facebook sent me a message that he was smoking a joint, and then he followed this up with some other weird crap about hippies and dirt. He's 35. 35! Normally, I would have said grow the fuck up, or I would have ranted and raved. I swung my mental dick around, and I deleted his dumb, stoned ass. No message. Just rejection.

2. I was craving a Diet Mountain Dew, so I ran up to the gas station. I was standing in line with my new red bedroom shoes on (this is Eastwick), and a woman tried to break in line. Normally, I would have either rolled my eyes, or I would have ranted and raved. Instead, the cashier finished with her customer, and I just stepped directly in front of the woman and paid for my drink. I didn't give her a nasty look. I didn't call her a bitch. I just paid for my fucking drink and left.

The men are probably wondering why this is such a new thing for me, and I have no explanation for you nor do I really owe you one. It just is. See! I swung it around again! Ha ha!

Be More of a Dick

I've decided on a New Year's resolution. I usually don' t do these unless there is something I really want to work on. I've decided to stop reacting to people like a southern woman. Southern women tend to shoulder the blame, and they worry about how their actions will make others feel. They do these things so much that they begin to worry and tend to forget about themselves. I fall victim to worrying about people who don't really give a shit about me. I also tend to be loyal to them, even when they have never returned the loyalty. Weird, huh? I guess I can thank my southern mother for that one.

I'm going to change my attitude, specifically at work. I'm going to work like a man. No feelings. No loyalty (except for Sukie because she's my bro, yo). If a decision needs to be made, I'm just going to fucking make it. If someone gets hurt, we'll then they should grow a set. I will know that I've reached my goal when someone says, "Man, she's really a dick." That's what people say about the successful men at the company. I think I'm already on my way. The president of the company has decided that I work well with the person he describes as the following..."I think you work well The Taskmaster. She leaves casualties behind, but she gets the job done. I would like you to work with her on more projects for the upcoming year." Any pointers?

The Poot Pillow

My nephew received a whoopie cushion in his stocking this year. I believe he called it a poot pillow. Anyway, it made Mr. Bitchford think of this time that I farted in K-Mart, and he couldn't stop laughing. It was pretty fucking funny, so I thought I would share with you all. First of all, no one goes to K-Mart in Eastwick. They all go to Wal-Mart, which is why I was at the K-Mart in the first place. I was in the face wash aisle, and Mr. Bitchford was two aisles over. There was no one around, and I had bent down to examine the Oil of Olay line of beauty products. I let a giant, loud, and stinky fart rip. As I looked up, there was a horrified woman staring at me from the end of the aisle. I hadn't seen her before. I did what any sane person would do in this situation. I looked at her and said, "Ewww. You're gross." I turned around, and Mr. Bitchford was at the other end of the aisle. He was doubled over with laughter. I walked towards him and whispered, "Just fucking walk away...fast." So, I left that poor soul on the beauty aisle, and she had to lay claim to my rank ass fart. Sorry.

Christmas Carnage

There really wasn't any. We burned up the road, which explains why I haven't been around. We somehow managed to book a room in the mountains on the coldest fucking day of the year. It was still fun, though. I also went a little crazy with the gas fireplace in the room. I managed to crank it up so high that we ran the AC on the coldest day of the year in the mountains. Oh well, it was a good excuse to walk around naked. We had a creepy "Stephen King" moment. We arrived at our room, and there was a giant German Shepherd that wanted in. He belonged to the innkeepers. I closed the door, and he started pawing at it. We went to grab something to eat after that. I told Mr. Bitchford that if we came back and Cujo was sitting in the middle of the bed, then I was leaving.

We finished off Christmas with my family. I think the highlight was my nephew announcing, "I wasn't even good this year, and Santa came anyway!" Sukie came over last night, and we finished off the rest of the white lighting and called it a night. Good times, good times.

My new dog is a sex addict

I have never seen a female dog masturbate--until now. And I am not talking about humping to show dominance. I am talking about giving herself an orgasm. And yes, I am sure that's what she's doing. It took me a while to figure it out, but that's definitely what she's doing.

She usually starts by licking her private parts. Then, she gets really excited, shoves one or both of her paws down there, and starts humping her paws. And then...if I don't interrupt her, she...ahem...finishes, and pants for several minutes as she winds down.

Yes, my dog is maturbating--frequently. And no, I am not happy about it.

Weird Weather

Eastwick is having the weirdest weather. It was 70 and sunny today. Shouldn't it be cold? It's December! I was able to take advantage of my new storm windows, though. So, it's snowing in Vegas, but it's 7o in Eastwick. Can I give a shout out to Al Gore? Seriously, the weather is completely fucked up. On top of everything else, it's fucking with my health. My allergies do not like the constant temperature changes. Maybe I should move to Arizona. Isn't that where people with bad allergies go? I hate the heat, though. Maybe I should move to Savannah, GA and just stay drunk all of the time. Did you know you can carry open containers around Savannah? Well, you can. I digress. This weird weather has really made me reevaluate where Mr. Bitchford and I might move to within the next two years. I doubt we'll stick around Eastwick forever, but I am a southern girl at heart. I love being close to the mountains and the beach; however, if it keeps snowing in Vegas and being unseasonably warm in Eastwick, then who knows where we'll end up. Any suggestions?