
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Rosie Award

Saturday, November 21, 2009
Eyes on Your Own Paper Mister!

Q) What is worse than a cheating husband?
A) Why the rancid whores that cheat with him of course.
Now I’m not much for rules. For example, when my son goes over to visit a friend, I run down a mother-load of rules that would likely choke a rhino but the only rule that I really care about is that he doesn’t crap in someone else’s toilet.
But not much I can do about that one can I?
But there are some rules that should not be flushed as easily.
Last I heard, Not Cheating wrote the book on How to Stay Married and Not Kill Someone. It’s a bestseller in prison, I’m told.
Recently a new co-worker of about five months decided to shower me with the gruesome details of her cheating spouse. These cheat sheets come on a daily and sometimes hourly basis.
Now I love a good train wreck as much as the next guy but when there are kids getting caught in the tracks, count me out. Negative zero tolerance.
Q) Why did she choose to bestow me with this unwanted dirty load?
A) I must have added a little too much Please-Be-Sure-To-Vomit-Unwanted-Information-All-Over-Me- perfume.
I want off this train.
And I blame The Anti-Christ- Google for Cheaters Facebook. They started all this. She would have never found out about -not one- but TWO of his extrees otherwise.
All she had to do was friend a friend of a friend of his friend of a friend of her friend who friended hi…. and viola!
Cheating Husband and Bitches Palooza.
What happened to the good ole days when you just became President and just got plain caught?
Now showing in Car One-A lewd Facebook porn collage of piece one and piece two, respectively of course.
Car Two displays a an epic novel in process showcasing a mistress’s eternal patience and undying love -Until He’s Free…On my blog, I kid you not.
Are you listening Lifetime? Stop filling people’s heads with such asscrack plot ideas!
There are two-piece love letters ga-whore plastered all over this dirty train. And apparently, cheater husband and piece-one even go to therapy together once a week.
This cannot end well.
And I know way too much for an innocent (drama kills) co-worker bystander.
I could wind up calling in dead if I’m not careful.
Q) How bad could I get hurt if I jumped the tracks at full speed?
A) ?
Jane! Stop this crazy thing!!!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Obsession thy name is Edward!!!

Oh and let’s not forget Jake…like we ever could!
I don’t remember the last time that I was so taken in and all consumed by a series of books or characters. Unless you count that brief period of mourning when they killed off Catherine on the Beauty and the Beast T.V. series. And… if you can call six months brief.
Forbidden duel world love affair … secret underground city beneath the streets of New York.
Does sci-fi get any better?
I still can’t believe they off’d her. It was a very black time for me.
But low and behold…and looky here, sci-fi has done restored my faith once more!
And obsessed does not even begin to cover this one!
Not surprisingly, I have yet to meet anyone who has read these books that was like ‘uh yeah, they’re o.k.’ or ‘those books sucked yo’
These books breed addiction! Pure cult-like attraction for these out-of-this-world and every-world characters that will not be denied!
We’re not hurting anyone. There are no mass suicides. Nobody’s shaving any heads.
But in case you haven’t noticed, most boys don’t get it.
My husband by proxy will now reluctantly stand in for all the boys on this point:
“The Underworld now that was a movie” insert big cheesy chest puff here. “These vampires are nothing but a bunch of sappy ass wannabes. All’s I know is that if I don’t see someone’s head being chopped off in the first five minutes, the movie has to suck” now add loud snort to retarded chest puff “And what’s that vamp doing out during the day anyway?”
“There’s no direct sunlight or else he would sparkle” God, doesn’t he know anything?
“Well do they fly at least?”
“Kind of and Edward reads minds…except for Bella’s of course. And Alice sees the future and…”
“How weak! What do you guys get out of all this? What’s the big deal? It’s just a dumb movie!”
“Oh really? Exactly what time are the Yankees coming over to deliver your portion of their proceeds you screaming fan freak?”
Don’t worry guys; there was no bloodshed… this time. Although that would have blended in nicely with our theme don’t ya think? But I, like Edward, have restraint.
I have never been ready to love a movie more! And I am dying to see it!
Dying, Dying, Dying I say!
How about you bloggy sisters? Spill the blood! Let me hear it!
Before the movie. After the movie. Anytime! That’s what good obsession is for!!!
And for those not yet-bitten bloggy sisters…can I possibly sway you over to the obsessive side? Please!!! Please!!!!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Holy Kidnapping!

THANKSGIVING: Now listen up you Santa ball licker. If you want to make it to see the New Year you better pay close attention.
CHRISTMAS: Gulp
THANKSGIVING: First rule- get the sleigh bells out of your mouth mincemeat. Nobody can understand a word you’re saying through those lying rotten gingerbread teeth. Either you’re about the holiday or you’re about the cash. Now which one is it?
CHRISTMAS: Uh…well….both?
THANKSGIVING: Not good enough snowscrape! I’ve been trashed by the whole "ooooohhh don’t trample over and kill me at Walmart" Black Friday crap for way too long. I’m not taking the rap for this one. Now I want some answers!
CHRISTMAS: Well..um..Maybe if you…have you thought about coming out on a… uhhh…a Monda…
THANKSGIVING: Shut the hell up Elfballs I didn’t say you could speak!
Menorah-Man over here is just waiting for a chance to kick your fat red ass. Don’t make me get him all lit up!
CHRISTMAS: But I thought you aske…
THANKSGIVING:
Enough talking chinrolls!…I am tired of being overlooked by your holier-than-thou–Jingle Jolly crap. You and your rancid HO’s better start shaping up or we’re gonna….
CHRISTMAS: Now wait just a merry second. Are you calling Mrs. C. a HO...?
THANKSGIVING: Shut your sugarplum pie hole you overdone fairy and go find yourself another way to suck the blood out of these lamb chops. Leave the real eats to the big dogs! And while you’re at it, get your tardload off my Friday coattails and start doing what you are supposed to do. Wait your damned turn you anxious bitch!
It’s not my fault your biggest day comes after Christmas. That’s what you get for starting in July! Shove all your damned returns! I’m tired of getting stuffed with all the bad press. Now go tell your leader to meet my demands and nobody’ll get hurt.
CHRISTMAS: Sssss sssuuuuree thhh thhhiiing Mr. T – whatever you want…
THANKSGIVING: That's better! About time a turkey gets a little respect around here.
Now you tell him I want…No you DEMAND that I….Make sure he better.....
Tell him I want the new SpongeBob Snuggie. I’m tired of freezing my ass off in that damn fagot parade.
Oh and tell him to lay off the Jenny Craig. He’s starting to lose his appeal.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Blogging Kingdom

Deep in the heart of the Blogging jungle, the female blogger sniffs the air for post sustenance. Sensing imminent danger, the male target backs off soundlessly into a corner keeping an unwavering eye on his foe.
The female blogger licks her claws in anticipation and waits patiently for the precise moment to attack.
At the first sign of the male’s weakness, she springs up at full speed, striking her prey in mid sentence….
“I want you to stop blogging about me” he grumbled.
“But Honey, you’re the star!” I embellished “and everybloggy loves you”
“It’s not normal. Nobody else’s husband has to watch every syllable that comes out of his mouth. What’s next? Details on our sex life?”
We have a sex life?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry. You wanted to have sex right?”
Purrrrr..Clack….Clack…. Purrrrr….Clack.
“Stop that typing, you’re driving me crazy!”
“Oh sorry sweetie. Bad can’t stop me if you tried habit. I’m listening now”
Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer. Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer. Look into his eyes. Forget about the computer.
“What the hell are you doing now?”
EEK! Oops…. “Um, nothing. I’m listening. I’m listening”
Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.
“You can’t keep journaling everything we talk about” Oh can’t I? “Something’s not right here. Can't you see it?”
What? Is there a typo?? OMG! Where?!! Where?!!
“I’m going out for a while”
“Hmm? Okay…Hope you find the file”
…The female blogger is satiated once more. Giving her creative limbs a stretch; she listens to the deep male growl that can be heard throughout the blogging jungle.
Hey! How'd this guy get in here?

Friday, November 6, 2009
Move Over Poker!

Contrary to what I might have led you guys to believe, my husband and I have a simply fabulous relationship. Fifty-fifty workload, healthy communication, love and affection, mutual admiration and respec….
Okay he’s gone.
Now what was I saying?
Oh yeah….Jack of Asses….
In this new marriage card game, a husband places down a card of blame for each incident that goes wrong in your life. Each card holds the power to hurl insults and blistering fire sticks (similar to Pokémon only bloodier).
The object of the game is to get the wife to screech and wail until she appears to be a raving lunatic so that social services come to your home to investigate.
In this game, the blame card is always wild.
It can be played for money issues, economic woes, sagging asses and body odor.
If the husband religiously follows the rules of the game, as most do, chances are he will be victorious in placing the wife in a straight jacket for all time and be free to tour the country on the Jack of Asses Circuit.
This game can be played over and over and over and over …..And be suffered enjoyed for years to come.
Disclaimer: If you find yourself losing your sanity too early in the game, chances are you have already lost the round to a real pro and might as well give up.
In these extreme cases, shut your mouth and concede to his skill and go load up your arsenal.
Ages 18 and up
Ammo not included
Warning: small explosive pieces may cause choking…if you’re lucky.






