Nomen Est Omen

And The Winner Is...

Because it is Memorial Day I do not feel like thinking up my own topic. Therefore I am going to swipe an idea from this guy and then ask you to tell me what you would do.

Before I begin, I would like to say a little something about Maine's website. There happen to be a number of humorous websites out there for us all to read and some of them are funny, some of them are ok and some have been ruined when the main writer decided to turn the blog into a group blog adding authors I never found entertaining at all. I'm quite particular about who I will endorse as a "very humorous" blog anymore because of this.

Then one day I found Maine's site. (Thanks JJ) I have read through his entire archives and there has not be one, single entry that has not made me laugh out loud at some point during my reading. I don't mean a mere chuckle. I don't mean a smile spread across my face. I mean the guy is so fucking funny that I actually laugh out loud. Usually it's a guffaw more than a melodious laugh but the point is, he's got it. So, I highly suggest you start reading him.

Moving on, some of what he was talking about today was winning or coming into millions of dollars. It appears that Maine and I share the same mind set when it comes to what we would do with ourselves if we did find ourselves wealthy misers.

I've heard the same things he has, and I'll bet you've heard these things as well. People, (pessimists as far as I'm concerned), will make ridiculous claims that I'll get bored. I'll want to work. I'll find life harder should I ever be a millionaire. Idiots. I think those people are boring, uncomfortable with themselves, need constant outside stimulation and don't have the creativity necessary to fully enjoy millions of dollars and therefore should never be allowed to win money, have money willed to them, handed to them, discover it, whatever. The only riches they deserve are their monotonous lives.

The very first thing I would do is ensure that the money cleared my account before I started celebrating. Once that was a sure thing, I would spend the first year as a millionaire seated in bed. I would hire one person to do any future hiring for me. They would hire someone to fluff and prop my pillows on demand, clean my house, pay any bills and restock my Oreo and milk supply as well as other goods. I would watch television all day long and eat. I would not answer emails, the phone or the door.

The next thing I would do is buy the entire building I live in and get rid of all the noisy, messy tenants in the building, (namely the ones with the screaming children). I would not move as I like where I live. I may add in some little things here and there but I actually like my apartment...which would of course now be my condo as I would change them into condos and charge ridiculous amounts for them. I can do that where I live...people are suckers because of the water.

After that I would convince, (meaning, buy my way in to), the local police station that I would do the city a great service if they would give me a badge and a ticket book and I would sit outside on the front steps of my building and write a ticket for every flaming asshole who blares their bass as they sit at the stoplight just outside my building. I would not hire a cop to do this because I want to be the one who hands them that ticket with an evil sneer across my face watching them stutter and try to talk their way out of it. Wrong! You think you're Snoop Dogg? You get a ticket asswipe! Eventually word would get around and people would start being the hell quiet around my living area.

Then what I would do is work in several restaurants, hotels and bars again. This time, however, I would not have to remain quiet and take their shit because I would not have that little voice in the back of my head telling me to bite my tongue, I need this job, gotta pay rent, want to finish school. I would lay into those rude, demanding, obnoxious customers whenever the mood struck me. I would tell them that the customer is not always right, that most of the problems they are encountering are their own damn fault for not researching what they can and cannot have or do, that the nickel they left on the counter after I served them drinks all night can find its way straight up their ass and that they need to calm their spawn down.

Since I know I would be fired from every single job, I would see how many jobs I could get fired from before tiring of this game. In the meantime, I have vocalized what many of us wish we could do and say but cannot or don't because we are at the mercy of money and maybe some people in this world would learn a thing or two about being considerate of people around them.

How in the hell is that boring?

Eventually people would keep the noise down, have consideration for their fellow man and start exhibiting manners. So you can see that making me a millionaire is actually good for society. I'll fight those battles for you. You may email me and let me know how much you're going to donate toward my cause, (the cause of making me a millionaire), and I'll be sure to privately thank you once I reach that goal. Remember, I'm doing this for you.

Now, I'm curious, if you found yourself a millionaire tomorrow, what would you do? (Besides give it to me.)

Weapon Of Mass Discomfort

I have the perfect remedy for catching terrorists and insurgents. Why hasn't anyone thought of this before! It's fail proof!

What is some of the worst pain you have ever experienced in your life? Think carefully. Think cold. Think blinding pain.

Think convenience store.

That's right. The horrifying headache you get from drinking your Slurpee too fast. So my solution to the war on terror is to erect 7-11's in their countries on every other corner. Think about it. They would totally drink it as long as you tell them Allah requests it. It's hotter than hell where they live and they would welcome a cool, refreshing, sugary, fruit flavored drink. Then, about 30 seconds to one minute after they start drinking one, we swoop in and take them all prisoner. They won't be able to fight back because they will be incapacitated with brain freeze.

Hot damn I'm a genius.

[link found on Cruel Site]

What Am I Missing?

It seems Shaq has been doing a little studying and working with some of the police in the Miami area in relation to his future desired employment. You see, he has decided that when he gets done playing basketball, he's going to be an undercover cop.

Um. Where?

He's 7 fricken feet tall for one and for another, he's Shaq, people. Even if you don't follow basketball, which I do not because it bores the ever loving hell out of me, you know who the hell Shaq is. He doesn't exactly blend in. You know what? If you are a criminal and you get caught in a sting operation where Shaq is the undercover agent? You are far, far too stupid and should go to jail an extra 20 years just for being an idiot.

No segue because I don't feel like thinking one up.

In Canada, (our friendly neighbors to the north who love to claim that everything is right with their country and systems of government...pshyah, right), apparently if you are suicidal, you can only be so during the hours of 9-5. Because that's when most people get suicidal isn't it? Sure! No one downs a bottle of booze in one sitting, scarfs a few pills and then contemplates their life in the darkness of their living room at 3 in the morning. No, they all do it in the happy sunshiny daytime!

I can just see it now. Prince Edward Island. A lone individual has been sitting in their apartment all afternoon, contemplating suicide. They pick up the phone to call the suicide hotline. The time is 4:55pm:

Depressed Person: Sob! My life sucks! Everyone hates me! I should go eat some worms! Then I'll kill myself because I ate worms and everyone hates me! Sniff. I'll show them! I'll just kill myself! They'll be sorry then won't they? Assholes! Life sucks! I hate everyone and everyone hates me! God I need to talk to someone.

::dials phone::

Canadian Suicide Hotline: Welcome to Prince Edward Island's Suicide Hotline. For suicides, press 1. For all other inquiries, press 2 or stay on the line and an operator will assist you shortly.

[beep]

"....Oh Mandy, you came and you gave without taking......"

Depressed Person: OH MY GOD!

Five minutes later....

Canadian Suicide Hotline: Thank you for holding unfortunately our business is currently closed for the day. Please call back Monday through Friday between the hours of 9am to 5pm and someone will assist you. If this is a real emergency, please hang up and dial the police. Thank you and have a nice day! [click]

Depressed Person: BANG!

Brilliant! Bloody fucking brilliant! Bravo Canada! And do you know why Canada is doing this? Because the government doesn't think there are enough people threatening suicide to warrant the need for a 24 hour hotline. And they say Americans are heartless.

Speaking of disgusting displays, I see that I'm not the only one who thought that appearance by Tom cruise on the Oprah Winfrey show within the last week was embarrassing to watch. I don't normally watch Oprah for the simple fact that most of the time I just am not around to see it. (I do think she does a great job getting some much needed messages out and it's way cool that she fulfills dreams for people.)

However, I found myself watching it one afternoon and there was Tom Cruise. I've never been a fan of Tom Cruise. I think he's an idiot, frankly and he's a freaking nut job for believing in Scientology. Still I watched. Why did I watch? Because the commercials right before hand showed him acting like a comlete and utter dork.

I was not let down. During the entire show he acted like a buffoon. He was falling to his knees, clenching his fist in an "Oh YEAH!" gesture and basically acting like he'd just had sex for the very first time in his life. He did indeed jump around on Oprah's couch and honestly? I wondered if he was on drugs.

You see, Tom claims that he is just so, oh so, so very much in love with Katie Holmes that he can't control himself. I think it's great when someone finds love and is giddy and happy but show a modicum of restraint! Having said that, I've always thought that the pairing was really odd and a little disgusting considering how much older than her he is. I know, age doesn't matter but what the hell? He went from classy Nicole to cutie Penelope to kinda homely, barely out of her teens, Katie?

And he's jumping around on couches in front of millions of people? I was embarrassed for him, the people watching, myself, Oprah, Katie, everyone. It truly was a sickening display. And it appears some PR people are agreeing...

HE's leaping on couches! He's smooching for the cameras! He's swearing to Reader's Digest, "I love women"! He's . . . " . . . nutso!" says an A-list celeb publicist who can't believe the embarrassing display Tom Cruise has been putting on to hawk his little-believed romance with Katie Holmes. "The Oprah segment made me want to puke." ...

..."He's become a joke"

"I've heard of over-the-top, but there's no top here. This is as phony as anything Hollywood could create, and he's probably gonna announce his engagement to
Pamela Anderson next week. I get the Oprah audience...but it just smacks of phoniness. It cuts into his value on every level."

This publicist notes that Cruise's behavior might be less cringe-worthy if he were 17.

"I hate to be cynical but, past a certain age, you don't get that in love. I mean, jumping on couches? It seems like he's off his rocker. There's something meshuga here."

I completely agree. Nonetheless, while it really was nauseating to see, the fact that I do not like Tom Cruise and think he sucks total ass as an actor, I would be very happy if this totally destroyed his career and he was never allowed to be in a movie again. See? There's always a bright side to everything.

From The Notepad

Over the years I've learned to carry around either a tape recorder or a notepad to jot down random ideas or thoughts or observations because I will forget them if I do not. Tonight, while I sit leashed to a phone on auto re-dial, I thought I'd share those little notes with you. Perhaps I'll make it an ongoing series. I mean, it is the point of having a blog is it not? I think my ideas and opinions are so incredible that I simply must relay them to the entire blogoverse. In fact, it needs to be read by the entire inernet, spread all across the super information highway because people have led otherwise unfulfilled lives before I started writing. I see you're nodding your head in agreement. Splendid.

For starters, I will admit that I am currently doing something I've never done before nor thought I would. As stated, I am attached to a phone. I've been carrying this phone around since 9PM. This phone has been on automatic redial since 9PM. It is now 11:13PM. What in the name of all that is holy am I doing?

I'm trying to fricken vote for my choice to win American Idol.

I know I'm not 12 anymore and should spend my time far more constructively but I've always employed the idea that one who does not vote has no right to bitch about the outcome. However, at this point, I'm about to say, "Or as long as you made a concerted effort to vote you can bitch later on" because this really is ridiculous that I can't get through for one little tone that counts my vote. It's not like I talk to anyone right? I mean I'm assuming here but surely that's how they do it. You call up, a computer on the other end says, "Beep" and your vote is counted. I'm giving it another 1/2 an hour and then Carrie is on her own. Sorry if you don't win, babe. I tried.

Because I was feeling rather lazy after the show aired, I proceeded to shift my prone position on the couch only slightly to change channels. I got all the way to UPN before I accidentally dropped the remote on to the floor. As it was too far to reach without actually exerting any energy, I found myself staring at the horror that is Britney's new show.

This is like watching a train wreck about to happen. This is watching trailer trash get all dolled up and money thrown at her but no matter how much money you throw at trailer trash, they remain trailer trash. The show is nothing more than excerpts of personal video camera footage of Britney during her down time while hanging out with now husband, Kevin. It's like getting a sneak peek into a 12 year old redneck's diary. A lot of it was in night vision and we got a large dosage of such cutting edge camera angles leading us to view straight up Britney's nostrils before watching her make out with Kevin on the tour bus. Most of it was Britney posing for the camera and 98% of it was phony ass crap. I also noticed how Britney couldn't decide if she wanted a southern twang to her voice or to talk like she does in interviews.

It truly was a disaster and I'm probably going to suffer traumatizing nightmares for some time. I'll see green and suddenly a giant nostril will appear before me, flaring menacingly. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, two pairs of lips will start slapping spit all over the place and if I have any good Karma at all, at this point I'll wake up screaming.

I decided, once that was over that maybe being such a sloth tonight was not in my best interest and reached for the remote before I had to suffer through another half an hour and the new show "Bad Girls Guide". I saw about 1 minute of that show and I'm afraid if you like it, it's not going to be on air much longer. It really sucks.

I then found myself on a martial arts show. Now, let me try to build this for you. When you have watched martial arts shows in the past you know they have been dubbed into English and the words never quite match the mouths of the characters but the dialogue, while certainly not gifted on any level is at least entertaining. It is a little distracting but you can usually zone it out and enjoy the art of the fights. Ok, take that and imagine the martial arts show dubbed over in Spanish. Yes. So I'm sitting there watching far east martial arts with characters who supposedly speak Spanish. There were a lot of "Ai-yee", and "Vamanos" and "undeles" going on. I found it rather unsettling. Much the same feeling I found myself having while watching Star Trek dubbed over in German when I lived there.

Tonight only cemented the theory for me that tv execs think we are really stupid and that my idea of picking up a book most evenings instead of watching t.v. was actually bordering on genius.

Now, I am giving this voting thing about 15 more minutes before I say "hell with it" and forget ever trying to participate in pop culture again.

Beauty Queen

We've all had our days. Days where we're not feeling particularly attractive or just feeling blah about things. Hell, some of you could be experiencing those types of feelings today. I hate to see my readers suffer so as a public service, I will be linking to two photos which will guarantee to instantly make you look like the stunning hot toddy that you are.

**You are more smokin' than you think**

Exhibit A

Whether or not he is found guilty of the charges, he is most certainly guilty of sight pollution. I could not serve on that jury. Seriously. My answer to the judge would be truthful: "Your honor, nothing his lawyer says will sway my opinion about his guilt simply because his hair is so hideous that I've already convinced myself he's gone mad."

Exhibit B

This is still yet undetermined but it supposedly shows up in the Ohio sex offender registry. When I went there I saw the entry but the image wouldn't come up. That doesn't mean anything though. They may have taken it down due to the surge in traffic. Looks pretty authentic though.

So you see? You, my little pets, are gorgeous! You are brilliantly beautiful. Sexy, sultry and steamy. Because you are not them. Now don't you feel better?

My work here is done.

Delicious Soldiers

Norwegian soldiers serving in Kosovo have decided to make a video about the region and issues to the tune of "Kokomo". It's actually very good and rather entertaining.

Sigh...I sure do love men in uniform.

Interesting Enough

How boring is your blog? Do you talk about day to day stuff going on? Do you treat it like a little diary and talk in code to the 7 people who understand what you're saying while the rest of the internet has no clue what the hell you mean? Do you talk about how poorly you're doing in class, how you just cleaned your floors two days ago and how your sister's ex-boyfriend is there to pick up some fishing poles?

Pretty boring shit right? So damn boring that an entry just like that helped to catch the blogger's own killer.

A doomed Queens man's chilling computer entry led cops to a suspect who allegedly robbed and killed the victim and his sister to finance a return to China, police said yesterday.

Here's the last entry. Please take note that he wrote about the ex-boyfriend being in his apartment. He wrote this at 5:05pm. By 9:30 that night, both he and his sister had been stabbed repeatedly to death by the ex who had come over to get his "fishing poles". Here is the picture of the murdered blogger. Page number 3 could possibly be the sister but there is no way for me to verify that.

I think from here on out, no matter how fucking boring it seems to the rest of you, I'm going to be writing on my site when someone comes over whether it's the cable guy to a date. You never know when your very boring entry will make headlines across the country.

For The Boys

Many guy bloggers will tell you that just about any blog or journal can be interesting, even if it's about knitting or the story could be the next Lifetime Monday night movie just as long as there is at least one shot of breasts.

It would seem that quite a few girl bloggers and journalers have picked this message up and display either erotically drawn cartoon hotties or snap a photo of someone's cleavage and slap it up on their site.

I've always thought that it's best to keep what's under the clothes a mystery to be solved by the right person but I have decided to succumb to pressure this one time.

Today I will be showing photos of breasts. They are not my breasts nor do I know whose they are but, guys want pictures of the upper portion of the female anatomy, unclothed, who am I to deny them that pleasure while surfing around here?

So, without further ado, I present to you: Plastic Surgical Disasters.

Remember these the next time you say, "Oh breast implants are perfectly fine. I don't mind them at all!"

Random Thoughts

Most of you can't take one more day of my whining about my near death experience with illness so I've decided to treat you to the myriad of thoughts that soar around in my brain, crashing into each other and basically causing a big, unorganized mess. It's a belated Spring Cleaning of the mind and you get to watch. Aren't I thoughtful?

**Is anyone else still floored by the idea of The Weather Channel? I love weather just like anyone else and I'm curious to see the forecast for the day or week along with my fellow citizen but honestly...24 hours of weather? You get a weather update for your area every 10 minutes, (Local on the 8's or whatever their snazzy little tagline is) and you get the national weather report for hours a day where the only change is who's reporting it. Or am I missing something when I look out my window? Does weather change that often that I need 24 hour access to it?

Weatherman: Hi everyone, I'm Bob. Today across the plains there will be a slight chance of rain, and in the south, you guys will be enjoying a beautiful 80 degree day with slight breezes.

Anchor: Thank you Bob. Now let's go to weather.

Weatherman: Hi, Bob here. It has been 5 seconds since I last saw you and boy do I have some updates. In the plains there has been a report of 6 raindrops and in the south the temperature has soared from 80 to 80.5. I could repeat the forecast for the upcoming week but that really is pointless since we can only have a three hour window of accuracy. Back to you.

Anchor: Thank you Bob. In other news, it looks like the plains will be experiencing a slight chance of showers....

Ok, ok, so they have that really cool show called Storm Stories and that sucks down a few hours but that still leaves you with 21-22 hours of non stop weather reports. This is like watching the TV Guide channel all day long thinking that if you look away for a moment, the line up might suddenly change.

**Why is it when I look my absolute worst, say I'm sick or have a sunburn or am rewarded with the world's largest zit or even better, a stunning and gorgeous cold sore, all the best looking men come out of hiding? Yet when I look radiant and smokin' hot they are nowhere to be found? Is this some sort of cosmic joke?

**If everyone really does enjoy walking around the house in their underwear, why don't we just do it all the time? Imagine how much more relaxed and humble we would be. I think it's the answer to world peace. Check out the photo of Saddam in his underwear on the Sun's front page. Not such a scary tyrant anymore is he?

**One time, (at band camp), when I was a kid, my brother and I decided to find the answer to the question that has plagued us all for decades. We got a tootsie roll tootsie pop and counted just how many licks it does take to get to the center. I can assure you it is more than three but I am unfortunately not at liberty to divulge the answer. The point of the thought is, however, do you think that maybe I should call my mother up and inform her that this is what happens when you don't buy your kid the annually requested pony? Instead of being out in the fresh air and learning about compassion, responsibility and care of another living thing, I was sitting at the dining room table licking hard candy while my brother made slash marks with a pencil on a piece of paper for every swipe of the tongue. Do you think this constitutes as neglect?

**Why are scary stories less scary in the daytime?

**If a tree fell in a forest, far, far away and no one was around to hear it, would anyone read this blog?

Alright, tour is over. Get out of my mind please.

[link to saddam and his briefs found on The Churning]

Survey Says....

I'm a babe.

At least that was the popular consensus of liquor store clerks tonight. While I do clean up rather well, I am still recovering from my near death illness and hacking up a lung while the sickness drains out of me. In fact, I treated that clerk to a beautiful rendition of, "I'm Coughing Into My Hand In An Effort To Display Manners Even Though In About 10 Seconds I'll Be Presenting Money To You With That Same Body Part Now Splattered With Disease".

I had on no make up, there was a shine on my face that came from spending the last two days in a knit hat/scarf/sweater/sweats cocoon underneath my bed covers as I made a feeble attempt to sweat the sickeness out of my system. My hair was flat and my breath considerably less than minty fresh.

In other words, I looked like death that had been microwaved for approximately 30 seconds. I walked up to the counter, placed my purchases upon it and the very first thing the clerk says is:

"Awww! You're beautiful!"

Sincere? Sure sounded that way.

Just a line? Just flirting? Trying to hit on me? Does he say this to all the girls? Maybe I looked so pathetic that he felt sorry for me. Maybe he enjoys his job a little too much and had hit the bottle between customers.

Who knows and who cares. What I do know is that he made my night with that one little compliment. In fact, that silly little compliment made me feel like a super model the whole walk home. That is, until I tripped over the bathroom rug on the way to admire myself in the mirror.

Superstar Genius

On today's episode of Britney says, Britney speaks about being with child:

"Eating for two is so much fun; I get to eat lots and lots!"

Her brilliance is blinding.

**Fun Activity Alert!!**

Hiya Kids! Carefully cut along the dotted line and present this, (along with the Mariah Carey statement about how she wishes she were as thin as the starving children in Africa), in your argument to your parents on why you don't need to go to college because you're going to be a pop star instead! It's guaranteed to drive your point home! And remember, don't run with the scissors!

Deathbeds and DJ's

I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for your deep concern about my absence the past few days. The hordes of email questioning my whereabouts were touching.

Oh wait, no one cared. No one cared that I was on my deathbed, dying of an illness that cleverly disguised itself as the common cold/flu nor that I am still half deaf from it and probably damaged my esophagus along the way. Poor me.

Anyway, before I go back and continue the fierce battle against death, good and evil clashing in an effort to rescue this obvious angel from the grasps of all that is unholy, here's something else that no one cares about: Where eligible, the fact that you're a DJ.

I've worked in bars before and have frequented many bars in my lifetime and while I was treated well by the DJ's working in my bar, I still noticed how uppity they acted towards patrons as if they were celebrities. I guess it never occurred to them that they are nothing more than album spinners and the fact that they haul their equipment out of a beat up 1984 Honda seems to escape their fantasy lives. It's something I've always wanted to write about, pretentious, snotty DJ's but as always, you wait too long and someone, or more than one, will beat you to it.

So here are my thoughts on DJ's even though they were written by someone else. Trust me, indeed nobody really does give a damn that you are a DJ so take out those ridiculous contacts, realize that swim goggles doubling as eyeglasses actually make you look like a fucking retard, settle down on the chains and attitude and just spin the damn records.

I realize that there are really stupid people who go out to clubs and harrass the DJ while they are busy working by asking them to play their "favorite" song next, (despite the fact that their supposed "favorite" song is what is currently playing), or demanding things from the DJ or just being all out pests....that happens frequently. However, I also know that DJs like to piss and whine about how hard their life is while secretly soaking up the smattering of attention they receive and allow such incidents to go to their head, swelling their ego.

Yes we need DJs and yes we appreciate them bringing us great music but as the post from the link says, you are not rock stars, you are not celebrities, you are not the cream of the crop, end all, be all, ultimate cool guy "in da house". You're a DJ. That's it. Get off your high turntable and realize that 99% of you are just employees of a bar or club. Nothing more.

Of course the same thing could be said for some bloggers out there. Just because 1/4 of a percent of the population reads your site doesn't mean you are the shit. Do us all a favor and get the hell over yourself. Which, I just discovered, the same blogger who wrote about hoity toity DJs just wrote my thoughts about bloggers too. Adore Me! I'm A Blogger Now!. Gottdamnit, this keeps up my future posts will all be, "read this guy's site for what I've been thinking and wish I would have said first". I hate when people are more clever than me. It pisses me off. Now I have to admire someone else besides myself. That's unacceptable.

Whatever, it's time for me to crawl back in bed and feel sorry for myself because I am sick and no one cares and that guy I linked to has invaded my brain and written about things I've wanted to write about or have written about, way better than me and it looks like he will continue to do so. Fuck it, I'll just consume a gallon of ice cream and feel better tomorrow.

There's Something To Be Said For Procrastination

Crap. Crap, crap, crappity, crap!

Why can't I put things off like a normal person? Why must I always get everything taken care of "right away"? I just moved and one of the things I wanted to do was to get a Costco membership to start saving some money. I get all set up and take care of applying for membership almost immediately. As expected, I got my card in the mail 7-10 days later and I was all thrilled to get in there and buy in bulk.

But I'm an idiot. An eeeeediot!

If I had waited a mere two weeks to do this, I could have saved myself 35 smackeroos for my first year's membership as I was a new member. You see, Costco is having a promotion for new members where they can get their membership for the first year for $10 instead of the usual $45.

Two. Weeks.

Okay so $35 doesn't sound like a lot of money but that's my electricity bill for one month. Or a tank of gas. Or a night on the town. Or a nice dinner. But nooooooo. I had to go and be all efficient.

Fine. If I can't have that savings, maybe some of you can. Follow the link, open the PDF file, print it out, take the coupon to your nearest Costco, hand them $10, get your photo taken and proceed to buy $35 worth of stuff while laughing in my general direction. Sigh.

Take A Vacation In Jail

There you are, a parent raising your kids while your lazy spouse doesn't lift a finger to help you out. Oh how you wish you could take a vacation, go on strike, just get away from them. I mean, you're tired! You put in a lot of hours at work to bring home the bacon, you put in equal hours at home raising your rug rats and tending to your other half who may as well be your fourth child. Damnit! Where's Calgon when you need it? You need a break but it just doesn't seem possible.

Ah, but it is my frettered pet, it IS! All you have to do is get married to someone who will one day illegally park your car, get a fine, fail to pay it and hide the information from you. Time will go by and you will get a post in the mail stating that you now owe five times the amount of the original ticket and if you don't pay, you, yes you, because it was your car, will be hauled off to jail! You can have that much needed and desired vacation after all!

A mother-of-three is to spend three months in jail instead of paying a parking fine to get a rest from her 'demanding' children and 'lazy' husband.

Maria Brunner waved to neighbours as police drove her away for not paying a £50 fine that had risen to £2,500 because it had been left unpaid.

"She opened the door and seemed really happy, if not relieved, to see us before asking us to take her away and lock her up," said one of the arresting officers from Poing in Germany.

The 38-year-old said she had had enough of scraping a living for her family as a cleaner every day while "my lazy husband sits on his backside doing nothing".

She added: "As long as I get food and a hot shower everyday, I don't mind being sent to jail. It means I can finally get some rest and relaxation without having to cook, wash and clean for everyone."

Brunner said she only found out she owed so much money when she got a letter from public prosecutors saying she would be jailed if she did not repay it immediately.

She says her unemployed husband, 35, hid the original fine from her that had been sent after he parked badly while driving her car.

"At first I was really worried about it, because I knew we did not have so much money, but then I looked at it as a chance to get away for a while," she said.

A police officer added: "She repeatedly thanked us for arresting her and smiled and waved as she was driven off to jail."

See? Hard work does pay off.

So Irritating

You know what I hate? I'll tell you what I hate.

I hate it when you go to the store and buy a mop, deal with the stares by those who act like they've never seen someone carry a mop before, get home, all happy and looking forward to your clean, shiny floors, clean the floor over the course of a month with your wonderful new mop, use out the mop head, go back to the store to replace it only to find that those bastards don't carry the replacement heads.

You just know they're laughing at you during your initial full mop purchase:

"There goes another sucker! They'll be back. They'll have to buy a whole new mop. A hahahahahaha!"

It's a conspiracy I tell you.

I Can't Believe That Came Out Of My Mouth!

Today I went to the dentist.

::blood curdling screams::

I know! This is a big thing because I hate going to the dentist. In fact, it has been proven that 9-15% of Americans are so afraid of the dentist that they will not go. I'm one of them. Even though I'm terrified of losing all of my teeth and sporting dentures, I'm petrified of the dentist. So petrified that I haven't been in 8 years. I keep my mouth really clean and brush every day like a good little patient so it's not like my teeth are gross or anything. Or so I thought.

First of all, well....actually, I should say that you don't want to be eating while you read this entry. Ok, back to my first of all. First of all, dentists have made a lot of improvements in 8 years and especially since I was a kid when my fear of the dentist began to fester and grow.

See, I hate sitting in that chair, helpless, while they scrape your teeth with an iron hook and shove a drill down to the nerve endings in your gums. It feels like they are pulling your teeth straight out of your face and sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts a lot. A LOT! Also, every time I go it seems that something more needs to be done. I can never get a simple cleaning. No, that would be far too easy. I let the dentist know this when I made the appointment and they were prepared for an extremely nervous patient. The hygenist assured me all would be well and told me not to worry.

I arrived early, filled out the paperwork and then found myself being led to the chair of doom. She proceeded to stick plastic and film inside my mouth to take x-rays. Then she took an overall x-ray, panning my entire mouth while I stood at a machine and stared into a mirror at myself biting on a plastic pipe. Why do they have that mirror there? As if I weren't uncomfortable enough now I gotta stare at myself looking like a dork?

We went back to the cleaning room, (the, "Oh we are so ripping all of your teeth out because you don't floss and there's nothing you can do about it! You can't escape. Muhaahhahahahaha ha ha!" room), and she had me swish flouride around in my mouth. Following the flouride rinse I was given a baking soda, water cleaning and then she numbed up my gums with some sort of gel. Then came the dreaded iron hook. I knew it! They want to kill me!

The hygenist, sensing my growing panic, tried to soothe me by informing me of what she would be doing, how the tool worked and showed me what it was all about by doing it to one tooth first. It appears the iron hook has been altered over the years and now it sprays your mouth like a pressure washer, dislodging plaque which gets sucked into the spit vaccuum dangling out of your mouth. This dentist didn't use a drill because of this tool and while the iron hook is still used as it is attached to this pressure washer type thing, (I think they call it a waterlase), I felt very little pain. Really the only place I felt any pain was when she was cleaning my top front teeth, (because the gums are more sensitive there), so she glopped more of the numbing gel on and I barely felt a thing.

I was horrified at the amount of plaque that had built up. No other dentist I've ever been to has shown me just how much plaque they have removed. Today I got to see. The spit vaccuum head was like a spiral so the plaque stuck to it and when she pulled the first one out of my mouth, she showed it to me. I had no idea what the gunk was until she told me that that was what she was cleaning off of my teeth! OH MY GOD!

I was so stunned after that, so disgusted with myself, in such shock that I could have so much plaque. I brush all the time! I use Listerene! What the hell! By the time she finished cleaning I was on my third spit vaccuum! Holy shit!

She finished up and gave me a goodies bag of toothpaste for sensitive teeth, two toothbrushes, some picks and showed me how to even better brush my teeth. See part of the problem is that I have a hard time reaching my back teeth because the toothpaste makes me gag. Really bad. So bad in fact that some mornings I simply cannot finish brushing my teeth because I'm too busy gagging and dry heaving. I was told to combat that I should dry brush my gums first and then brush my teeth with toothpaste. Aah! Ok!

She handed me a mirror to check out my teeth and they were pretty. Of course because I had not gone to the dentist in 8 years, some of the plaque had pushed my teeth a little bit so that and age caused me to have small gaps in the bottom front teeth where I never had any before. Now she says it's hardly noticeable but to me they may as well be as wide as the Grand Canyon so I'm a little self conscious now. But at least they're clean.

Of course, as always, I could not just have a simple cleaning and be done with it. Hell no. Murphy rears his ugly head. It's my own fault for not going to the dentist in 8 years so they want me to come back in a month to finish up any cleaning they might have to do. Need the gums to settle down before they can see if more needs to be done. Also? The dentist himself wants to take another look at one of my wisdom teeth that I have been putting off getting looked at. It's only caused me pain two times in the past year so I've used that as my excuse not to go but the dentist wants to look again in a month to see if it needs to be yanked.

Fuck.

I also have to get fitted for a nightguard, (Friday), since my other one disappeared. Getting a nightguard is no big deal though except for how freaking expensive it is. Unfortunately I have to have one and despite the fact that someone threw my other nightguard away, they never offered to replace it so I get to pay for a new one. It's now about $200 more than my old one.

Fuck.

This is turning out to be very expensive because insurance companies only cover so much and they refuse to cover nightguards. The idiots think that nightguards are cosmetic. How stupid are they? Have they ever worn a nightguard? There isn't a damn thing cosmetic about that at all. You look like someone punched you in the lip and you lisp when you wear it. Yah, real cosmetic. It's preventative but insurance companies are moronic tightwads who dont' want to pay for it. It's going to cost me $415. JFC! It's worth it though because it prevents, (note the key word: prevents), me from grinding my teeth down which would cause me to have to get crowns one day.

Anyway I did it. I faced my fear of the dentist. I made the appointment, didn't cancel it, (despite how so very tempting it was to do so), and I pulled through. I'm so proud of myself. And you know what? If you can find a dentist who uses a dental laser and waterlase instead of shots and a drill, you're going to discover that the dentist isn't so bad after all. So if you're scared, find one of those and don't put it off. Trust me, I'm the biggest wuss when it comes to the dentist and I assure you, it's not that bad anymore.

In fact, I was so relieved that I gave the hygenist a hug when it was all over.

Sold!

Remember a few days ago I told you the horrifying story of trying to teach my cats to use the toilet? In that post I was complaining about cat litter and how clumping litter doesn't work, stinks, makes a general mess and one cat seems not only to play around in the litter box but also relishes in making wall art on the sides of the box.

It appeared I was not alone in my cat litter woes so I decided to take one for the team, spend a little extra money and try out the new, (somewhat), cat litter crystals. Honestly, the only reason I never tried it in the past was because of the high price and I just couldn't find it in myself to spend that kind of money on shiny blue and white rocks that I was positive wouldn't actually work the way they said they would.

I was wrong.

I purchased a container of Tidy Cats Crystals for Multiple Cats, (as I'm blessed with more than one hairball machine), to see if it was indeed what cats would prefer.

The first thing the instructions say is to mix some of this litter with their current litter and to gradually up the amount over a three week period. Since most of us don't have that kind of money, I did it for one day. Right off the bat I was convinced I had wasted money because one of my cats took one whiff of it and ran off, peeing all over my bathroom rug later on. (A guest had left the bathroom door open and I was unaware of this until too late.)

The next day, I poured out the entire contents of the litter, gave it a good scrub, (like I do every two days any way), and emptied the remainder of the crystals jug into the cat litter pan. Seemed a hell of a lot of litter to be pouring in a pan when I was just going to have to empty it in two days but that's what they said to do, so I did it. (It came out to 1.5" of litter in the pan.)

I stirred the crystals, per the instructions and then waited. While I waited I read the rest of the back of the jug and noticed that this litter may actually not be so expensive in the long run after all. For one cat, this ONE jug was to last up to 30 days. For two, 10-15 days and for three, 7-10 days. Wow! But does it actually work?

Yes folks. Yes it does.

First, there is absolutely, positively, NO SMELL! You know how with normal litter when it gets used you can smell it? Smells like ammonia? It's disgusting and if bad enough can make your eyes burn? That doesn't happen with the crystals. No. Smell. None. I even went so far as to put my face right down into the litter bowl and took a big whiff, (the things I do for you), and still, no smell.

Second, the issue of trailing cat litter all over the house is now greatly reduced. Of course they still trail a little but it doesn't get nearly as far, staying relatively close to the actual litter pan and it's a hell of a lot easier to clean up as these are like little rocks, not sand. Major plus.

Third, when they say the waste dehydrates into a solid form? They are not lying. This is not like the clumping litter that stays wet and falls apart when you try to scoop it out. This stuff, the "water" waste, literally dehydrates leaving you with a solid, hard clump to flick out of the box with a scooper. Once you've removed the waste (daily) from the box, just stir the crystals around and you are done.

It totally works people. The only negative thing I could find about this product was with the trailing issue: Now again, the litter doesn't trail nearly as far so that remains the plus but the negative is that if you walk around your house in bare feet and step on the crystal rocks, depending on the sensitivity of your feet, this can be slightly painful. If you are used to walking around outside in bare feet, (which I am not), you may not even notice. That's the only negative thing.

The price seems a little high when you first purchase it but you won't smell a thing, you won't have to work so hard to keep the litter clean and you don't have to give a full change to the litter anywhere from a week to an entire month depending on how many cats you have. So the price is fully justified as it comes out to pretty much the same cost to you as regular clumping litter in addition to the added freedom and peace of mind that when guests come over, they won't smell cat litter upon walking in the door.

I have a rating system similar to many people's rating systems:

*-crap ass product/poor customer service, will never buy again
**-had a few good points but mostly sucked, will never buy again
***-had an equal share of good and bad points, maybe if desperate will buy again
****-pretty darn good product, service was probably decent, will look into buying again
*****-awesome product, does just what it says it will do, great customer service, price is right, totally will buy again.

This product gets a 5 star rating from me. Now get out of here. Go buy it. Next week I'll tell you how to litter train that small dog of yours.

Another "Duh!" Study

You either succumb to it or you get angry on a daily basis but the fact remains, traffic sucks. Many people will claim that their city is the worst by far when it comes to traffic problems but in reality, a lot of cities have issues. Of course, we have known this for a long time. We, the ones who drive in those cities every day, know this isn't exactly news.

Yet, someone got paid to conduct a study on traffic and concluded that traffic congestion is worse now than it has been in the past. DUH!

...Gridlock is getting worse. Congestion delayed travelers 79 million more hours and wasted 69 million more gallons of fuel in 2003 than in 2002, the Texas Transportation Institute's 2005 Urban Mobility Report found.

Overall in 2003, there were 3.7 billion hours of travel delay and 2.3 billion gallons of wasted fuel for a total cost of more than $63 billion...

They site the causes to cities who refuse to build more roads, wider roads, more lanes or improving operations as some cities have the belief that if they don't do that, people won't drive.

Give me a break. There are several other factors that cause these problems and it would behoove these cities to start paying attention to the average Joe who complains about the traffic. The average Joes are the ones who can tell you what is causing the problems and have suggestions in ways to combat these problems.

Yes, yes, so they don't have enough roads or lanes. A lot of cities also don't do a very good job of timing their lights. Time your lights right according to average traffic flow and you can cut down some time right there. Several cities have poorly designed exit/entrance ramps as well. There can be on ramps that are extremely short; offering very little time to get up to the speed of the traffic on the freeway and this causes problems. Some cities have their exit ramps on the left hand side of the road. Totally stupid. Now you have two "slow" lanes because of this. You also cause a lot of unnecessary lane changing when you have exit ramps on both sides of the road, especially for people from out of town.

Some cities have construction that causes problems and while construction is necessary, does it really need to take years to complete a stretch of road? I happen to know, from personal experience, a section of freeway in a city in the north that has been under construction for over a decade. That is ridiculous and unacceptable.

Then there are the roads that never get fixed. The roads have potholes, crumbling shoulders, excessive stoplights, etc. Some downtown areas are infested with one way streets which causes major problems because it makes it extraordinarily difficult to get where you need to go. You will have to drive two to three blocks out of your way before you turn to get on the one way street going back towards your destination and find parking. If you don't find parking? You get to do it again. That is causing a lot of absolutely unnecessary driving.

While these plans may have worked well 20 or 30 years ago, they do not work well with today's traffic. Plain and simple.

However, road issues aside, one of the biggest problems with congestion is that too many people do not know how to drive.

They don't know how to merge. Countless times I have seen people come to a complete stop on an entrance ramp to the freeway. Guess what? You aren't getting in. There is no way anyone is going to come to a screeching halt from 65 + mph just to let your timid ass in. You merge onto the freeway at the speed the traffic on the freeway is going. If you do that, the drivers have a better chance at slowing down a bit so that you can get in. Yes, you are the one who has to merge but we are also relying on the kindness of others to let us in.

Which poses another problem. There are far too many dickheads out there behind the wheel. The people who refuse to let anyone get in, get in front of them, pass them, whatever. The people who sit in the left lane and fail to pass any traffic, rather, stay even with the traffic in the other lanes. Everyone: The left lane is for passing. If you are not passing, get the FUCK out of the left lane. You do not need to play policeman and cop the attitude that "Well, the speed limit is 65 and that's what I'm doing so they can just get over it." You are causing problems. Before you get all uppity about speeders, remember, you are also breaking the law by sitting in the left lane and not passing anyone.

People change lanes for no reason. Seriously. I've driven many miles and I've observed people, on the freeways at night time when there were no cars around them, change lanes. They didn't change lanes to get out of someone's way or because they were going to get off the freeway any time soon or even to pass someone. They changed lanes just to change lanes. People are changing lanes way too much. Get on the road, stay in your damn lane, if you need to pass, pass and then get back over and stay in that damn lane. If your exit is coming up, change into that lane. But this constant back and forth, repeated lane changing also causes traffic problems.

People do not pay attention to what is going on around them. Far, far too many people concentrate only on the car right in front of them. It makes me want to smack them. You need to concentrate on the car in front of you, to the sides of you, behind you and you need to check what's going on far up ahead of you. Watch the driver's hands and head motions. They will tell you exactly what that person is going to do. If you pay attention to all of these things instead of yakking on your cell phone or shaving or applying make up or eating or reading a book, you will know what's going on and be able to antcipate actions that will be taken. If everyone did this, we would have much smoother traffic flows.

Driver's tests are becoming the biggest joke. Anymore you don't even have to speak English to get a driver's license. Now what kind of shit is that? If you can't read the fucking signs, you should not be driving. Period. It is not enough to read a translated driver's manual and pass the test in your language of choice. You need to know the language of the country you are driving in because those signs on the road, the ones you read, are written in the language of that country. Further, back in the day when we took our driving test, we were taken out on the public streets, sometimes on the highways or freeways and we had to pass by driving in real life situations. Now? Now they put you on a closed course with cones. Cones for God's sake! A fucking cone is not realistic. Deducting points for hitting a cone is not realistic. I don't want to be on the freeway going 65+ with someone who only really knows how to maneuver around a fucking set of cones! Cones do not leap out in front of you. Cones do not slam on their brakes. Cones do not ride your ass. Cones do not run red lights. Cones do not travel in single line packs going 65 mph asking you to merge in between them. Cones just sit there. We used to make jokes that driver's licenses were found in Cracker Jack's boxes but it seems that joke isn't too far from the truth. Anyone who can memorize a few questions (and not even in English if they don't want to), and can drive around some fricken inanimate CONES, can get a damn license!

THAT is what causes a lot of our traffic congestion these days. You've got people out there driving around who really only know how to drive around a damn parking lot of cones. Perhaps if we all painted our cars orange they might drive better as they feel more at home but we are not cones.

If people would be tested thoroughly, in English and in real world situations, if people would pay attention and stop showing off on their cell phones, if people would show a little more courtesy out on the roads instead of vying for "America's Next Top Prick", if people would remember that they are driving a 2000 pound vehicle; a deadly weapon in the hands of the wrong person, we would have less congestion.

So, the next time you see me flipping you off? It's because I've known for a long time that your stupidity is costing me money in gas and maintenance on my vehicle. Frankly, I'm tired of paying for stupid people.

As for the widening of roads or making new roads? That's not really going to help much. Oh sure it'll help a little but what happens is that the stupid people now just spread themselves out and no matter what, you are still going to have congestion.

Oh, and by the way, you do not need to rubberneck at every single car that is on the side of the road. A fender bender is not exciting and you do not need to stop your damn car and soak in a good look, holding up everyone behind you, before you decide you've had your fill and can then get the hell out of the way.

Now then...where's my check from the government for my "scientific" research?

Driving Me Insane

Oh. My. GOD! This game is driving me nuts! I am too mathematical, I cannot turn off the mental calculator and get this fricken game:

Petals Around The Rose

Out of 55 attempts I have gotten the answer right 5 times. I still don't know what the hell I'm doing and I hoped those were the right answers.....

Per the instructions:

The name of the game is Petals Around the Rose. The name of the game is important. The computer will roll five dice and ask you to guess the score for the roll. The score will always be zero or an even number. Your mission is to work out how the computer calculates the score and become a Potentate of the Rose."

Ok...so which one is the (*&%$#@! rose!? Is that how it works? Oh bloody hell, I think I have a migraine now.

I triple dog dare you to play it. And I'll pay someone handsomely to tell me the farkooking secret! Please! I can't stand it anymore!

I'm off to drown this memory in alcohol.

[Link from Occasional Bitch]

[update] SON OF A BITCH! I finally got the stupid thing. Gottdamnit! I am one of those types of people who simply cannot let a problem go unsolved. I thought I'd sleep on it and try again tomorrow. HA! As if sleep would release me from my torment! Ok, now that I *&$#@! get it, I'll tell you this much:

It is NOT that fricken simple to figure out. Meaning, the concept is not that simple. Anyone who says it is and brags and carries on like their fricken genius level is full of it. If they figured it out that fast, they got damn lucky. The name of the game doesn't really help all that much and it has nothing to do with all of the dice. NOTHING at all! It also doesn't have a DAMN thing to do with the colors. That shit is just put there to throw you off. All the "hints", (as they claim them to be), are so abstract it's ridiculous. Even though I know how it works now, I still don't think it's a simple puzzle to figure out. BLAH! Now I can finally get some fricken rest! Oh and don't ask me for the solution. If I had to suffer, so do you.

Bloggers And Jobs

It's all in the extended entry.

Over the years that blogging and journaling have become more popular, we hear more and more about how some bloggers and writers are finding themselves without a job "because of the blog".

Here is a website devoted to collecting names of those who fell prey to this demise:

Bloggers Who Have Been Fired

This sort of situation answers those who write that they think it's wrong to post a blog using a psuedonym and not your real name. These are personal sites. Everyone knows what a journal is. A blog is nothing more than a collection of posts with entries containing links one found on the web in addition to personal entries. (This is what makes blogs and journals different by the way for those who are obviously confused about what to call their own site. If you don't link on a regular basis to things you find on the web? Guess what? You have an online journal. Not a blog.)

Regardless, again, they are personal web sites and one does not have to use their real name on these websites no matter who thinks that gives the writer less standing. It is actually smart not to use your real name on your site unless you are actually getting paid to write because not only do you have to worry about every schmuck who comes by knowing your identity, you also have to worry about your job.

You see, you don't even have to write about your job or anyone who works there to get fired from your job because you have a site. All you have to do is write and if it goes against anything management wants to see, you run the risk of being pulled into an office and lectured before they state, "We are going to let you go."

There are a few ways to prevent yourself from getting fired from your job for having a website and I'd like to take a moment to inform you of what others have done to get fired from their jobs because of their blog or journal so that you don't have to weed through the entries to find out what they did wrong. I will not be naming who did what, merely, compile a list of what I have learned along the way:

1) Do not blog at work.

Most companies now have the ability to view absolutely everything that goes on on your computer. They know what sites you've looked at, they know what you write in emails, they know what you've written in Word, they know if you have written on your site. And it is perfectly legal for them to know this. In fact, most people have signed a waiver stating that they will not use the computer at work for personal things. Yet, most people seem to think that they can get away with doing so. If you actually think that management won't go through and look at your computer from their location and "spy" on you while you are at work, supposedly doing things that they are paying you for, you are a fool. The company is not paying you to type out what you did last night, what show you saw this weekend, where you spent your honeymoon or anything of that nature. They are paying you to work and if you get busted writing in your blog at work? They have absolutely every right to fire you. Some complain that they didn't receive a warning. Guess what? You are not entitled to a warning. You can't sit there and honestly tell me that you have absolutely no idea that using a company computer for your personal use is wrong. It's stealing. Whether you like that term or not, that is what it is. You are stealing from the company and you don't need nor deserve a warning for stealing from the company. So, if you want to have a personal site, have one. But do not write in it, view it or read other sites while at work.

2) Do not take pictures at work and post them on your site.

One guy lost his job at Microsoft because he took photos of a truck in the loading dock full of computers. Despite that there was no recognizable, identifying information that would point this photo to Microsoft, he was outed. And he lost his job. You have got to be a real moron for doing this and not understanding why it's wrong. Some companies are very private and have their employees sign waivers discussing this privacy and to take a photo at your company, even without showing the general public where it is and what company you work for, the company will find out. You will be out of a job. And you do not deserve a warning.

3) Do not tell people you work with about your site.

Almost everyone makes buddies at work but the thing to remember is, at any point in time those buddies can turn on you and report you. It happens all the time. Maybe they want your job. Maybe you two are competing for the same job. Maybe some stupid rumor got started via gossip, (WHAT? Gossip at work? No! It can't be!), and they are now upset with you and since most people don't have the fricken balls to actually confront you and ask you for your side of the story, rather, believe anything they hear and run with it, you run a great risk by exposing anything personal about your life to co-workers no matter how "buddy-buddy" you think you are. Too many people give out way too much information about themselves and then have the audacity to act surprised when that information is revealed later. If you don't want people knowing something about you, don't tell anyone! If you feel you just have to get it out of your system, go seek a counselor or write it out. Just don't do it at work, on company time using company posessions.

4) Do not write about your job or co-workers on your personal site.

If you do so, you will be discovered one day and you will pay for it. People think that the internet is so large and over run by sites that there is no way anyone would find you. That's plain naive. If you actually think that no one will ever find your site, you have much to learn. It only takes a creative Google search or a check on the "WhoIs" site to track you down. And that's another thing, "WhoIs". They say it is legally required for those who have a site to have their name and address entered for all to see. You can find a hosting company who will put their information in the "WhoIs" data base while retaining your records on file. That way, should you have broken a copyright law or done some other sort of illegal thing with your site, those who need to find you can contact the hosting company and the hosting company will then divulge your information. You do have to have your name in there somewhere but it does not need to be displayed for absolutely everyone to see. All you have to do is write one little entry that will piss someone off, they will do a search, find out who you are and where you live, even possibly where you work. Guess what happens next? Why don't we ask Moxie Pop? Someone faxed her employer and she got fired. Granted, she was blogging from work so it's her own damn fault but the person who went through the trouble to gather this information and then fax her employer is a fucking panty waste who needs to be beaten in a dark alley. You do not fuck with someone's job just because of something they wrote, which is an opinion dipshits, no matter how pissed off you get. All you need to do is click your offended and self righteous ass right off their site and never return.

5) Do not write about the use of illegal drugs.

A very well known blogger did just this. He wrote about a vacation he took and wrote about the use of illegal substances and promptly lost his job because of it. Now we can sit here and act defiant and state that no one, damnit, will prevent me from talking about myself and my adventures! I have the right! Yep, you sure do. And they have the right to can your ass when they get through reading all about your pot smoking, heroin shooting, cocaine snorting escapades. Same holds true if you decide to go out and get completely shit faced every weekend and then write about it. If you wouldn't talk about it freely and openly at work, you probably shouldn't be blabbing about it on your site. If you do, prepare to suffer the consequences. And don't bitch and whine when you are handed your sentence.

6) Use a generic site to vent .

If you absolutely must complain about work or your co-workers, use a site geared for this that keeps your identity a secret. For example, you can always go apply to write at Cubic Hell. There you can rant and rave and carry on as you get it all out of your system and no one will be the wiser. (As long as you don't make your entries at work. I can't stress that enough.) At this particular site, you are referred to only by a cube number assigned to you, you make up fake names for your company and the co-workers you wish to bitch about and you never give any sort of identifying information about your job. You do have to keep it discreet but it's not impossible and it can alleviate the urge and desire to let the whole world know what a stupid little bitch you have to sit next to every day or just how gloriously stupid your boss truly is. If you have done something that may be frowned upon, go to Group Hug and tell the whole world what you did. No one will ever know it's you. The people at Group Hug won't even know it's you. There is no way for anyone to track you down via that site. You go there, click "Confess", enter your dirty deeds into a little box and click submit. Your confession will be assigned a little number but the only person who will know that number belongs to your confession is you. No one knows your name, your email or where you live. (Unless you are stupid enough to do this at work.)

7) Do not use your blog email as your personal email.

If you are looking for work, get another email address. Do not use your blog email as your contact email on your resume or applications. In fact, if the company has no reason to know your email, don't even bother giving them one. Some think that by not providing one they are telling the company that they don't have internet access and may not get the job because of that but that is not the case. Employers ask for your email because they want another way to contact you but it is not necessary. You do not have to provide them with one. A phone number is all they need. If you insist on giving them an email address, go get a GMail account or some web based email and use that address soley for business purposes. This means that you don't make up a cutsie name for it. Make it professional and do not give it out to others.

8) If you write about anything remotely controversial, don't post your photo.

A lot of bloggers and journalers like to put their photo up on their web page to give others the feeling of comfort by knowing they are reading the words of an actual person. Well duh. Of course these sites are written by real people. Ya think the monsters from under the bed or the closet are writing these things? Unless you are writing about how cute your pets are on a daily basis or how you cleaned your house all day or went to the quilters club again, chances are, you're going to eventually write something that pisses someone else off. (Oh, and those quilters and knitters aren't exactly immune either. Have you read their sites and how some get really angry because they wouldn't do it that way! That way is wrong! And there have been some really heated arguments over fricken knitting for God's sake! People will argue about anything!) If you piss someone off good enough, they can get the information on you and expose your site to your employer, complete with your photo which leaves no question that it's your site and BAM! You are cleaning out your desk and handing in your security badge. Why help them try to destroy you?

9) Above all, STOP FUCKING WRITING IN YOUR BLOG OR JOURNAL AT WORK!

I repeat this because it is so very important. I know many people do it and many people won't stop doing it because they have gotten away with it for so long. All I can say to that is: You have been warned. If you can't learn from the mistakes of others, you have only yourself to blame when the axe falls on your neck.

As many have pointed out on so many sites, there really aren't that many rules set forth for those who blog and write because it's all still relatively new. In the days of Usenet it didn't really matter although this sort of thing happened back then too. But now that we have our personal sites, the "attacks", (for lack of a better word), are becoming more personal. Don't be so quick to dismiss these warnings as there are a number of people who can telll you that they were innocently blogging one day and unemployed the next. There are even some who were turned down for jobs because of their sites. I'm not saying stop blogging or even to censor yourself. What I'm saying is use the same common sense on your site that you would use in the office. If you would not call the boss, "The biggest dipshitted prick to ever live" in the office where others can hear you? Don't say it on your site. If you wouldn't go telling your co-workers how you "made it with 6 different whores last month while going on a bender and sniffing up half an 8 ball of cocaine", then don't say it on your site. If you wouldn't write about your political beliefs in an office email, watch how you write it on your site. Or, find a place where you can write and remain anonymous. Use your head, don't give out so much information about yourself and remember, everything you write, someone is looking at it somewhere. Just hope it doesn't fall into the hands of your boss.

Hot Cheese!

And some say drugs are harmless.

[via Cruel Site]

Oh, by the way....

I'm sorry. I should never have subjected you to that.

Dear Visitors/Partiers To My City

It's good to know that you were able to get out and let your hair down while participating in the fabulous night life that my city has to offer. I don't blame you one bit for wanting to come here as this city is world renowned for its clubs and fun. In fact, the atmosphere is so alive here that I understand the desire to keep it going even when the party is over and it's time to go home.

You may be wondering how I knew you were out there enjoying yourselves tonight. You see, I live in a building at the intersection of two rather busy, main streets in this city and even though I live in the back of the building, upstairs, with air conditioner and two fans going, windows closed, I could still hear you as you drove up my street and were stopped at the light.

In case you were wondering what those buildings all around you were, those are called apartment buildings. Apartment buildings house several families and people; meaning, this is where they live, sleep and eat. These apartments are their little sanctuaries away from the rest of the world. We pay good money to live where we do and as with anyone who lives in any sort of dwelling, we have earned the right to have some peace and quiet after night fall.

To help you along in learning this obvious new concept, the point of bars and clubs is so that you have a place to go to listen to loud music, shriek at the top of your lungs like a drunken fool and basically make an ass out of yourself. Had a hard week and need to scream? The bar or club is the place to do it. Need to unwind with a little dancing? That's what clubs are for.

Your car is not a disco and you are not Dr. Dre, Snoop Dog nor the next Tupac. Your pathetic and laughable attempts to appear cool in order to impress eveyrone around you are not working. You are no different than the 30 other assholes who drove down this street before you. (I'm gonna take a wager and guess you wear a baseball cap on your head and if that wasn't bad enough, you wear it backwards. Am I right?) Further, I am now educating you on the fact that when you are sitting at a stop light, blaring your music so loudly that you are not only rattling windows, disturbing the peace, setting off car alarms and causing noise pollution, you are breaking the law.

Because I'm sick and tired of you idiotic, inconsiderate, selfish pricks, I will begin sitting outside with notepad and pen and start writing down your license plate numbers as you sit at the stop light pissing all of us residents off. I will then turn these numbers over to the police so that they can pay you a visit or inform you that you have a complaint against you for being so obnoxiously loud. Keep driving down my street and you will continue to get complaints. Eventually you will pay for your actions and lack of consideration for other people on the planet.

In other words:

TURN DOWN YOUR FUCKING BASS!

Potty Training Your Cat

Sometimes when I read news articles I'm astounded that they act like the idea is new and never been tried before. Take this story for example:

Flush Kitty

The line for the toilet is about to get longer.

Fed up with the mess created by kitty litter and inspired by the cat "Mr Jinks" in the Hollywood film "Meet the Fockers," an Australian woman has invented a toilet training system for cats called the "Litter-Kwitter."

Excuse me, this is nothing new. This idea has been around for a very long time. In fact, I tried to potty train my cats about 10 years ago. That is how un new this idea is.

Anyone who has a cat knows that cleaning the litter box is one of the most unfun chores to do as it stinks, is messy and it seems you have to do it every other day. Therefore, I decided one day that I had had enough and it was time for the felines to do something for themselves instead of laying around the house and demanding food from me. I also got fed up with cat litter that claimed not only to cut down on odors but to make litter clean up a breeze with their clumping formula. According to them, all you would have to do is simply scoop out the clump of wet litter and the kitty roca leaving you with a nice, clean litter box of remaining, unused litter.

Do these idiots even have cats?

Not once, in the entire time I've ever had a cat has the clumping litter worked the way they said it would. First off, I have one cat who thinks the litter box is a giant sand lot for him to play in and second, if they haven't shit all over the sides of the litter pan, the "clump" rarely stays a clump when scooping it out. What happens is that the clump, upon a mere touch from the scooper, disintegrates into millions of random particles of dirty litter and soils the rest of the pan. I have always had to throw out the entire litter, used or not.

So, since my cats were not about to parade around in training pants, I decided it was time to toilet train them. I bought the little disc that goes in the toilet and read the instructions on how to conquer this task.

It was going to take some time as the steps were to be done gradually so that the cats could get used to their litter box being in a new place. I was to slowly move their litter box towards the toilet so that eventually it was sitting right at the base of the bowl. Then I was to gradually elevate the litter box to the lip of the bowl using telephone books or whatever I could find around the house. Eventually the litter box would be even with the toilet bowl and I was then to put the disc under the seat of the bowl and put litter in it while the litter box sat at the same level.

As the cats grew accustomed to jumping up on the seat of the toilet, I was to remove the litter box completely and leave them only the litter filled disc to use.

I'll interrupt here to tell you that every single one of these steps worked like it should. My cats were becoming little champions in their toilet training and I envisioned a happy future and lifestyle, free of the confines of cat litter, litter boxes, poo on the carpet and loss of funds. I was ecstatic. I praised the cats and they stuck their tails straight up in the air, prancing around proudly. It was a great time in my household, cats and human living in perfect odor free harmony and peace. I kissed them, they licked me. I petted them, they rubbed their heads on me. We laughed together, shared together, enjoyed each other's company; the sun was shining, all was right with the world.

Until....

One of the cats fell in.

The horror and chaos that ensued was of Biblical proportions and despite chasing down a wet kitty and trying to console it and dry it off, I was now the enemy. I had played a terribly cruel joke on them and they decided to let me know for quite some time afterwards that I was no longer their beacon of light, their best friend, their compadre.

I was the evil, vile human who caused them this angst and I was going to pay for it.

Despite the toys and cat nip and other such tricks I used to try to convince them to give it another try, they were having none of it. They either did their business in my bathtub or all over the bathroom rugs. I perservered with my efforts but I found myself cleaning the bath rugs every other day and since that cost me just as much as cat litter and was more trouble than cleaning a cat litter pan, I eventually switched back and have never tried to toilet train them again.

It took awhile for them to allow me in their little cat circle again and we get along rather well to this day but I don't think they have ever truly forgiven me.

Now what was supposed to happen, (in a dream world), was that eventually the cats would learn to balance themselves on the seat of the toilet. Once they had learned this, you would remove the disc leaving you free of cat litter and pans for the rest of your life. Kitty would dump his/her business directly into the water while perched on the seat and you would just flush it upon arriving home from work.

That's how it is supposed to happen.

You can go ahead and try to toilet train your cats. It does sound like a great idea on paper doesn't it? However, please heed this warning. Just because a few cats will accomplish this task doesn't necessarily mean that yours will and if they don't? You will pay.

The Wolf Inside

Native Americans have a story of a grandfather walking with his grandson. The boy asks the old man why there is hatred, evil, violence and broken promises in the world.

The grandfather replies. "The answer is within. Deep inside each of us is a fight between two wolves. One is evil. He is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt. The other wolf is good. He is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This fight between the two wolves is going on inside of you and inside of everybody."

The grandson thinks for a moment and then asks his grandfather "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one that you feed."

[Courtesy of Sail Girl]

After These Messages

Some ad execs need to be smacked. While there are some commercials that are quite funny, (like that Iams commercial where the guy is showing his cat how to play with all its toys and the cat just gives him a look...hilarious), most commercials are boring, don't make sense or are just plain wrong.

For example, Nike has an ad that is a black and white cartoon showing a child walking down the street. He stops, removes his head, uses it as a balloon and then continues on his way. What does that have to do with shoes or clothing?

Then there are the commercials with female voice overs where the female tries to talk in a sexy soothing voice as if to hypnotize me into buying the product. Failure. All it does is irritate the crap out of me and make me not want to purchase the product. There's nothing sexy about water or garbage bags or children's dirty diapers. Talk to me in a normal voice and I'll pay attention. Anymore I will mute the t.v. or change the channel after the first syllable is uttered because it's so insulting I swear it brings me almost physical pain.

Some commercials though are so very, very wrong that the person who presented the idea should be immediately fired and never allowed to work in the business again.

Let's talk first about the Mucus guy. Oh my gawd that is a disgusting commercial. The Mucus guy walks around and leaves a trail of mucus where footprints should be and they show him inside the guys lungs, lounging around, mucus flung all over the walls. That is so fucking sick it makes me want to puke every time I see it. It doesn't matter if it's a cartoon or computer graphic image, there's mucus everywhere! Totally GROSS!

I also get the willies whenever I see people putting eyedrops in their eyes or the camera "goes into" the person's eyeball and spits us out into another world. I don't care if this makes me sound weird but I will slam my eyes shut so that I don't have to "enter" the eyeball world along with the rest of you. I get to stay in my own world, free of eyeball juices. There's just something about sticking things in people's eyes or close ups of eyes that gives me troubled sleep. I wish they would stop doing it.

And what about these drug ads? What is up with those? I clearly do not understand because all I can think the entire time the piece is airing is, "Don't the doctors already know this drug exists? Why should I have to point it out to them?" I can only imagine the conversation:

Doc: I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do for you. You're going to die.

Me: But I saw an advertisement for this drug on t.v. last night. Can't we try that?

Doc: Well it's a good thing you brought that drug to my attention. You will live after all.

As if! I'm not about to go into the doctor's office and prescribe myself some drug because I'm not a doctor and I'm pretty sure that if a certain drug would save me, they would tell me about it. It's not like doctors are in the business to see how many people they can knock off by keeping certain drugs and medication a secret from us.

And what is with the toenail commercial! Criminy! I don't even know what the hell they are selling because I can't watch more than 3 seconds of the thing. They show this cartoon foot, (as if that wasn't bad enough....close ups on feet is another "no go" as far as I'm concerned because most people, (although not me), have really ugly feet and I have this thing about people and their nasty feet), and some fungus guy comes sauntering on up to it and lifts the fucking big toenail and climbs in!!! That's worse than Mucus guy! The first time I saw it I spent the next half an hour cringing and rubbing my feet because it gave me the same affect that some people get when they hear nails down a chalkboard. AAAGH! That is so wrong! You don't do that to people! Gawd, to think that someone sat at a table with other co-workers brainstorming and stated:

"I have an idea! Let's have Fungus Guy open the toe nail on a foot like a door" and they all thought it was great! They made poster board drawings and presented it! It passed! It got the green light! What are these people smoking?

I could just get up and walk away during commercial breaks but good God people, we are bombarded with these things every 5 minutes during a program and I just do not have that much I have to do. I guess I now know my lot in life. I need to be president of an advertising company so that I can tell these people to knock it off! That is, right after I become a driving tester at the DMV and flunk half the population. But that's a post for another day.

Update On The *&%$#! Gas Oven

I read everyone's comments and to be quite truthful, I swore you were all insane and stoned if you thought I was going to put a match inside my oven. Also? Since this is my very first experience with lighting a gas oven, I had no idea where to put the match.

However, hunger over took me and as all I have to eat is week old grapes, water, mustard and a pizza, I decided that if I was going to die, it would not be of starvation. I decided to give the stupid oven another try.

I don't have any matches, long or short and there is no way in hell I'm lighting it with a lighter so after much thought, I grabbed an incense stick. I looked inside the oven for the "hole" on the floor near the hinge as Jeffro suggested and I found myself staring at a few holes in the floor of the thing. I looked to the top and saw where the gas comes out...at least I think that's where it comes out. It looks threatening so surely that must be where the deadly gas that waits to blow up the kitchen lurks. I waved the incense stick around hoping the thing would "ignite", (oh my gawd that still gives me the willies), but nothing happened.

I quickly lost my nerve, opened up the door leading to the back entrance and waited for the gas to air out. Nonetheless, I was determined to do this because you all spoke as if it was perfectly normal to go sticking matches inside gas ovens and gave me enough confidence that maybe nothing bad would happen. Not a lot, mind you, but a little.

I worked up my courage again and opened the door once more. I saw that one hole on the floor of the oven looked different than the others. This one was perfectly round. It seemed to be in a logical place for lighting although it was not by the hinge and was actually towards the middle of the oven. (Note to self: Do indeed pull my hair back and never wear long sleeves while doing this.)

Turning the knob, I stuck the incense stick at the hole and waited. Nothing. I placed it at the lip of the hole. Nothing. Well now I'm getting ticked that this contraption was outsmarting me so I shoved the incense stick all the way into the hole.

PHWOOMP!

Needless to say, I jumped back but that damn thing was lit! I stood there and stared at it for awhile to make sure the flame and gas would not decide to fully engulf the entire oven, licking it with flames. I adjusted the temp to the 400 degrees that was required for the pizza.

Seemed to be alright. So I stuck the pizza in and stood guard over the oven just in case. (Remind me to get a fire extinguisher. I can't believe the landlord didn't provide a fire extinguisher. Now I have to go buy one.) Of course while this pizza was cooking, every odd smell or weird noise, no matter where it came from, (outside even), I was convinced something was wrong with the gas oven and my heart raced while I stood there, stressed and ready to attack for 14 minutes.

Although the pizza probably could have used another one or two minutes, I took it out and finally, 12 hours later, I had pizza. I have succeeded in conquering my gas oven.

This does not mean that I like it. I still hate it. I tested the oven out after turning it off to see if it would just come on on its own like the burners do. (I never had to "light" the burners. I turned the knob, waited a little bit and they lit themselves. Every time after that they come on immediately.) No. Of course not. That would be silly. It appears I'm going to have to light this stupid thing every single time I want to put something in the oven. Double plus unthrilled.

The other thing I don't like about gas ovens and stoves for that matter? For some this is a plus but not for me. I'm used to waiting for burners and ovens to heat up and I'm used to cooking time going along with what the packaging says on the food.

Example, my pizza declared that I would need to wait for the oven to warm up to 400 degrees and then it would take approximately 19-21 minutes for the pizza to fully cook. It didn't take very long for the oven to be hotter than hell and my pizza was 99% done in 14 minutes. That's a 5-7 minute difference people. Same thing goes for the burners. I have a good idea how long it takes to make eggs or hamburgers or chicken on an electrical stove top but a gas stove top cooks your food in like .00038 seconds. You have no idea just how much food I have burned while trying to get used to gas stoves and ovens. That sets off another fear. The damn smoke detector. I hate those things too. Sure they save your life if you are sleeping and fire breaks out but they like to go off at the slightest whiff of smoke so not only do you have an ear drum piercing siren going off, all the neighbors in your apartment building now know that you can't cook for shit. Of course this is not before you have worried them or caused them panic at the noise.

Maybe I'll just go back to microwaving everything.

Regardless, if it was not for you kind folks acting like it was no big deal and the one reader who gave me an idea where to even look TO light the farkin thing, I would still be staring at a frozen pizza, stomach growling and wondering how well mustard would taste on grapes.

Stay tuned for my next big adventure when I visit the dentist next Tuesday.

(cue horror music and screams)

Yah, I hate the dentist too. In case you are noticing a trend, yes, I hate just about anything that can potentially cause me pain or makes loud noises. What can I say? I'm a quiet little mouse who wants to be left alone. Of course I rarely ever get my way. See, I don't want people poking or prodding at me, telling me, "You've got 6 months to live" or "You have a disease we've never heard of before" or, "Sorry lass, we have to yank all of your teeth out because you didn't floss on a regular basis" (followed by maniacal laughter and 'I told you so's'), or "You are under arrest for not knowing how to light your gas oven properly and took out three apartment complexes and half a hotel. You're going to rot in jail for the rest of your life", or any number of things where I may be met with less than desirable news. No, I'm not dramatic.....I think I've read too many books and have an over active imagination. And that's just the thoughts I conjure up while conscious and alert. You should see my dreams and nightmares. I put Stephen King to shame.