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Thursday, September 30, 2010

It seems as though...

...people are saying that Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher are "getting what they deserve", what with all of their cheating rumors. Obviously I have no clue what's going on, but to say that they're getting their "just desserts" seems rather harsh and petty.

Apparently, their online antics and constant twittering makes them fodder for every angry idiot with a pen and a publisher. They've been accused of being "in our face" with their happiness and love life. That's the first time I've seen happiness used as a reason for vengeance and for taking pleasure in another person's heartache. By that logic, every new mother deserves some kind of heartbreak before her kid's first birthday.

The Kutcher's have been a tad nauseating to those of us not quite so blessed in the love department but there's an easy fix for that nausea, we can simply click on a more miserable tweeter and bask in the unhappiness of another. Those who are retching from the sweet tweets of Mrs. Kutcher would do well to follow the angry bites of Perez Hilton and those of his hideous ilk.

I've never been a fan of Ms. Moore's...her movies always seem a tad too syrupy for my tastes and her consistent, ever present tears gag me when I see them or think they might be forthcoming. But, I've never wished her ill will because of it. Her hubby is far too young to make a decent deposit in the fidelity bank but sooner or later he will grow up, marry someone 15 years his junior and she will cheat on him mercilessly. Such is the way of the world. I don't make the rules, I just vomit them on this blog.

Karma is a nasty and formidable enemy and the seeds we sow will be reaped in spades, of that I am sure. So, one way or another, the Kutcher's will find exactly what they've hidden as will the yahoo's who think that such unhappiness is a pleasurable show to watch. Oy vey.


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Sunday, September 19, 2010

When I was 18 years old...

...I went on an interesting cross country trek that eventually landed me in Petaluma California. I quickly met a handsome young Marine named John Cardis. We eloped to Reno and almost immediately found out that we were expecting a baby. That baby was my oldest child. As do most marriages of a couple of teenagers, our's fell apart and I moved back home with an infant.

John and I divorced and we both went about our own lives. Apparently, being the only one of my ex's who understood the meaning of the word "divorce", John left me alone...something I wish my other 2 ex's would learn to do.

Yesterday I received a phone call from my son. It seems as though his uncle had tracked him down through Facebook, of all places. The uncle had the sad duty of informing my son that his father had passed away from a massive coronary.

Apparently, John had gained a lot of weight over the years and had a rather high cholesterol level. Not a good combination at all, those two factors contributed greatly to John's early demise.

It was a very odd feeling and I still haven't wrapped my head around the fact that my first husband and the father of my son is gone. I suppose I'll get used it as time goes by, but right now I'm still stunned. I certainly feel badly for John's mother and his siblings...but I haven't quite figured out how to feel about this sad news myself. It's an odd feeling that I don't quite know how to deal with out just yet.

I haven't seen John for years but I did care deeply about him once and he did give me a beautiful son who I am very proud of as well as grandchildren who I wouldn't have had I never met John.

John was cremated in Cleveland Ohio and his ashes will be buried in California after a full military funeral with a seven gun salute on this coming Friday. He was a Marine and he served in Guam.

Good bye John.


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Tuesday, September 14, 2010


A British teenager who sent an e-mail to the White House calling President Obama a "pr*ck" was banned from the U.S. for life, The Sun reported Monday.

The FBI asked local cops to tell college student Luke Angel, 17, that his drunken insult was "unacceptable."

Angel claims he fired off a single e-mail criticizing the U.S. government after seeing a television program about the 9/11 attacks.

He said, "I don't remember exactly what I wrote as I was drunk. But I think I called Barack Obama a pr*ck. It was silly -- the sort of thing you do when you're a teenager and have had a few."

Angel, of Bedford, in central England, said it was "a bit extreme" for the FBI to act.

"The police came and took my picture and told me I was banned from America forever. I don't really care but my parents aren't very happy," he said.

A Bedford Police spokesman confirmed they had spoken to Angel about the e-mail. Officers will take no criminal action.

Joanne Ferreira, of the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, said there are about 60 reasons a person can be barred from visiting America.

She said, "We are prohibited from discussing specific cases."

Now that is funny.


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Friday, September 10, 2010

My flowerhood


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Slurp until you can't slurp any more!!!

I made a pretty little girl a cup of hot chocolate this morning and since I filled it too much, she had to take a sip or two before she could pick up the cup. After she did so, she told me that she "slurps until I can't slurp any more."

I thought that was cute and I immediately thought to come here and mention it to you. What a nice thought, if you must slurp, you absolutely MUST slurp until you can't slurp any more...don't you think?

Slurping my coffee,



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Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Well, China is paying for...

..it's shortsighted one child policy. Now there are 118 boys for every 100 girls. Isn't that nice for the girls? I like those odds myself.

I know a very pretty little girl who wouldn't be here if it weren't for that silly policy so I won't bitch too much. She's a sweet as she can be, smarter than any two people I know and she has the potential to be whatever it is she sets her mind to. If China weren't tossing out beautiful little girls, I wouldn't know her at all.

I look at her and it absolutely STUNS me that 2 people agreed to give her away. It could have been worse, abortion and infanticide is running rampant in that nation of nit wits. I hope they suffer when they think of their beautiful daughter, it's the only way I can make sense of her being tossed out.

In the new millennium, discrimination towards women is still evident all over the planet. From the Chinese throwing away little girls to the insanity of the Iranian government, I have to thank God that I was born in America.

Rahbare Mo'azzame Enqelab is the "Supreme Leader" in Iran and he could easily pardon a woman sentenced to be tortured and then stoned to death, but he chooses to allow her "punishment" to be carried out by an insanely deranged "judicial system" that punishes one half of an adulterous couple to a hideous death while allowing half number 2 to go back to a life in an undeveloped, impoverished and illiterate country full of mad men. Lord knows I have no love lost for adulterous people, but I don't think death by stoning is the answer to that problem. If I did, I would have invited you to a party 6 years ago. Although I may have fantasized about some wild punishments for my ex and his tramp, I wouldn't have, and I couldn't have, actually hurt another American.

I don't know how any idiot Iranians it takes to stone someone to death, but I imagine the number is substantial. I've heard people say that Iranians are "lovely people". Call me kookie but I do NOT and will not believe that until I hear ONE of them speak out against it's brain dead, evil and maniacal leaders.

My disdain for Iranians necessarily spills over to muslims in general. I have no patience for the sons of whores. Now they want to build a mosque next to Ground Zero? Let 'em. You can't blow it up until it's built. If no one else wants to do it, I will.

Call it racist or prejudiced, I don't care...that's the way I feel. One thing I've learned is that when I have an opinion, I rarely hold it alone. I know there are many who agree...and many who disagree. It's all good, this isn't Iran so I can say what I want to say. And, what I'd like to say is this...there are a lot of nuts walking around all over. I would LOVE it if a bunch of them stoned the Iranian pigs who would throw a stone at a woman who never actually harmed another human being.

The problem with the US military is that they never had a chance. Normal people are outnumbered by muslims so badly that for every one normal person who is murdered, we need to kill one thousand of them to have an impact. As long as America coddles to the Hitler's of today, we can't be surprised when a few of them decide that 72 virgins are worth dying for. How daft is that? After 2 1/2 months, they're out of virgins and eternity faces them with a vengeance.

It takes some wicked psychopaths to make China look good, but somehow, Iran manages to do it.

Great song for normal people: http://islamcomicbook.com/lyrics1.htm



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Monday, September 06, 2010

Back to California...

...if only in my blog. I was wondering what to write about today and when I could come up with nothing, it occurred to me that I had taken copious notes during my trip out west. I decided to look at them and when I did, I read the notes about Thor.

Some of you might remember Thor, he's the guy I dated when I was living in LA. I enjoyed his company and he was forever in an annoyingly good mood. Funny how I never even questioned that stupid, ever present grin before.

I was going to stay with Thor while I was in LA, he knew I was coming and if it weren't for his offer, I never would have gone out there. The night I got in, he was waiting for me and my sore neck at the Greyhound station and he was as happy as ever. It seemed as though he hadn't changed clothes since I left...he was wearing the same ugly blue t-shirt over a torn black t-shirt that I saw far too many times earlier in the year. I always felt like asking, "Can we see some more of your clothes now?"

Anyway, car-less dude that he is, we took yet another bus, actually 3 of them, back to the no-tell motel that he planned on spending the weekend at for some odd reason. (Did you ever notice that if there IS a pornographic channel on a motel TV, it WILL be tuned to that channel when you turn the TV on? I actually looked longer than I usually do, not because I'm into porn, but because I noticed something rather odd. The woman in the "movie" had her pubes all shaved and in place of them, she had a bush sized tattoo. I had to look to be sure of what I saw...I was right, she had replaced her innocuous pubic hair with a hideous paisley tat that only a porno skank could pull off.)

Anyway, we went to bed and quickly fell asleep, Lord knows I didn't want to fool around and obviously, neither did he. That should have been my first clue. Instead of having sex, I just looked at myself in the ceiling mirror and fell quickly and at last, into a deep sleep. We woke up early in the morning and chatted for a while before he had to go to work. I didn't mind at all, I used the day to go to Hollywood and wander aimlessly up and down Hollywood Blvd. I'm glad I did that, I never did get back there during my trip.

I was back at the motel well before Thor's anticipated arrival time of 6:15. I decided to take a nap and when he came back, I woke up briefly but just enough to notice him in the room, then I went back to sleep. I must have really needed it because I ended up sleeping all the way into the wee morning hours. It was still dark outside and Thor was gone, hint number...3 maybe? I watched a movie and then got dressed and left the room.

Upon leaving the room, I saw Thor at the bus stop outside of the motel which is also next to his place. I asked what happened to him and he gave me some lame excuse but we were to spend the morning together before he had to go BACK to work. Then, he would come back and spend the evening with me.

Something in me felt not quite right about that and I asked him, "Do you really want to go to breakfast with me?" The hints were finally sinking in. "No." he responded.

I had to know what was going on...so I asked him if he was really coming back later. He assured me that he was, indeed, coming back later. Perhaps I had mis-phrased that question. I posited it again. Do you WANT to come back later?"

He hesitated so I could have walked away right then but I'm not quite that nice. I'm sick of spineless men. I wanted to hear it from him. "Man up and tell me the truth."

"Man up? No, I don't."

So, I walked away, never to see him again. I don't know why he asked me out there just to leave me stranded, but it didn't really matter, he did it. So, down La Brea Street I walked until I got to the 99 cent store where I bought myself some seriously needed deodorant before my lovely shower wore off.

Why do men have such a hard time being honest? Thor didn't lie, but his lack of honesty was as destructive as if he had. My ex simply lied no matter how many laws of physics the lie broke. I really don't think Thor ever lied to me, but I learned something important...never trust an ever present smile. Normal people have occasional grimaces.


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Friday, September 03, 2010

Lately I've been getting...

...my wisdom from coffee cups. I went to the local Coffee Bean the other day and while reading my cuppa, I saw the following saying, "Don't look back unless it makes you smile." Good advice, whatever the source.

Occasionally someone "advises" me that I should "get over" what my ex did to me. Sometimes these are well meant comments, other times not so much. But... I really have, as much as one can, gotten over it. That's not why I bring that nit wit up. It's just that now I see him for what he was and it makes me, not only smile, but laugh out loud. So, being the card that I am, I write about those things. That, blended with my dry wit that only another Irish person can truly understand, may come across as bitter or something else perceived as negative in our society. Personally, when I was bitter, I made no secret of it. After all, it was what it was and I was brutally honest about it. But...always with a punchline. I have been able to smile at that nimrod for years.

Lately a memory popped up that I had mostly forgotten about. I guess it was clouded over by the more fervent memories of the final week of my marriage. One way or another, I remembered it while I was in California. The last time I saw my ex (except for the court ordered mediation when I never turned an eye to him) he had a gaping, oozing sore in between his eyebrows and I put it there.

When he was cheating, he was very "meticulous" about his appearance. At times he resorted to daily tooth brushing...a sign I recognized all too well. One night he wanted his unibrow tended to.

Now...ordinarily, I would have tweezed the offending hairs but for some blessed reason, I decided to do a really good job. I was trying ever so hard to be a good wife and isn't it a wife's job to separate unibrows? That man had hair everywhere but on his head...he started shaving right under his eyes. (Yeah, I know, monkeys will be monkeys.) So, in one of my last desperate acts as a wife trying to keep an errant husband, I went and got my bottle of Nair with no inkling whatsoever that it would eat through the man's epidermis.

Now, I've been using Nair since 1972 when my mother gave me my first bottle of the stuff along with this stern warning, "Don't put it anywhere except your underarms and your legs. Obviously, she couldn't have foreseen the bald pussy craze of the new millennium. Even at a young age, I knew enough not to apply chemicals to my coochie...duh. Anyway, I've used that shit for decades with nary a problem...although I have always steadfastly obeyed my mother's advice and limited my use of it to the aforementioned body parts.

Being the girl that I am, I never needed to apply it to my face but armpits are mighty sensitive areas and I never had a problem with them. So, it was with great confidence that I lovingly painted a huge square halfway up my husband's forehead and halfway down his nose. How was I to know that he would have one of those hideous reactions that are dreadful when hidden by clothing...but nothing short of a Batman mask would have hidden that huge ulcer. It was glorious.

I've decided to inject my memories of my ex with pictures of that cycloptic thing on his face/head. It pleases me...and it makes me smile.


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Thursday, September 02, 2010

My beautiful daughter on her wedding day

I just noticed that there's a leak in my umbrella but not even a leaky umbrella can ruin my mood when I see my daughter looking so lovely.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

She's lovely, can see the resemblence.

September 02, 2010  

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I'd love to scream...

...one of those primal screams that will purge you of all negativity but I can't seem to convince me that it would work. It occurs to me that someone would hear me and call the cops and then they would come right over and find the stems that are all that's left of my California medicinal weed. I would do time for possession of stems and that's almost as stupid as doing time for jaywalking. I guess I should get rid of those now that I've mentioned them to the world.

I woke up this morning like I usually do, worrying for no good reason so my mind looked around until it found a good reason to justify the worrying. I know that's disjointed but at least I'm aware of it so maybe now I'll just try to stop doing that. I redirected my thoughts to my sore neck from the Greyhound Suitcase Caper and it occurred to me that I may have been a little rough on Mr. Patterson...the first driver on the bus who took us from Chi-town to Omaha where I was assaulted by a huge, drunken, bi-polar freak who is probably stalking me now because I spoke to the police after I spoke to the driver. I don't think Mr. Patterson would have let the drunken dude on the bus...he was much too much of an ex Marine, Nazi or old nun for that crap.

At the beginning of our trip, he announced with glee that the federal government had "FINALLY" passed a law making it a crime to remove one's shoes or socks on a bus. I was afraid to ask what the law was about people who wore only shoes and no socks...another thing I don't want to get locked up over.

So, this is my official apology to Colonel Klink...er, Mr. Patterson. Dude, I wished you had stayed, at least, until the bus left Omaha. Oh well, it is what it is and it was what it was.

Opie the security guard was useless, he should have accompanied the suitcase creep back on the bus to retrieve his belongings after they kicked him off. He did share stories with us while we were waiting in Omaha (before the suitcase to the head). He told us about a bar that was still open "over the river" and then added, "But it's a gay bar." I wouldn't have gone anyway but it was interesting to hear the story of the mechanical bull that's shaped like a penis. Somewhere in Omaha Nebraska, some brokeback cowboy is riding that penis right now...of that I am sure.

Omaha wasn't much to look at although I did see the Woodmen and the Mutual of Omaha buildings. I don't know why I knew the Woodmen building, I've never been to Omaha before that I can remember. I drove through Nebraska once in the 70's but I wasn't paying attention to buildings or mechanical penis's at the time, preferring instead to cultivate the next real penis that was in my sites.

On that note, I will take me leave.


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Wednesday, September 01, 2010

While I was...

...contemplating where to begin to tell you about my latest adventure, I had so many possibilities that I was getting dizzy thinking about them all. But, as I was chatting with my girlfriend (who was recently referred to as my "life-partner" and of course, not that there's anything wrong with that, but she is simply a friend. My lifelong and most loyal friend, but I have never touched her genitals. I have grabbed a clothed boob on occasion, that's just funny to me. No one expects it and you always get a laugh from the boob bearer.) when it occurred to me that what I needed to do first was give you a list of the creepy people I met on my journeys. That seems to be the highlight of my conversation so I will begin right there. So, here you have a list of SOME of the creepy people that I met over the past few weeks.

1. Unfortunately, my perpetually creepy ex has to be on this list because the morning I left, he read my blog and called my friend to ask her where I was and where I was going. He made stuff up and so did MY friend...DUH!!! Then he got mad at MY friend for making shit up about me...after he made shit up about my children who are 28, 30 and 32. They are old enough to handle their own lives dude, get away from me. Oh, Caryn wants you gone too, she'll use another exterminator if she needs one.

2. Next is the creepy dude who wanted to sell me a bracelet outside of Union Station in Chicago. They HAD to be real because they had tags that said $145.00 and all he was asking was ten bucks. I told him he would do better at a pawn shop rather than people catching trains and buses. I doubt they were real gold and silver, but I DO know they were white and yellow metal of some sort. This guy is one of a thousand scammers that I came across. Eventually I'll tell you about them all.

3. Next would have to be the Greyhound Bus driver, Mr. Peterson. My experience on that bus, from that particular driver to the next person on the list, assured that never again will I ever, under any circumstances, take a Greyhound Bus. Mr. Peterson was a Nazi-like soul who earned the moniker Colonel Klink. He read us the riot act and with some words and a WHOLE LOT of attitude said, "I don't count heads so you best be back on this bus on time....I'll leave your ass in Ogoolooloo Nebraska...go ahead, MAKE MY DAY!" I would wager a bunch of cash that he DID leave someone somewhere...it was just someone I didn't notice. I had a feeling after he ran to the bus quickly and pulled out so fast he almost laid bus rubber. Some poor sap was in he Ogoolooloo truck stop taking a dump and Peterson knew it. He constantly warned us that he would "terminate your trip for you!", and he relished the thought. But he was a driver and he sure could drive, we passed every big rig on the interstate. He wanted to make good time to Des MoineSSSSS. I thought, if he can't say it, then how can he find it? He did.

4. Next has to be the freak who threw the suitcase at my head. Now, this is what happened...we stopped in Omaha and I was very pleased to learn that Mr. Peterson would be taking leave of our presence. We were to get a new driver who, as it turned out, was a doll. But, not the brightest bulb on the strand. Pleased that Colonel Klink would no longer be on the bus, I walked back to my lovely aisle seat and sat my white ass down. All of a sudden this guy behind me started talking drunken, bi-polar and scary smack. He was saying things like "I am one ANGRY black man!", Some CAUCASIAN asked me to watch my language!" and "I'm bi-polar, my sister kicked me out today and I took 2 of her butcher knives.". All of these comments were peppered with "fucks" and "Ya know what I"m saying?'s". I was actually sort of laughing to myself and taking notes about that experience when it occurred to me that there was certainly going to be trouble afoot if nothing was done. So, being the nit wit that I am...I did something. I went and ratted out the angry black dude to the driver who then came on the bus and said, "I told you about this already! Didn't I warn you?" So, the driver, after many warnings that there was to be no drinking or drugging on the bus, had allowed a drunk, bi-polar, angry black man on the bus anyway. But...he DID warn him. Anyway, they politely asked him to get off of the bus and apparently kicked him off for good. That's when brain dead move number 2 comes in. They let the fool BACK on the bus to get his stuff (which may or may not contain 2 butcher knives.), unescorted by Opie, the local security guard, and right past the white bitch who turned him in. He started fucking with me as soon as he got back on the buss. Still, it all happened so fast that it never occurred to me to protect myself. When he passed me he was still jabbering drunkenly. But, one comment I did make out was, "Watch this!" For some reason, I chose not to watch which may be a good thing because the next thing I felt was a suitcase to the head. Had I watched, it would have hit me in the face. It wasn't full-sized, that wouldn't have done as much damage. It was a little toiletry thing that was packed to the gills. I'm sure I did the right thing by disembarking and hiding behind Opie...but I DO so wish I had given him a sharp elbow to the chest followed by a foot to the throat. Much, much more on this subject...obviously.

5. OK...in Greeley Colorado, the bus station is actually a Budget Rent-A-Car and behind the counter is a chick who would love to scam any and all bus people she can...I would assume that she scams all of the car renters as well, but I have no evidence of that. When I went in to leave for Denver and meet up with my bus to LA, she told me that I had to buy a $19 ticket to Denver. I had just gotten out of the hospital after receiving a suitcase to the head on a Greyhound Bus, I didn't want to get back on that stupid thing anyway (thank God for xanax) and now they wanted MORE money to get me to LA and of course, I already paid for a ticket to LA. The hospital detour was NOT my idea. Then, after I decided to just speak directly to the driver, I went outside and met a guy who stopped in Greeley to see a chick and wanted to get back on the bus. The counter scam artist asked him for $15 to "certify" his ticket to wherever he was going after Denver. Then, as we stood there talking about what a crook she was, she walked out, got in her car and peeled out, with not a license plate, tag or bumper sticker on the back of her white vehicle. Anyone in Greeley has my permission to forward this to the Greeley authorities. The girlfriend visiting dude and I BOTH got to Denver without buying new tickets or getting old tickets "certified". Skank.

Man...I haven't even crossed the Rockies and I'm exhausted already. OK then, obviously, there are innumerable other creepy people who I will introduce to you over the next few posts. (OK, maybe MORE than a few, there seems to be an inordinate number of creepy people out there.) But for now, I have to go get a warm cup of coffee and enjoy the mess that is my home. And I'm glad to be back in it.


BTW...I realize that I may or may not have spelled Ogoolooloo properly, but if I didn't, I'm seriously really damn close.


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