I scurry back towards the stall, doing “the penguin” across the tile towards my igloo, refusing to look up at the intruder.I laughed till my Mojito almost came back up!
hmmmmmmmmm
uhmmmmmmm
::sigh::
There is a little dude running around the waiting room right now yelling "sheethole fockface" over and over. I had a near collision with him when I was on my way to the ladies so I'm guesstimating his age at 3 because he's short.
So, my questions are:
1) Why are the parents not muzzling him and/or tying him down somewhere?
2) Where did he learn such bad pronunciation of those precious swears?
3) Why not teach him more so he doesn't bore us with the same shit over and over?
The parents look to be about 18-20 so I'm thinking they know how to let loose with the f-bombs, is it too much to ask for them to be good parents and ask the kid to shut up if he can't say the words right?
Oh, the precious little lad just ran in here and said, you guessed it, "sheethole fockface" I didn't kick his ass because he was talking to the copy machine and the copy machine can be a sheethole fockface.
[above was written at about 2:30pm while I was at work, obviously it is not going on right at this second]
╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥
The other day, don't ask me what day because they have all been the same to me once the temperature dropped below 40 degrees, I was watching the front desk for CL while she went to lunch. There were no patients since the docs were off so I was bored out of my ever loving mind.
When I'm bored, I write/scribble/doodle. I had nothing interesting to write about and I was done with scribbling weird things like, why is Keanu Reeves in so many movies if he has no expression on his face- EVER? and OMG I found Keanu's dad!
You know, things that didn't really lead to any posts so I started doodling.
When I was a teenage Bee, I loved to draw. I would draw Garfield, Snoopy, Face aka Templeton Peck aka Dirk Benedict from the A-Team, book covers that caught my eye, stuff like that.
One time, I was about 16, I showed my dad a drawing of Face and he said "Hmmm well, keep trying it doesn't look like total crap but I'm sure you can make it look better" or something along those lines. I put down my pencil and shelved yet another broken dream. Ha ha! Just kidding, it wasn't that serious. I just stopped drawing and thought about how my life might have turned out if my mom had gone out with and married her other serious suitor, the ice cream vendor.
When I doodle, I go back to those naked people and draw something similar. That day I drew a little cartoon and tried to make it look kind of like me but I have better hair.
I didn't like my first try since it looked like I had a Quagmire chin instead of boobs.
My second try was this.
I had no neck. You know what? I guess my pops was right!
Anyway, once I re-sketched it and got it how I wanted, I was going to scan it so I could put it up on my sidebar with a little caption. Maybe the weird thoughts that run through my mind when I don't have the filter on?
But then I started thinking.
While the smoke was coming out of my ears for overexerting my 6 brain cells, I started to get the idea that Andy and I should start a comic strip here at the Blogus. We'd take a regular, every day blow out fight difference of opinion and put it to a comic strip.
I'm including Andy in my little project for 2 reasons, he draws way way way better than I do and he is the cause of all many of my headaches even though he denies it.
I thought it would be fun to post it every Sunday and we'd call it "Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love…" because it's true. We are always married and sometimes still in love. Other times we wrestle like a couple of alligators fighting over a tourist leg.
When I brought the idea to Andy, he laughed and then saw I was serious -seriously going to kick his ass for laughing- so he asked "What if we run out of stuff to comic-strip about?" my turn to laugh because he and I will never ever run out of inane things to argue about. Never.
That might sound a little sad and if I were you, I'd think we needed marriage counseling but when you are on this side of the fence, you know it's totally normal and even healthy-ish.
So yeah, stay tuned for the Sunday comics here at Bee's Musings.
P.S.
Stop staring at my boob-chin!
So…
As some of you may know, my momma is in
This means that I’m all alone in my big house once Andy leaves for work.
This means that I’m washing my hair with my eyes open when I’m in the shower because I ain’t no Janet Leigh (in more ways than one, she was hawt!) and refuse to let some psycho with a knife make button holes on my body. Just seems like something I would want to avoid at all costs, you know?
Anyway. I usually leave the attack dogs on the loose so they may alert me of any intruders. This works as follows, Mocha barks her head off letting Tazz know that he has a tasty morsel on his turf. Tazz then goes and digs out his bib so he may dig in and savor any ruffians that happen to make the wrong decision by coming into his home. Burglar butt is his absolute favorite!
Christmas Eve, however, Andy had put Tazz in his kennel before he left and I was making banana pudding (not slang for anything, I was ACTUALLY making banana pudding) and then hurrying up to take a shower, I was too busy to let him back out of his kennel. Sooooo my only line of defense was that nutty airhead who would rather be petted than attack anybody.
I’m in the shower, singing my FALALALALAs with the radio blasting, when I hear Mocha go nuts. Odd, but she will also bark at dust bunnies, not that I have any ::wink::, so I’m not too worried until I hear Tazz’s malevolent growling and him throwing himself against his kennel making it rattle furiously.
I turn off the radio and listen intently.
I HEAR FOOTSTEPS!
CURSES!
The one day I kennel Tazz the Carnivorous is the one day intruders decide to steal my cool stuff!
Now I have to hurry up and rinse off so I may get dressed before I go investigate. I really don’t want to die naked, just don’t want that on my tombstone “here lies Bee, died in the shower with her white butt face up”.
Once I dried myself, I decided to put on lotion. The cold is making my skin too dry. Okay, clothes on… I should really brush my hair too. If I survive, I don’t want it to get all weird and frizzy.
Uh… since I’m brushing my hair, I might as well put makeup on. You know, in case I have to talk my way out of being reunited with Elvis, I want to look my best.
Then I notice Tazz isn’t growling anymore. He’s more like muttering. Mocha isn’t barking either but that could be because they distracted her with a cookie. Bitch!
I call out to Mocha BEFORE unlocking the door and NOTHING.
Okay, I have to make my way out there but I should call my sister and have her on the line in case she needs to call nine-one-one. This isn’t the first time she will be my lifeline in case of death. I once went to open The Chicken place and found the back door wide open. I called my sister and told her to listen while I walked around the joint with a machete looking for intruders. True story.
I grab my phone, yes I take it into the bathroom with me TRACY, notice I have a text message, decide to read it (kicking thievery ass can wait 2 minutes) and almost pass out with relief because it reads “I got the box ;)
I know that message means nothing to you guys but to me it means my sister drove to my house at the buttcrackofdawn to pick up a package her MIL had sent from the great big
She obviously didn’t trust me so she decided to make me die of fright instead!
I won’t lie to you, I am a little pissed but ultimately happy that it was her instead of a burglar. Especially because the only things I could have used to defend myself would have been my hairbrush and bleach spray. Bleach spray is way too expensive.
Oh yeah and Merry Christmas to all!!! I’ll catch you guys next week.
P.S.
If there are any lowlife thieves reading this, I also have nunchucks and a machete so don’t try to come rob this chick.
I just don’t keep them in the bathroom.
I was thinking the other day, I know SHOCKING, trying to remember details of my potting training. Was it easy? Did I catch on quick? Did they give me a cookie when I made pee-pee in the potty?
I'm sure I was a fast learner and did brilliantly! After all, I'm an expert potty goer now. It's true, ask anyone.
The reason I was wondering is because Scarecrow fell off the pot the other day. She's got a good 20 years on me so it stands to reason that she would know what she's doing by now.
Granted, the toilet lid was wobbly because it only had one screw left (that's what he said!) but it's been like that for at least 3 years.
When she walked back into the office and exclaimed "I fell off the toilet!" and after I was able to breathe and control my laughter, I did ask her what the hell she had been doing to fall off the damn thing, wiggling? I mean, it's not a bucking bronco or one of those electric bulls you see in jean knee's bars so the dismount shouldn't be too difficult. 
You already have your feet on the floor, hopefully, imagining gravity is around your butt area at the moment, you should only have to shift your center of gravity forward slightly to stand up. She's a skinny little thing so it's not as if she had to shift hundreds of pounds from one side to the other.
I'm no scientist and I'm sure the mathematician reading this might explain gravity better than I, but I've used those facilities with no unfortunate incidents (other than the usual encounters with the pig ladies who do not clean up after themselves)(hope you weren't eating). Then again, I'm very aware of my center of gravity and try to work with it?… or against it?... with I think… whatever! I do the one that doesn't have me falling off the gotdang pot!
She was a tad upset with me because I couldn't stop laughing but what is a girl to do? A girl with normal feelings and a desire to mock those around her. I think she was just being selfish in trying to curtail my fun.
I know I should be nice to her since she recently had open heart surgery but that was like 2 months ago. I'm sure she's fine now! Besides, it builds character and ultimately helps you heal. She should be thanking me, really.
I know you're jealous that I have all these awesome little happenings in my place of work but sometimes the powers that BE take pity on your poor, stepped upon soul and give you a few good pieces of material that have you salivating and wondering why you can't post live via live web cam.
It's something I've thought about but after hearing my voice when brother Dan and I did a duet to Sweet Child o' Mine, let's just say that tape was stepped on, burned and then fed to piranhas with a fixation for toxic chemicals.
My voice, while awesome to hear live, does not translate well into the airwaves. And Dan's is even worse. He sounds like a bagpipe on speed. He'll deny it though.
P.S.
Yes, I know gravity is everywhere. I did the whole water in a bucket and then swinging it around experiment too, centrifugal force I think it was, if you come here to learn things... SHAME ON YOU!
Also, this:
was installed on Saturday so we are no longer doing the Mexi-Style Shower. Yay!!!Okay you guys. You have to admit that the tiny black cloud that follows my household around is beginning to get a little irritating. I mean, don't the powers that be get tired of poking at us with their plungers? Sooner or later they'll have to move on and pick on somebody taller, faster, smarter…
I have mentioned we were having issues with our water heater. For the past few months, only one person could comfortably shower within an 8 hour period. The next person would be left with luke warm to icy cold water.
AND GOD HELP YOU IF YOU DID DISHES BEFORE ANDY TOOK A SHOWER!
We at least had some hot water. It worked out fine because I'd shower in the morning and Andy in the evening.
But then…
Thursday Morning approximately 6:30 AM
Andy:
Bee! We have a problem!!
Bee [startled out of a deep sleep where she was "dancing" with Brad Pitt]
huhn? Wha?
Andy:
The water heater isn't working!
Bee:
::sigh:: We knew that already
Andy:
No! It's not working at all now! There is NO hot water!
You'll have to get up and make my bagel so I can check it out.
Bee:
Make your bagel? It can't be THAT serious. [if my eyes had been open, I'm sure I would have rolled them]
Andy:
I don't have time for games, Bee. I'm already 20 minutes late.
Being the good wife that I am, I got up and spread cream cheese on his bagel. Done!
As Andy was running around doing Andy things [::rolls eyes::], I calmly grabbed my big pasta pot, filled it up with water, put it on the stove, gave Andy some matches so he could run back downstairs and continue his Andy things (even though my argument was to leave well enough alone since we would both be leaving for work and nobody would be home to save the dogs if the house went KABLOOM), I grabbed a 5 gallon Home Depot bucket, filled it up with water, finally talked Andy into shutting the water heater down completely and then had to explain to him what a Mexico Style Shower was.
Step One.
Put a full pot of water on the stove and wait for it to boil.
Step Two.
Grab a big 5 gallon bucket* (doesn't have to be from Home Depot but the orangeness of it makes everything more cheesy) and fill it with water.
Step Three.
Put 5 gallon bucket in bath tub.
Step Four.
Pour boiling hot water from pot into 5 gallon bucket.
Step Five.
Grab a little container to use as a pouring device. Preferably plastic.
Step Six.
Strip nahked and get into tub.
{picture of nahked woman}
Step Seven.
Pour water over yourself using the preferably plastic container.
Step Eight.
Lather, rinse repeat as needed.
I don't think I need to tell you what happens afterwards, right? The drying part should be something you already know.
I'm not going to lie to you, the water is warm but you will freeze precious parts of your body as the cold air hits you.
This is how we used to do it when I was younger and visiting my grandparents in Mexico. They only had one spigot where you could get water from so the bathrooms didn't have running water.
When I told Andy, he looked at me like I had grown 4 arms an extra leg and a turtle.
This is what happens when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You go to pieces when you have to rough it a little bit and freeze your nippies.
The differences in cultures sometimes amuse me to no end. When I told the ladies at work they were shocked and horrified. When I called SIL Crazy Ez and told her we had no hot water, she right away asked "How are you showering? Mexico Style?"
That's what I'm talkin' about!
My only worry was that I would be smelling and maybe tasting like Fettuccine Alfredo since that was the last thing I cooked in my pasta pot but then I thought "well who the hell DOESN'T want to smell like creamy garlic sauce?" I'm getting hungry just smelling myself.
*If you are a little on the larger side, you can use 2 buckets for extra freshness.
P.S.
Who the hell told the muppets they knew how to sing? Enough with the muppet specials already!
I am disappointed to report that Musing from Blogtations did not receive her Secret Santa Can Suck It! gift.
Ultimately that would be the worst gift I guess. You know, the NONgift? I don't want her to be the one person who shows up after having gone through the trouble of braving the malls, liquor stores and porn shops to get what they think their victim might like and then get nothing in return.
So...........................
Here are my gifts to her:
Guy in grass skirt.
Booze for after seeing guy in grass skirt.
For after the booze.
So you can take a nap after the alka seltzer.
A free trip to Hawaii for when you wake up. Full circle to the grass skirt dude.
I hope you like Hawaii, Musing. I would love to be there right about now!
Thanks to everybody who participated in Secret Santa Can Suck It! R2. You guys were very funny! Who knew? Just kidding.
Stay tuned tomorrow for another chapter in "How many more ways can the Cor-Ruts get screwed ?"
P.S.
Cindy Crawford makes me want to buy furniture.
p.P.s
You know you're serious about blogging when you want to call in sick just so you can reorganize your blog. Some call it pathetic I call it onetrackmindedawesomeness. So there!
So... I received a couple of emails from people that wanted to join the SSCSI (and a couple I begged to join because of their humor) but were too late. Since we had so much fun with the first one, I organized a smaller one but I'm sure it will be as funny as the first.
Please check out these participants and give them some comment love on the gifts they gave their victims.
Participants, go look to see who got you!
Kirsten @ The Soccer Mom Files
Chas @ My Neurotic Spot
Sassy @ Sassy & Opinionated (music)
Just a Girl @ Just a Girl
Father Muskrat @ Father Muskrat
Practically Joe @ Practically Wisdom
Meg @ Prefers Her Fantasy Life
Jamie @ Red Red Whine
Kritta22 @ Protect & Provide
Queen Goob @ This is my life.......so be it!
Musing @ Blogtations
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with! Once everybody has their posts up, I'll redo the links to the specific posts.
P.S.
We were finally able to cash our flood insurance check. Can I get a Hallelujah??
We are going to be living the good life with walls, hot water and everything! I know you're jealous but what can I say, I was born under a lucky star.
Okay, so it's been a long time since I had a nice long rant. I feel I've been neglecting my soul in not regularly purging the venom deep inside of me so today I will let loose ladies and gents. Are you all ready? If not raise your hands.
You. That person in the front with the audacity to raise your hand. You are dismissed and can go HERE.
Okay, as some of you may know, the Cor-Rut household was about to float away into the deep blue sea. Luckily, we had the foresight to anchor it to our pine tree before the flood came.
This event took place on 9/13/08. When did I file my flood claim? Same day, 9/13/08.
I posted here how the douchebags at my home owners washed their hands of us. How FEMA themselves came out and said we had minor damage and because we must be living on a mountain of gold covered turds, they were not offering us any help. But they did help those who only had an inch of water in their basement with no damage because they didn't have flood insurance so why not give them 3 grand?
Okay, our flood insurance finally sent us the check and I posted about that HERE saying how we needed to have the check signed by all parties involved. That would be the hubs, me and the 2 mortgage companies.
Here is where it gets wild!
We went to the first bank and spoke to some lady. She asked if we had started the paperwork to get an authorization for a signature. We said no because this was new to us and I asked her if she had the paperwork so we may fill it out.
Now, you'd think that they would have all the information necessary to guide their customers along something they had never done before and considering the traumatic events leading up to it, they would be more than happy to help, right?
Nope.
She told me to call the 800 number and ask them what to do, niiiice!
We left that bank and went to our primary mortgage holder bank where we were informed that the check had to be fully endorsed by us and the lame-nut bank we had just left before they would help. Once that was done they would take our check and send it to their mortgage department in Whothefuckknowswhwheresville so they could look it over, sign it and then mail it back to us.
I'm not sure if you know me by now but I'm not what you would call a trusting person by any stretch of the imagination. The bank guy seemed like a nice guy and I'm sure they go through an extensive background check that probably stops short of a prostrate exam but this is our money. Money we have been waiting for so we can do silly things like, put up walls, replace the water heater and pay the people who are schedule to come on 12/22 to seal our fuckin foundation! Thank the lord Andy was able to fix the furnace because we would have been a couple of gross tasting popsicles right about now.
Andy and I walked out of the bank feeling homicidal. We talked it over but really what was there to talk about? We had to do what they said.
Since it was Saturday, we had to wait until Monday to get the ball rolling.
On Monday, when I called the first lame-nut bank, after being transferred here and there, I was told that the turdlaced bank we went to the first time had the authority to sign the fuckin check. They suggested I have them call the home office if they had any questions.
ANOTHER DAY WASTED BECAUSE THEY CLOSE AT 5.
Tuesday, I left work early and headed to the bank. We explained the whole dealio to the bank rep. She called their home office and was transferred to about 5 different people until she was told that yes, they could sign the freakin' check.
We went to our primary mortgage holder and gave the nice guy our check but we did ask him for something in writing stating we were giving him the insurance check and to write down the amount. Can you believe they weren't going to give us a receipt?? Hello Vegas!!
Bee to Nice Bank Guy:
Where will they mail the check? I do not want a fully endorsed check accidentally going to my neighbor Wilson because he's been wanting a new riding lawn mower.
Nice Bank Guy:
I'm going to overnight it to the mortgage department and I'll have them mail it to this branch. It should be back within 5-7 days.
Bee and Andy walk out of the bank with a queasy feeling in their stomachs. But that could be because of the Buffalo Wings they ate.
5-7 days later, I call my new friend Mr. Nice Bank Guy and say:
"Yo' dude, where's mah monee??"
He doesn't know so he makes some phone calls and calls me back:
"The check was mailed to your home address on December 5th"
It was now the 11th, WTF? I kept an eye on my neighbors checking to see if they were walking around in new mink coats and what not but they were the same broke asses as before.
On the 13th we got our check in the mail. That is 3 months after we filed the claim. THREE MONTHS.
Let's forget about the fact that they sent it regular mail where any Peeping Tom, Drunk Doug or Nosey Ned could reach into my mailbox and take it and buy a months worth of happy endings.
We were happy since we finally had all the hassles over and done with! Whoopie! High Fives all around!
But wait. It seems too good to be true. No more new ulcers making themselves at home in my already holey stomach?
Yeah right!
Monday (yesterday) after work, Andy and I headed to our bank to deposit the check and we were in unusually good spirits. The stress had lifted, the freezing temps were no match for this feeling of relief.
Do you guys remember the little Asian lady who gave me a hard time for not signing with my husband's name on my paycheck? Well, she found a new way to twist our balls.
"Oh no. We no longer cash check for insurance without medallions."
What?
"We got memo this weeken. Other banks must sign and then stamp with medallion"
What I want to know is- whose fuckin nightmare I'm starring in. I need out right now!
I told them to give us our damn check and this was going to be the last time they saw us and our $30 savings account! That'll show 'em!
We are going to open a new account with the bank that has our mortgage. I'm guessing they won't give us any more shit or I will introduce them to my right foot with a follow up of left foot!
We couldn't go today because Mother Nature, bitch that she is, decided to dump a billion inches of snow on us so we'll have to go Wednesday.
To recap, insurance companies suck ass, FEMA sucks nuts and banks are the biggest douche bags of the lot!
I would really love to name names and tell you what banks I'm talking about so that they can search themselves and find out how much they suck but I don't need you crazy hackers stealing our $30 before we can buy more booze.
Ettarose from Sanity on Edge is hosting a Christmas Carnival for Humor Bloggers dot com where we are to post about "the worst/funniest Christmas gift I ever recieved". Here is my tale.
You know how when you're a teenager you only want cool things like music, money and maybe LA GEARs for Christmas?
Let's pretend I'm the ghost of Christmas past so I may take you back to a time when I was skinny.
A time when I was able to walk out of the house without make up and not scare wild animals.
A time when I could have my fill of pizza, soda and nachos without having severe, life threatening, middle of the night, heartburn.
It was the year of the Lord 1987. I was a young, cool and downright groovie 15 year old who decided to organize a class Christmas party.
We all chipped in and bought punch, chips and a piñata. We all know there were piñatas when Jesus was born.
We brought a *boombox*, some tapes, a stick (for the piñata) and we were ready to start the getting down and boogie-ing. Yep, as you can see, I'm still one cool chick-a-dee.
We also had a tiny grab bag exchange. I can't remember what the limit was but I'm sure it couldn't have been more than $5 since we were kids and about as broke as we are now.
I gave my person a cute little doll that was exquisite in its $4.99 value. What I got in return from a boy in my class was a little bit of a shocker. No, I did not get lingerie! Pervs.
I received the biggest, gaudiest, gold plated crucifix in the history of Popedom. It was about 5 feet tall and was on a chain so I may wear it around my neck.
REMEMBER, I WAS 15.
I still didn't have full control of my reactions. Instead of politely nodding my head and saying "thank you", a little snort escaped my lips before I could stop it. The poor kid stared at me and you could see his little heart beginning to break kinda like how Lisa broke Ralph's heart. 
I quickly saved my mean faux pas by saying I had gotten one for my mom just like it so I was just amused by the coincidence.
But seriously?
I didn't want my neck to turn green from the gold plated chemical stuff rubbing itself on me like that weirdo at Kmart. I lived in California where walking from your door to the street left puddles of sweat in your wake.
That last thing I wanted hanging around my neck at the age of 15, was a leash preventing me from the sins I was still trying to commit.
I would have been happy with a pack of saladitos and some pop rocks. I really didn't want to be the female version of Mr. T. 
I have no idea what became of the kid or the gigantic cross he gave me. I remember hitting the dance floor and not stopping with the shakin of my thang to Lucky Star until we were shut down because of the noise.
Maybe somebody thought it was real gold because of its shininess and stole it? Maybe the Illuminati has it in its caves of jewels, money and other volumes of the bible? Maybe I dreamed the whole thing and I actually got a pen?
Now that it is 20 years later and some of the wacky tabacky has done damage to my brain cells, we may never know.
So... those of us who know and love our Tracy, know she has a thing about numbers. She hates being #13 when commenting so doing post #666 was enough to send her looking for a priest and dunking herself in a pool full of holy water. She rethought the pool since it's winter in West Virginia and she is not fond of frostbite.
Then she came up with a great idea, why not ask me, the resident evil Queen of the Anti-Socialites, to take the bullet for her.
Near as I can tell, my seat in hell was reserved back when I was about 11 and I talked my two younger brothers into ditching summer school. 2 days in a row. Except my brother Dan was a big wimpy momma's boy so he didn't ditch the second day and then tattled (I still owe you a good kick in the assteroid for that one, Dan!).
Anyway, now that we have established I have no fear, I'd like to tell you guys about my day. And you'll read it because I will take you down to helltown as my guests if you don't.
Go over to Tracy's and read:
The adventures of Bee, the inept baby-sitter!
P.S.
Sunday is the last day to let me know if you want to join the Secret Santa Can Suck It! *Gift* Swap, round two.
I have a couple of people who were in round one who would like to be in round two. That is coolio, yo!
Email me at beesmusings[at]gmail.com to join.
Here are the rules:
I tell you who your victim is and you post a picture (or pictures) of what you would have given them as their Secret Santa if you cared, had money, knew them etc. Only rule is no naked people.
Who you got should not be revealed until the assigned day so that everybody is surprised.
So... my unlucky victim is Magpie from Mine, by magpie since her blog is about her life and her beautiful crafts, I decided to try and make her something with my own hands.
WITH. MY. OWN. HANDS!!
I figured she would appreciate it more since the Holidays are all about the feelings and what not.
I went to Michael's and Joann Fabrics and picked up some glitter, tulle, M&Ms, a cat, some fishing wire, buttons, wiggly eyes, googly eyes (yes, there is a difference), a tomato, a slinky, 1/3 of a mask and some hot chocolate.
I took my goodies and sat at my peninsula, THE SAME ONE THAT HAS SOME OLD GLUE FROM A PREVIOUS "PROJECT", and started on my gift.
I decided to make her a puppet because I'm Ameri-Mexican.
Andy hated my first try. He said something about my mind and gutter but he was drinking scalding hot chocolate so he could have been high.
My next try was a little bit more ethnic but Andy said some dude named Jeff Dunham had one just like it.
He suggested I should look into my past and take inspiration from that.
Okay. Back to the sticky drawing board!
As I sewed and glued, cut and drank, swore and pierced, I realized I was beginning to lose my mind a little bit more. I found myself sticking my hand up the bums of old dolls and saying
"Will you be my puppet, poppet?' 
But!
I was finally able to finish my masterpiece!
It's not as pretty as anything Magpie would make but I know she'll appreciate the blood, sweat and tears that went into making it.
Happy Holidays Magpie and you're Welcome!!
ττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττττ
All the Secret Santa Can Suck It! participants are on my side bar. If you are one of them, go look for your *gift*!
And now I'm off to find some turpentine and a lighter... that gets rid of crazy glue on the skin, right?
You know how sometimes you wish you could tell your boss to go give a rusty tailpipe a good suck ?? The reason you don't do it is usually because you need your job for crazy things like food, stuff to keep your body warm (this could be clothes or prostitutes because I don't judge… much), stuff for your kids (this could be medicine or Tequila, again, I don't judge), sparkly jewels and shoes.
Instead, you seethe quietly- or as quiet as yelling that you are sick and tired of this pompous asshole and one day you will bump into him in a dark alley and make him eat 4 day old shrimp that was marinated in mayonnaise and cooked on a car engine! can be.
So you sit at your desk, doodle hangmen, while at the same time typing a report you have verbally given him a million times but he insists on seeing it written up with the dates and periods and comas and yes, it will take you half a day but he does pay your salary so suck it up you whiny complainy little pissant (I have learned a new word since spell-check is telling me pissant is actually puissant: powerful; mighty; potent- which I would think would be an antonym of pissant… your thoughts) )and do as he says!!!
Then.
Then your devious little mind concocts a great plan. A way for you to tell that overfed gasbag exactly how you feel and what he can do with his job.
You go back to that 6 page document you just labored over and make a few key letters bold. A few key letters that if you look at them intently might spell out a secret message.
Please see below example:
You left this chart next to my phone on my desk and I was wondering if you still needed it right away or if it could wait until tomorrow or Wednesday? As always, just leave a note on the chart with your instructions on my desk and I will get to it as soon as I come back to the office.
If this message were taken to a special lab, it may be decoded as follows:
You can kiss my ass jerk off!
How do you like me now oh powerful OZ!!??
I know some of you might be thinking I'm full of shit and I didn't do it but I so fuckin did. I did and he read it with no clue. But the best part?
After I spent hours on the report and he read the whole thing, he said:
"My mistake, I gave you the wrong patient name. I meant this guy." because he can find no fault in your work and now needs you to be distracted with yet another project!
And so touché you turd licking toe sniffer. You have won again and all that's left is for me to wait for you in a dark alley.
P.S.
My Christmas tree timbered (fell) because of that brand spankin' new tree stand. I told you guys about the Snowmen, right??? They. Are. Assholes.
While I was sniffing out the best tree, Andy went to find a brand spanking new tree stand. Alas the husband came back all sad facey because he could not find them and he walked inside Home Depot and looked all over. I asked, "Babe, did you ask someone?" and he said "yes" but of course this person was not going to be helpful! 
Snowmen can be such assholes!
Somebody must have moved all these over by the trees when he wasn't looking! I told you the Snowmen could be such assholes!
Then we took it to the 
Sorry about the bad lighting again. Maybe one day I'll get that Electrician I've been asking for for Christmas.
P.P.S.So... Nooter The Dog tagged me with a scent meme. I'm to list 5 good smells and 5 bad smells. I decided to let Tazz and Mocha take this Meme and run with it. And then come back and leave it at my feet so I could throw it again and then they'll fight over the meme and Tazz will growl and Mocha will pee then expose her belly as a sign of submission. That's how Andy and I are... only he's Mocha ;o)
Tazz:
Okay Mocha we are supposed to list five smells we don't like and five we do. Mocha? MOCHA!
Mocha:
What?? I was trying to eat that squirrel that sits on the fence but I kept crashing into an invincible force field!
Tazz:
It's called a window, airhead!
Mocha:
Whatever stank breath! And that is one of the smells I don't like, your bad breath. (1)
Tazz:
Oh yeah? What about that time you threw up and rolled in it? That wasn't pleasant at all! (2)
Mocha:
Look who's talking! You bathe once a month because you hate water! You always smell like cheesy fritos! ... But I like that smell. (1)
Tazz:
Remember the time the dorky man left his sausages where I could reach them and started yelling when he found out I ate them?? Those smelled really good but tasted better! (2)
Mocha:
I wouldn't know since you always bite my legs when I try to sniff the food. I like to smell pretty lady's hair. (3)
Tazz:
Me too! I used to like smelling dorky man's fingers when he came home from work. I think it was because of those thin sticks that were hot at the tip that would make him blow smoke from his mouth. I was sad when he stopped buying those. That's why I tried to escape that one year, so I could go to the neighbor whose mouth is always smoking. (4)
Mocha:
Blech! I hated that smell! (3) He would come pet me and I would make this noise :kkkhrrmmm: :kkkhrrmmm: I was pretending I was going to throw up and he'd leave me alone. Not such an airhead now am I frito butt!
Tazz:
Remember that time you got into the recycle bin and drank the leftover booze? You were walking into walls, more than usual, and asking for your mommy. ha ha ha I hate the smell of booze! (4)
Mocha:
No, instead you like to sniff the cleaning products! The smell of bleach makes my eyes go googly and I hate it. (5)
Tazz:
I have to say that my all time favorite smell is coffee. Pretty lady once got distracted and left a garbage bag with coffee grinds that drove me to chew a hole at the bottom and inhale the grinds right into my system. The best score EVER! (5) AND CHEESE CAKE!
Mocha:
You are so weird. Hey! I smell Blue Cheese!
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Thanks to everybody who has joined the Secret Santa Can Suck It! we have about 38 people so far and it is going to be great! I'll email everyone Monday evening with their respective uh, people. Remember it's a secret so once I tell you, don't go over to the person and say "Hey I'm your secret Santa Booga Booga!".
No. No. Don't do it. I'd like everybody's "gift" to be up on Thursday 12/11 (of 2008) so we can all laugh together. The way I figured to do it, is to post a links with everybody's Site name where you go looking for your "gift". Does that sound good?
Suggestions are always welcome! Mostly.
P.S.
Does anybody else mess up when spelling Santa and keep typing Satan? Or is it just me?
If you could create a reality show what would it be?
Okay, I’m going to tell you but if I see it on MTV or worse, VH1, I know who to come looking for.
My reality show idea would be about the life of a cock fighter. Not the owners of the cocks but the cocks themselves. You have to wonder what drove those poor fowls into the life of kill or be killed. I mean, were they beaten by their step-daddies? Were they constantly mocked by chicks because of their peckers? I stumbled across a beat up cock once back in the 90s. He couldn’t do a straight line and always wound up leaning left. It was a sad sad sight.
GO HERE <-click there NOW AND LEAVE ME A COMMENT!
Please.
And don't forget about my post below this. Yeah, I know I'm bossy but you know you love it!
Uh, please?
I was listening to my radio show this morning (again, not really MINE as in I own it but mine as in I listen to it) and they came up with a gift exchange that I loved! They are going to wrap up pictures of what they would have bought the person they got if they had the money.So... for the first time ever! I am hosting the first annual! Never done before on this blog!
SECRET SANTA CAN SUCK IT GIFT SWAP!P.S.
