Monday, December 31, 2012

Happy New Year!

Well dear readers, 2012 is coming to a close.  It has been a pleasure exploring and evaluating life with you, labeling and classifying all of the precious rare birds that exist in our society.  This year we've learned all kinds of things, like the importance of checking in with all our little closet psychos.  We received advice on selecting good mates to procreate with.  We’ve discovered the reason why some men just don’t stand a chance and never will with some women.  We’ve covered proper etiquette in a civilized society, and the need to keep your fucking disgusting germs to yourself.  We came to the tragic realization that most sexual experiences last about 7 measly minutes.  We figured out where the boys have been hiding.  We discussed alternative forms of child discipline and different motivational techniques we can use for said children.  We learned that one’s choices and others’ sympathy levels go hand-in-hand.  We learned that we are all prostitutes for some corporation, and will continue to be until we pursue our dreams.  We understand the importance of confidence, and how one’s strut can change one’s life.  We learned that everyone walking around here is not quite human, no matter how life-like.  Finally, we now know that Lucas McKenzie will never consume your hacked-in chili.

That said, I thank all of my readers for being so loyal throughout the year!  I’m sure 2013 will be a hot mess, so please check back in for the usual break-down!  Have a safe, happy, healthy New Year!  You rare little strange ass damn birds.    

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Dirty Chili

If you read the last post, you are already aware that some nasty little bugs and their hosts are going around our office.  Sometimes I think they are in competition to see who can sneeze the loudest and the moistest.

In what has got to be the worst timing ever, we are having a chili cook-off on that same bio-hazard of a floor tomorrow.  Members from each team have been enlisted to prepare their best chili with the hopes of being crowned the champion and raising some money for charity.  Sounds perfectly fine and innocent right?

Wrong.  Today I overheard someone ask one of the Top Contaminators if she was making any chili.  With enthusiasm, she said "Yes!"  I already wasn't planning on having any, but that right there sealed the deal. This whore has no shame when it comes to spreading her illness.  She coughs loud with her mouth open and uncovered, sounds like she's dying, doesn't wash or sanitize her hands afterward, and refuses to take any medication to control it.  If she is that loose at work with it, I already know what the deal is at home.  She probably licks her spoons. 

With that, I shall not be indulging in any chili.  I will donate to the cause, but I shall not eat.  I also shall not be a victim of the abandon shit,  which I'm sure will be going down tomorrow when those tummies start burbling from all that chili.  

I can't do humanity.  

Friday, November 30, 2012

Bitch, Please Get Better

I think I've already made pretty clear my disdain for illness and public places.  I just feel like it's one of the most inconsiderate, rude things you can do to another person.  Especially in the workplace.

I like to call my office the Petri Dish, aka The Cesspool, because that's what it is.  All I hear all day everyday is coughing, wheezing, and sneezing.  Some of those sneezes are quite moist.  It is an infirmary.  I watch bugs and viruses spread like the wave in a crowded football stadium on a hot summer day.  It'll start at the top of the row, then work its way down, hopping on to every victim in its path.  To make matters worse, our windows do not open, so all that air is just circulating and recirculating, getting more disgusting by the minute.

It's the nastiest shit on planet earth.  There really should be a law against coming to work sick.  As an employer, I'd want a legitimately sick employee to stay home because I wouldn't want them infecting my workforce.  Pretty soon everyone will be calling out because of one person.  How much sense does that make?  And we play this same silly little game, year after year, sometimes more than once per year.  Riddle me this, would you come to work if you had the Bubonic Plague?

I don't go down without a fight though.  I down Airborne like shots of Patron.  I sanitize my hands frequently throughout the day.  And when my sick coworkers leave, I secretly wipe down their telephone pads, keyboards, and mice.  Obsessive, I know, but this is war, people!  You have to fight for your right to stay healthy!  Being sick not only sucks but it is expensive as hell.  I feel like laying my receipts for Airborne and cough drops on the culprits' desks.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying I never get sick.  The only difference between myself and my cohorts is that if I'm snotting out of the nose, I stay my ass home.  If I cough and a wad of some sort enters my throat, I stay my ass home.  If I can barely speak because my voice is gone, I stay my ass home.  This rarely happens because I fight the good fight, but it does happen from time to time.  Why can't others have the same sense of courtesy?  It's almost like, "Oh well, I'm sick now.  Who cares who else gets sick.  At least we'll long-suffer together."  Fuck the entirety of that shit.  It's nasty.  And it's rude.  Bitch, please get better.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Problem With Money

Welp, the PowerBall drawing just passed, and there are a lot of grumpy non-millionaires out there this week.  Buck up! While this Jackpot might not be yours, there will always be chances at others.

I personally don't think the average citizen needs access to that kind of money.  We already know that half of them are the rarest of the rare birds, and the others are just flat-out fucking crazy.  Aside from that, the real problem with having money is that it takes away all of life's usual worries, and replaces them with the scariest thing of all:  yourself.

When you are rolling in dough, you don't have to worry so much about bills and getting up, going to work everyday.  If your car breaks down, you either have another car(s) or you have an ample supply of money to repair your vehicle.  You can pay your utility and service bills months or years in advance.  Your home(s) might be paid for in full, leaving only the property taxes.  If you get sick you can afford top quality healthcare.  Your kids' tuition was paid for before they were born.  And on and on and on.  In short, you are not worried about survival.  

When this basic worry is removed, it frees the mind up to meet itself.  This is a horrifying prospect for most people, which is why they either can't stand to be alone, or remain extremely busy so as not to get still too long.  When you get still is when all the issues come out, honey.

Why do you think so many rich people are on the hardest drugs money can buy?  Or into super-kinky freak sex?  They've been left alone with themselves too long.  Probably with no one really checking in.  Why do you think they get into petty cat-fights for the world to see on reality television?  They don't have anything else to do.  This leaves nothing but interpersonal issues to address.  Barring some natural disaster or severe mismanagement of the funds, the only thing the rich really have to worry about is keeping themselves alive.

So friends, if you didn't win this time, just be thankful that you've still got your life and all its issues to anchor you in reality.  Once your worries are gone, your increase your likelihood of becoming a weirdo.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Those Are Their Feelings!

I'm about to free a whole lot of y'all, right now.  I recently came into a concept that changed my life forever.  I'm going to tell you the name of this concept in a moment, but I'd like to explain it to you first.

Have you ever found yourself taking on someone else's feelings, as though they were your own?  Have you ever found yourself doing something or going somewhere you didn't want to go, to preserve the feelings of another person?  To keep them from being angry, upset, or disappointed?  Or to make them happy?  Have you ever been concerned with another person's approval or disapproval?  Have you ever held yourself accountable for something that was really someone else's responsibility?

Welp, if you answered 'yes' to any of the above questions, I am here to tell you my friends that those are their feelings.  They belong to them.

What do you mean?

Allow me to explain by using examples.  Say at work you have to make an uncomfortable phone call.  You know the customer or client on the other end of the phone is not going to be pleased.  They might even be pissed.  You, however, have done everything within YOUR power, but the outcome is not one the customer is going to be happy with.  Well, sorry, that's their anger.  It's not your anger.  And even if you called with good news, their happy reaction belongs to them, too.  You may think you had something to do with it, but you really didn't.  Their feelings belong to them.

Here's another example.  Let's say it's your turn to go in traffic, but you don't have a clear shot.  Every time you make a move to go, a car jumps in your lane.  Now the people behind you are getting impatient.  They're shifting all in their seats, moving their heads around, throwing their hands up, and finally, blowing their horn.  While you might be an idiot driver, at the end of the day you have to be sure, and that is THEIR impatience.  The impatience belongs to them.  Who are you to prevent another human being from feeling impatient?  You are not God.  From time to time in life, we shall feel impatient.

It may seem cold and callous, but it's really not.  It's recognizing that you have no control over another person's feelings, and that you as a mere mortal cannot make someone else feel or not feel a certain way.  If someone tries to give you their anger, kindly fold it up and hand it right back to them.  It is theirs, after all.  If someone feels disappointed with you, recognize that that's their disappointment, and life can sometimes be well, disappointing.

Once you really get a hold of the concept, it truly shall set you free.  You'll start to see it everywhere.  If you want to do more research on your own, it's called CO-DEPENDENCY!

Giving Them Ideas

I was watching the sorry-ass news this morning, and they did an expose 'alerting' shoppers to a new scam involving gift cards.  I won't give the details of the scam here, because then I would be acting just like them.

The point of it all is that the news basically gave you a step-by-step breakdown of how to complete this particular scam.  It's something the average person would never think of, and yet, is such a simple scam.  I couldn't believe the news laid it out for them, just like that.  It's something a part-time or lazy criminal could pull off.

This is not the first time the news or media in general has given people ideas.  I believe all crime-related shows are nothing more than reverse training.  Here's what NOT to do, so you don't get caught.  I believe all of these shows should be removed from the airways.  One, because it truly is giving these fools ideas and Two, I just don't think meditating on murder is healthy.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Toodles To The Twinkie

While I think it's very unfortunate that 18,000+ people stand to lose their jobs due to corporate greed, has the world really lost anything now that Twinkies, Ding-Dongs, and Ho-Hos will no longer be available?

Isn't this the country whose population on the whole, is overweight?  The place where some parents will live longer than their children due to the childhood obesity epidemic?  The place where diabetes has sky-rocketed over the last 20 years?  I'm just sayin, do we really need Donettes?

Again, very tragic that so many people will lose their jobs.  But bravo to the employees for standing their ground and refusing to be slaves to the corporation.  Toodle-Loo, Twinkie!

5000 Hits!

Today, Things I Tell Monica got it's 5000th hit!  Seems like just the other day we were celebrating 1000.  I would like to thank each and every one of you for tuning in for the fun and the foolishness.  Rather you've been with me since day one, or are new to Things I Tell Monica, you are appreciated.  Please continue to check in and share the posts, and don't forget to tell a friend!  Really, it's selfish if you keep this to yourself.  

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Double Update! Sex's Got You Broke & There's Always A Bitch

I am pleased to bring you all a dual update fresh out of our nation's capital.

When I first heard the news about General Petraeus' resignation, my initial and immediate response was, "There's definitely a bitch involved, somewhere."  Before the hour was over, the news was already reporting on the alleged affair with his biographer.  This has set off a chain of investigations and probes into this man's personal and private life, and on top of all that, he's out of a job.

Broke.  Broke Phi Damn Broke.  Now I'm sure he has money stored away and trust funds and other sources of income, but you're missing the point.  His primary source of income and his pride were stripped from him, all over some lil' funky-ass, tired, bland, 7-minute sex!

We addressed both of these issues in Sex's Got You Broke and There's Always a Bitch.  Perhaps if he had read them, he wouldn't be in the mess he's in today.

Dear readers, please do not allow yourselves to be out here going broke behind some damn sex!

Update! Death Adder

This is something I haven't really done until now, but I think it's high time to bring to the attention of my wonderful readers, things we've already discussed that are now gaining national attention.  It's important to know that you will hear many things here, first, before the rest of the world catches on!

So let's begin.  Today they ran a story about 5 Hour Energy drinks and how they may be linked to 13 deaths, possibly more.

Ummm, didn't we discuss this already in a post entitled Death Adder?  I mean, are you surprised?  Aren't you kind of asking for it in a way, if you consume this beverage?  Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy a fine energy beverage.  I am not entirely against them.  However, one should make sure they are healthy enough to drink them, and more important, one should not consume 8 of those bitches in one day.

My advice to you all is to stock up on your favorite brand, because as this keeps happening, the FDA will eventually ban them and energy drinks will be the new crack!

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Calling To Be Normal

Today I got a phone call from a guy I met three years or so ago at one of my former jobs.  I knew he didn't have good sense back then, but today really put the icing on the cake.  Now, he didn't try to hit on me or anything like that, but that fool was always selling something.  Always something that felt slightly illegal and highly pyramid-ish.  The conversation today went a little something like this:

Hello, Lucas?  
Hey "Morris," what's going on?  
Oh nothing much, I was just calling to say hello.  I heard you moved out of town.  
This would be true.  
Oh yeah?  That's great!  Me myself, I got out of that old industry I was in.  It just wasn't for me.  

Now let's pause here.  I was excited, thinking, Wow!  He finally realized what he was doing was a pyramid scheme!  Thank goodness he saw the light.  But I spoke too soon.

Oh well that's unfortunate. 

It's okay.  I'm with a new company now and I'm so excited about it.  It deals with health and fitness, are you into those things?

As soon as he asked the question, I knew what was coming.

I want you to check out this website: and let me know what you think!  I know you're a smart girl who knows lots of smart people. Perhaps you can put me in touch with those people. 


What really ticked me off about all this was the fact that I thought he was actually calling to be normal. Who, after 3 years of not speaking to someone, calls and tries to sell them something? Random-ass strange fucking rare birds, that's who.

Honey, I'm not checking out the website, and I'm not answering the phone if he calls back, either.  Now I see why people change their phone numbers so often!

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Boo-Hoo-Hoo For Your Choices!

Tonight I accidentally began watching No Country For Old Men.  Indeed it's not, because EVERYONE was dead within the first five minutes of that bitch.

Aside from that, the main character happened to stumble across a group of dead drug dealers and their load of cash.  One of the men was barely clinging to life and he kept asking for water.  Well, buddy didn't have any water.  So, he takes the money and hightails it out of there.  The movie could have ended here, because he got home Scot-free and about 2 million dollars richer.

Welp, some people just aren't satisfied until they get that ass broken off.  Our new millionaire was lying in bed, tossing and turning because he couldn't get the thirsty dope-peddler out of his mind.  Instead of laying there, shaking it off, and planning his move out of town, homeboy gets out of bed, fills a gallon jug full of water, and returns to the scene of the crime.

Naturally, the perpetrators return to the scene juuuuust as he was about to deliver the water.  They chase him down, shoot at him, sic their dog on him, and make that man swim like Michael Phelps across some raging rapids to his almost certain death.  By a very thin thread, he escapes.  Now he's on the run from both the law and some bloodthirsty drug dealers.

Now, you may feel inclined to feel sorry for this individual, but I don't.  Boo-Hoo-Hoo-De-Damn-Hoo for your choices! You chose to carry your ass back out there.  You chose to deliver your water slowly and by foot.  You chose to take those people's money.  You chose that shit, so I really don't feel all that sorry for you.

I've never seen this movie before, so it'll be interesting to see how it all turns out.  But I want you all to start thinking in terms of Boo-Hoo-Hoo for your choices.  When that coworker, friend, family member, or complete stranger starts loading you down with their life's issues, sort out those that they had no control over, and those that they had complete control over.  You too will be saying Boo-Hoo-Hoo!

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Don't You Die In Here!

One day when I was a teaching, we had a pretty scary near-death experience in my classroom.

It was a Monday morning, and I was sharing the room with another teacher.  It was technically his class at the time, so I was sitting at my desk grading papers.  Well, the bell rang and all of the students got up and left with the exception of one.  He was lying face down on his desk with his arms limp at his side. 

The other teacher walked over and began shaking him, "Billy, get up."  Billy, wake up!"  At this point I became alarmed and my instincts kicked in.  I stood up at my desk and said: 

"Oh hell no!  Oh hell no!  Wake the hell up Billy!  Don't you die in here!  Go outside and die by the front office, but don't you die your ass in here!  That's too much damn paperwork!"

Something I said must have made his soul jump back into his body, cause the little bastard woke up.  Turns out he was high on a combination of sleeping pills, Robitussin  marijuana, and Xanax (this wasn't the little red schoolhouse, this was an alternative school for teens).  

I warned all of my other classes that if they felt the need to OD and half-die, they need to take that shit outside.  I don't need the coroner and investigators and police officers and news outlets all in my face asking me about how you managed to die on my watch.  

Now do you see why I got out of teaching???

STDs Aside

The following is a Public Service Announcement, brought to you by Lucas McKenzie.

Ya know, there are many reasons not to have unprotected sex, including unplanned children, financial strain, and STDs.  But STDs aside, allow me to offer you another reason not to have unprotected sex:  some people don't wash well.  

The need for vaginal cleanliness speaks for itself, but men have various crevices and folds that need to be addressed, too.  Some men just splash water on it and go, thinking it doesn't need special attention because it's not a vajay.  Well sir, it does because currently---it's a bacteria factory.

This has been a Public Service Announcement, brought to you by Lucas McKenzie.  

Trapper Keepers

I have a coworker who can be described as none other than a Trapper Keeper.  If you are lucky enough to walk away or have the phone ring within the first minute of her story, you'll be okay for about 3 hours.  Until she strikes again.  However, if you make the mistake of letting the conversation run beyond one minute, you'll be trapped for the next 15.

I really wonder what makes a person think you have the free time to listen to 15 minutes of nonsense, twice a day, everyday.  Sometimes more.  That shit adds up over time, and before you know it, we're all behind.  Brevity is truly a lost art.

I try to avoid Trapper Keepers at all costs.  If I spot one in the grocery store, I'll duck off down an aisle and hide behind a display.  When I see them at work, I pretend someone called my name and make a hard left down a row of cubicles.  If, however, I become entangled with one of these people, all I can do is hope and pray some divine presence intercedes and frees me from the web.

The Tall Man

There is yet another scary movie out that involves a man lurking in the woods outside of a home.  This time, however, the man is TALL.

Honey, bypass those trash cans and come on in this house.  I'll have dinner ready in about 20 minutes.  My goodness, what are you like 8...9 feet tall?  You look a little cold, should I turn on the heater?  Here's some hot cocoa, Suga.

I don't know what's up with this new trend in Hollywood, but I like it!

Monday, October 1, 2012

Trying To Cheat

Ya know, it really annoys me when people try to do dirt, and aren't even good at or confident in their ability to pull it off.  Lately, my friends and I have run into a lot of wannabe cheaters.  Men in committed relationships who are doing the relationship equivalent of sticking their toe in the water to see how cold it is.

It's hilarious to watch, really, because you can see the guilt all over their face as they attempt to arrange a cheat.  That guilt has that face all twisted up, and makes them move in awkward and uncomfortable ways.  Their speech becomes choppy and they seem to scold themselves right after the words slip out of their mouths.  It's the funniest thing ever.

One of my close friends met a guy recently who confessed to having a pair of lips tattooed on his chest.  LIPS people!  Come to find out, he's actually married, and is out here trying to cheat on somebody.  Boy sit down, you have lips on your chest!  How are you out here trying to cheat on somebody with lips on your chest?

Then there was an experience I had of my own.  I ran into an old classmate that I hadn't seen since high school.  He and I exchanged numbers and really just caught up over the phone.  Well, after a pleasant conversation, I got a text message about 30 minutes later from him.......with his shirt off.

Really guy?  To make matters worse, about a week later he changed his relationship status to 'engaged' and posted pics of he and his fiancee's engagement photos!?  I said, "Look at this asshole out here trying to cheat."  And not even any good at it.  What if I had accidentally hit 'share' on that delightful little photo you sent me?  Then what?

Just lousy.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Man In The Window

Or whatever the hell the name of the actual movie is.  Alls I know is that it's scary.  I'm really not a fan of scary movies in general, mostly because THEY'RE SCARY!  Also, one really has to wonder about the person who thinks up, writes down, and publishes these story-lines.  As a parent, how would you feel knowing your 12 year old son is in his room daydreaming about dismemberment?  Do you really want to live under the same roof as that?  I just don't think it's the mark of a healthy mind.

Anyway, there is some new movie out whose basic plot is that if you happen to catch a glimpse of this very strange-looking man in the woods or in your window, he comes into your house, your mind, haunts you, kills you, maims you, etc. etc.  I'm guessing the all-around goal is to not see they guy.  Or whatever.

Honey, this couldn't be me.  If I see your ass lurking outside of my window, I'm liable to tell you to bring the trash cans in.  If you somehow infiltrate the home, please believe you will be fixing faulty light switches and hooking up dvd players.  Don't lurk unless you wanna be put to work.  I don't care if you are a damn ghost.  That's even better!  That means you shouldn't tire easily.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Kidnap Comfort

I'm just sayin', if I find myself in a kidnapping-style situation, I'm really gonna try to make the most of it.  It's like an involuntary vacation.  How can your job be mad at you if you've been kidnapped?  They can't fire you for that.  Cooking, cleaning, other household chores?  Sorry kids, not while I'm kidnapped.

I'm going to try and reason with my kidnappers.  Can we stop off by Wal-Mart and get some trial sized items, please?  I know I'm gonna want to brush my teeth after a few days.  Soap is definitely in order, as well as some hand sanitizer.  I'd also like to pick up a few snacks and some bottled water.

Why make life difficult for each other?  This doesn't have to be dramatic.  You're holding me for ransom or whatever, I'm just chillin until you get whatever it is you need.  In the meantime, I can provide a listening ear and perhaps some helpful tips for life.  This can be a mutually beneficial situation.

It's all about planning ahead, people.


Today I saw a woman whose calves and thighs were about the circumference of my forearm.  And she wasn't anorexic, she was just that thin.  Now I'm no lesbian, but if I were a man, I just wouldn't want a woman that skinny.  I imagine myself walking through the house, turning around too fast, and accidentally bumping into the side of her leg, effectively snapping it in half.  Try explaining that one to the police officers and EMTs who show up to assist her.

I'm good.  That's just too much of a liability.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Lucas After Dark: That's A Whole Lotta Fuckin'

Have you ever looked out across a crowded stadium and considered just how much fuckin' went into producing all those human beings?  I mean, really stop and think about it.  Every single person you see in those stands is the result of some tired ass lil' fuckin'.

This is truly mind-boggling if you take the time to give it some serious thought.  Sex created all of these people, and I guarantee you most of it wasn't gratifying.  The sheer number of people on this earth makes it seem like human beings don't do anything else with their free time.  And we have the nerve to criticize rabbits.  Ha!

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Backspace, Bitch

As Things I Tell Monica readers, part of your duty is to go out and combat stupidity on a daily basis.  By all means have a good laugh, then carry forth what you've learned into the world.

It's time to address the issue of illiteracy once and for all.  If you are over the age of 18, of sound mind and body, and have never been diagnosed as dyslexic or otherwise learning disabled, there is little excuse for poor grammar and absolutely no excuse for poor spelling!  The only time it should happen is when you're doing it on purpose, as is frequently done in this blog.  What's important though, is that I know when I'm writing something incorrectly, as it's usually done for effect.  A lot of adult men and women, however, do not know when they are writing something wrong, and they're usually the first ones to post it loud and proud for the world to see.  Unfortunately, nothing makes a person look more unintelligent than when said post is loaded up with spelling and grammatical errors.

I think it bothers me on such a deep level because some words are "sight words," meaning you should be able to recognize them and spell them with ease because you've seen them so many times in your life.  I'll never forget the day a student came up to me and asked, "Ms. McKenzie, how do you spell 'white?'"  I gave him the blankest stare, because here is a young man who has survived 15 years on this planet, and yet, cannot spell the word 'white.'  Bitch, your tennis shoes are white.  Surely you remember the white crayon..  The word is on TV and in movies all the time.  It's in the names of some of your favorite songs.  How in the hell can you not know how to spell 'white?'

One of my coworkers I shall never respect because that fool can't spell to save his life.  A few of his classics:  passangers (passengers), ergent (urgent), receet (receipt).  Now, receipt is kinda hard, I'll admit that.  But you've got to at least recognize that 'receet' is wrong!  Haven't you held a thousand receipts in your hand at this point in your life?

Finally, Facebook.  I have unsubscribed from more friends on account of spelling and grammar errors than for any other reason.  I'm not talking the occasional typo or mix-up (their vs. there).  I'm talking the chronic, grotesque, shameful spelling errors that make me wonder why I'm friends with you on FB in the first place.  It shows such a sorriness...such a laziness, that I can't even stand to see it in my feed.  I know a lot of folks have smart phones with auto-text that causes them to write things they didn't mean to, but that's why they make backspace bitch. Read what you just wrote, and if it isn't what you meant to say, rewrite it!?  Just because you wrote it once doesn't mean it has to stick.  There are do-overs in writing.

With all that said dear readers, do your best to not to make yourselves look dumb as hell in the public eye.  The world will already have an opinion formed about you, why help contribute to a negative one?

Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Seven Second Analysis

You know how they say a woman knows rather or not she wants to sleep with, deal with, be with, or know a man within a few seconds of meeting him?  Well, this is very true!  What varies are the qualifiers each woman is using within that time frame.  My analysis tends to run along the lines of:

Does this man believe in himself?

Is he independent and resourceful?

Does he appear well-groomed and well-nourished?

Is this man taken?

Does he appear to be disenfranchised?

Is this man a strange, rare bird?

Does his life appear to be dictated by his dick?

Is this a man of confidence?

Do his eyes communicate some degree of lunacy?

Does he have a zest for life?

Is this man even human?

Does this man have good sense?

I really don't think this is asking for much, but apparently it is.  I'm even willing to let go of the whole human thing if I can at least get everything else!  Sheesh.

It's Just A Memento

I'm starting to think I should stay out of the grocery store.  Nothing but rare birds there.  Today I'm coming down an aisle and a gentleman walks past me.  He pretends to get something off the shelf, then doubles back in my direction.  "Can you teach me how to coupon?" was his opening line.  I conducted my Seven Second Analysis and decided I was engaged.  But, being the polite person that I am, I thought I'd at least answer his question.  "It's very easy.  You buy the paper, clip the coupons you want, and use them."  "Oh I see.  I didn't really want to know, I just used that as an excuse to talk to you.  Are you married?"

His subsequent question let me know that my analysis was correct.  "Not yet, but soon.  And from the looks of it, you're quite taken yourself."  Homeboy had a gigantic wedding band on his ring finger.  This shit had layers of platinum and what appeared to be black diamonds wrapped all the way around it.  This woman wanted to world to know he was taken.

"Oh this?  You didn't even ask me about this.  If you had asked me I would have told you; This is just a memento."  Oh word?  A memento of what motherfucker?  That little event you went to a few years back where you promised some random chick you'd stay faithful?  The one where everybody got real dressed up? A memento of that?  Do you go home to this memento every night, or is that just a memento too?  The fuck outta here.

I had a good laugh at his expense and carried on with my shopping.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Someone Worth Reproducing

The other day a good friend of mine asked me "So when are you going to have kids?  You aren't getting any younger you know."  I laughed and calmly replied, "When I find somebody worth reproducing."  "Yeah I know what you mean, it's hard to find someone worth having kids with" she said.  "Oh honey, you misunderstood me.  I didn't say anything about 'with.'  I said when I find somebody worth reproducing, period."

Baffled on the other end of the phone, I explained to my friend that I will have children when I meet a man who is worth bringing to planet earth once more.  He needs to be such a great person that the world could benefit from him being here again.  And if he comes back in the form of a female, at least she'll possess his traits, which the world could use more of.

I think if more women thought this way, we'd have a lower population of idiots.  Instead, women carelessly reproduce children from men whose legacies really should end with them. So the next time you're thinking of "hooking up" with someone all wild and free, ask yourself if this person really needs to be here again.  I bet you'll reconsider.

On Their Way To Fat

Today, millions of children all across the country went back to school.  As a result, tens of thousands of 'back to school' photos were posted on Facebook.  Some of the kiddies were so cute with their little backpacks and big smiles and big dreams.  Others, well...... others looked like they're well on their way to fat.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-fat.  I know it is hard to battle the bulge, especially when most of us do nothing but sit all day.  I'm just sayin', if you're under the age of 10, you shouldn't be fat yet!

These should be the golden years where everything fits and you have tons of energy and you feel happy in your own damn skin.  You shouldn't have body image issues at age 8.  Honey, you can tell by some of the photos that a few of those kids will be porkers come their late teens.  And that truly, is tragic.

I wish them all well though, and I hope they get involved in a good sports program that keeps those pounds at bay.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Sex's Got You Broke

For those of you not native to the southern region of America, this title reads:  Sex Has Got You Broke.  And it has.

One shining example is Mr. Chad Ochocinco, who was recently arrested and released on bond for headbutting his new wife, Evelyn "I'm About That Life" Lozada.  Great.  And why did he headbutt her?  Because they were arguing over a receipt she found for a freshly purchased box of condoms.  Not only was he arrested and is now facing charges, he was dropped from the Miami Dolphins this morning AND had his reality show with Evelyn put on an indefinite hiatus.

I remember a moment during this season of Basketball Wives, when Chad told Evelyn, "I'm only marrying you cause you got good pu$$y.  It ain't cause you're cute."  Evelyn laughed it off and I'm sure dismissed it as Chad being Chad.  But no, he was serious, and he meant every word he said.  And now look at yourself.  Chasing around after some damn sex has got you broke.  If not broke, it has certainly terminated some income streams for you.  I hope that shit was worth it, and I hope you invested the money you did make, well!

Let's explore the issue a little further though.  How else can sex get you broke?  Let's take a trip to the grocery store to find out the answer.  You're standing at checkout along with three little bad ass children, running around the displays, knocking shit over, bobbing and weaving around your cart.  You look at their momma and she doesn't exactly look like she's banking.  On top of that, she looks exhausted.  And for what?  All for some lil' funky ass sex.  Sex got her in the predicament she's in today.  Married or not married, sex is what ultimately has her in this position.  Now she'll be broke x3, perhaps for the rest of her life!  Naturally, the same applies to males who simply must raw-dog it with every woman they meet, and therefore, have 4 kids by 3 different women.  Their pockets will be turned inside out from here till kingdom come.

How else can sex get you broke?  It can get you broke when that happy little marriage of yours gets ruined and dragged through divorce court all because you couldn't keep your peter in your pan.  Now you've got lawyer fees, assets to divide up, rent to pay in two places, so forth and so on.  All because of some lil' dry ass, insufficient sex.  Are we starting to get the picture here?

So we're losing jobs, spreading our money thin, going to divorce court and sometimes jail, all for some sex?  Dayum.  As a society, don't you think this is a little pathetic?  That something that really only lasts about 7 minutes dictates our lives to the point where it affects us financially?  That's just tragic.

Friday, August 3, 2012

London 2012

Ok so I lied.  I've been hopelessly glued to my television since the actual Olympics started.  USA is doing so well overall, and I've seen some of the finest creatures I've ever seen in my entire life!  These thangs look like Greco-Roman gods!  Where is the world have they been hiding?

But naturally, where there is beauty, there are ashes.  I've identified yet another sport where you clearly have issues to want to take part in.  Shot put?  Really?  You literally throw shit for fun.  And you spin around in a circle to do it.  How in the world does one ever discover they have a knack for this?  What kind of anger issues are you working through in order to generate the necessary force to hurl that heavy steel ball?  I'm just sayin, don't you find it to be just a little bit strange?

Strange as it may be, I'm actually enjoying it all.  These people are truly talented, and should be an inspiration for us all to get up off our lazy asses!

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Batteries Not Included

I work with a guy who I'm pretty sure is a robot.  When the pending alien invasion takes place, there is no question that he will be one of the first to shed his human body and carry out the orders of his programmers.

I know this seems far-fetched, but hear me out---Dude is a robot.  Or an alien.  I'm not sure which one, but it definitely isn't human.  There are two main reasons I think this:

1.  I've witnessed him hit his chest with his fist periodically throughout the day.  Not a hard hit, but a good solid thump.  When I asked him why he does this, thinking maybe he'd say indigestion, his reply was, "it's good for the muscle."  Really now?  See, that's an answer only a robot would give.  I think he does it to restart his heart.

2.  Talking to him is like talking to a highly sophisticated Android.  His statements are slightly delayed and unnatural, like there is some sort of processing error.  He often repeats himself as robots do, because there is no new input.  When he does this, I figure he's probably in need of a reboot or system update of some sort..  His movements are also quite jerky, not smooth like a normal human's.  Overall, something is just fucking off.

I know yall don't believe me and that's fine.  You just wait!  It's gonna be on the news and you can say you heard it here, first!

Assholes In The Pool

Sooooo the fact that storm clouds are developing right over your head means nothing to you, huh?  You just figure that you're safe out there in all that water, surrounded by all those underground pipes and metal pool chairs?  The fuck outta here.  Or maybe your bird-brained philosophy is to wait it out until the bolts get reeeeeaaaally close, then you'll get out of the pool.  At any rate, my sympathy level will be at -1 by the time the ambulance arrives to cart your dumb asses off to the hospital.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Name That Bird!

Over the years, my friends and I have come across lots of men who've left comical impressions.  Some we've dated, others were just friends, and others were just people we happened to know.  All have a funny story behind them.  Over time, it becomes difficult keeping up with the real names of all these different birds.  We found it much easier to assign nicknames!  Here for your viewing pleasure, are a sample of some of the nicknames, who all represent real people:

Scruff McGruff
The Guppy aka Nemo
Fine #1
Fine #2
Software Company
Thug Passion
The Roo
Always Strapped
Ninja aka Master Splinter
Tank Head
Thirsty McThurston
Mr. 48
The Planarian
2 Hoops
Big Sexy
Hot Doctor
White Bird
and last but not least,

Dread Wig.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Donkey-Dicked Strut

There is a certain walk a man possesses when he really has his shit together and believes in it.  This walk is called the Donkey-Dicked Strut.

The Donkey-Dicked Strut originated by possessors of said donkey-dicks.  The stride is cool and easy, never hurried.  There's a grace and a rhythm to it.  This person doesn't appear to have a care in the world, and why should they?  They have donkey-dicks! 

Pretty soon, average sized men started to realize that 90% of the reason men with the DDS were more successful than them was all in the attitude these guys possessed.  They learned from their sisters and other female friends that most women don't really want donkey-dicked fools, and that those who have donkey-dicks don't know how to work them half the time.  These men realized that if they could just mimic the walk, success would surely follow.  

And the Donkey-Dicked Strut was born.  There is a guy in my office with a Donkey-Dicked Strut.  He walks around the place like he has not a care in this world.  They could fire him and he'd stroll out of there at the same pace he strolled in.  Totally unfazed.  Rather he has a donkey dick or not, who knows?  All that matters is he comes across like he does!  

Practice makes perfect, so work on your Donkey-Dicked Strut, everyday!

Independent & Resourceful

So I've got this issue going on in my car where the entire back right floorboard has gotten soaked.  Hell if I know how it happened, but I've been through at least 15 towels trying to get the water up.

At any rate, I took the car to the dealership to see if there was anything they could do to help me.  Unfortunately, their service department was closed, but their sex department wasn't.  Out walks this 6'6" man with a 5'4" belly.  "Hello maam, can I help you?"  So I start telling him about the issue I'm having and asking him what I should do to fix it.  We walk over to my car and I open the door so he can reach down and feel the floor.

The door opened, but there was no reaching.  He just stood there and stared at the floor.  "Yeah, looks like you've got a problem."  It didn't look like damn anything.  It looked dry, that's why I needed him to touch it and see how saturated it was.  But he didn't.  So I'm preparing to leave now as he was completely unhelpful when he says to me, "So, are you married?  Single?  What's your situation?  Let me take you out to dinner sometime."  I looked at him, looked at that satchel hanging off the front of him, and said "Suga, I'm unavailable."

Instead of him taking the hint, he continues on, "Well I ain't askin' for much.  I'm just looking for a woman who's independent and resourceful."  Again, I looked at him, looked at that deflated, flap-lopped, saggy belly and said, "Are you those things?"

How dare you ask a woman to be independent when clearly you're not!  You are very dependent on that belly and what it feels like doing that day.  What if you need to take off running?  Do you have that option?  All I can picture is a lifetime of you saying, "Baby, pick that up for me...."  And clearly you're not resourceful, because if you were, you would have done something about that little situation of yours by now.  Who honestly wants to live that way?  And above all, do you think I can picture THAT on top of me?  You ain't bringing nothin' home with that.  Nothing.  But you want a woman who's independent and resourceful?  The fuck outta here.

Abandon Shit

Ya know, people really can be low down and dirty sometimes.  I have noticed a new trend in the women's bathroom that might end up getting somebody cursed out.

You walk in the bathroom and you know someone's in there taking a shit because they never learned how to courtesy flush.  So it's expanding and filling the atmosphere, but you have no time to go to the next bathroom because you have to pee so bad.

So you know what these hateful heifers do?  They wait for you to enter your stall, then they hurry up and flush, wash their hands, and dart out of the bathroom, leaving you looking like the guilty party for that funky shit that's in the air.  Now you have a choice:  hurry up and finish before someone else comes in, or wait it out and execute the Abandon Shit on someone else, even though it's not your shit you're abandoning!  It truly is a vicious cycle.

The next chick who tries to pull this on me is gonna hear "Oh No Ma'am!  No Ma'am, No Ma'am!  Get yo' ass back here and claim this! Own this nasty shit!  You did this!  You're not gonna put this on me!"

Sunday, July 22, 2012

The Look

If you follow the blog, you know I have an overall disdain for interactions with the general public.  It stresses me out.  I really think it has something to do with the fact that there are now too many people on the planet.  It's bound to get stressful.

Anyway, I'm in the grocery store today, and I found myself having to administer 'The Look' twice.  The Look is an effective tool used to communicate your complete and total disgust, with a person.  You must remain still while giving The Look, or else it's just a glance.  Your face must be devoid of emotion.  The Look is purposeful...and powerful.  

First, I gave The Look to this 10 year old girl who was coughing and heaving near the meat department.  You know the kind of cough that throws you into a wretch?  That's what this little heifer was doing.  I stood there and gave her The Look, as I was thoroughly disgusted at this point.  Wanna know what happened?  She covered her mouth!  That Look is something else, let me tell ya.  It shames people on site and causes them to correct their behavior.  

The second administration of The Look came while I was checking out.  This toddler was screaming his head off in the basket in front of me.  His momma just ignored it as I'm sure she has grown accustomed to this noise pollution.  So while she's putting her groceries on the belt, he's wailing, and starts looking all around her, looking for backup and reassurance.  He looked at me, and I gave him The Look which read, "You look so ridiculous right now.  No one is impressed.  Shut it The Fuck up."  Wanna know what happened?  He looked down, put his fingers in his mouth, took a breath, and ceased with the bullshit.  

I suggest developing and practicing a 'Look' of your own.  Trust me, you will need it, especially while driving.  

Friday, July 20, 2012

Throwing The Dick With Confidence

I've been trying to keep up with my online dating lately, and the online dating scene is a pitiful sight to see.  It is filled with grown men who've never grown up, thirsty wannabees, strange, precious, rare birds, the disenfranchised, and outright losers.  I think I hate it so much because everyone is essentially selling themselves, and they're not doing a good job at it.  There's such a pathetic desperation behind each profile, with the exception of a rare few.

Among the lump are a few men who don't look like they can throw the dick worth a damn.  They stand there with their lips poked out and a look on their face that reads "Love me, please?"  I will not love you, because you sir, don't even look like you satisfy yourself.  I need a man who looks and acts like he can throw the dick with some confidence!  A man who stands up straight, not hunched over and all scared lookin.'  A man who allows his whole face to be seen.  A man who cares enough to get that gut in order.  A man who looks like his life is headed in the right general direction.

Now, a few of my readers have accused me of hating men, and I assure you this is not the case.  I love men, I hate what they've become.  This is one sorry ass crop these women turned out about 30 years ago.  They should collectively be ashamed of themselves.  If you are a good man who's reading this, be a light unto your male community, please, for us all.  Inspire some of those shiftless friends of yours to be a little better.  Otherwise, who will your daughters marry?

There's Always A Bitch

This is probably bad timing, but I'm going to write about it anyway.

First, I'd like to apologize to my readers for the absence.  I told you already my job is trying to kill me, I think you think I'm joking.  I see alot of you have been visiting, and I thank you for checking in!

So I'm watching the news here and this man is on trial for attempting to murder his attorney wife.  The reason?  He was living a double life and needed to rid himself of his wife so he could pursue his new life with this bitch.

So, why do I say there's always a bitch?  Because there always is! Watch any episode of Snapped where the man tries or succeeds in killing the woman.  99% of the time it's because he's having an affair and needs to be freed of the ol' ball and chain.  99% of the time.   All I've got to say about that, is that mistress must have some goooooooooood pu$$y!  Any woman who can make a man kill is working with something and should be hosting classes at the local university.  

But aside from that, why do people think they can actually get away with this?  It like....doesn't fit into 2012. We have iPads now for god's sake, why are we still killing people?  Haven't we come a litter  further?  I believe it's a combination of a strong lack of checking in, poor breeding, and people who are just plain crazy.  We gotta pray yall.

Monday, July 2, 2012

The Olympic Trials

So the Olympic Trials are on and, much like the Super Bowl, I'm not particularly glued to my television.  I hear there's some real talent out there this year though, and I just might tune in for the gymnastics.

I did manage to catch a few track and field events, and aside from the javelin which looks like a massive spear of death just waiting to land in somebody's temple, I became intrigued by the sprinters and runners.  These men and women are nothing but muscle and speed.

It made me realize that anyone who can run that fast, who desires to run that fast, and who practices running that fast, regularly, has issues.  Think of the amount of pending energy inside a person like this..  They have got to get that shit out of their system somehow honey, and tonight it might be on your face, or worse.

Would you really want to date a man who can run that fast?  Surely there are some scenarios where this would not be beneficial..... I suppose maybe they date each other because who else would really understand?

Friday, June 29, 2012

Magic Mike

There is a God.  And this god is still hand-crafting specimens for our viewing pleasure.  Tonight I had the pleasure of seeing Magic Mike and let me tell you

I have to get a boyfriend.  There was far too much meat.....far too many flips.....and far too much height for one single girl to handle.  I'm pretty sure I almost passed out a few times.  I think I left that theater pregnant.

What will be interesting is to see how many babies will be born around March 29th of next year....

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Who's Gonna Feed That?

Aside from men who happen to be tall and fine, I used to have a thing for "big" men.  Big in the muscular/athletic sense, and the bigger, the better.  My favorite weight was anywhere between 225 and 250.

Well, after dating a few big guys you begin to realize that it's not all it's cracked up to be.  Big men generate a lot of heat.  Big men tend to bump into things and break stuff on accident. Big men take up a lot of space in the bed.  Big men are heavy.  Big men have big clothes which equals big laundry.  And last but not least, big men have even bigger appetites.  Son, who in the hell is gonna feed you?

Can you imagine what your average grocery bill would look like?  And you expect me to produce three or more meals for you, every day? You're out of your mind.  You've got to be doing some real impressing for me to run a small cafeteria out of my house.

P.S. I ran into Mr. Tall and Fine the other day, and I am happy to report, he hasn't gotten any shorter!

Saturday, June 9, 2012


Yup.  You are.  So am I.  And so is everyone who is not doing what they really want to be doing to earn money and make a living.

Think about it, how does a prostitute spend her days?  She spends her days trolling the streets, looking for Johns to turn tricks with.  For money.  Now do you really think that's what she wants to be doing all day?  Hell no! She'd probably be thankful to get the job you're complaining about.  But that's not the point.  The point is, she's applying her efforts and her energy towards something she'd really rather not be doing. For money.  And so are you.

My goal in life is to stop turning tricks for these large corporations and become the Pimp in my own life.  However, as it stands right now, I'm the one being pimped.  I'm told when to show up and when I can leave.  I'm told when I can eat and for how long.  I'm told how to act, and if I act out, I get the pimp-hand-strong.  I'm told how much money out of my paycheck I get to keep.  I have to beg for days off.  If I go missing, my pimp will come looking for me.  And if I really piss my pimp off, he'll make sure no other pimps in the area will take me under their wing.

So you see, it is vital that I make the transition from being a prostitute who does it for money, to that more of a whore, who does it for fun!

Psycho By Design

Greetings dear readers and birdies!  My apologies for the extended absence.  I do believe my job is trying to kill me, and only recently have I been able to dig my way out from under all of the work and get back to you all!  We've got a lot of catching up to do, so strap in.

Like I said, I do believe my job is trying to kill me, but I'm not gonna let them.  The workload has increased to levels that are essentially unmanageable--for one person anyway.  What's worse is that my caretaker aka boss is particularly tightly wound these days.  If I didn't know better, I'd think he was on some of the best speed money can buy.

As I watch him zip-lining around the office, I can't help but feel sorry for him, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't born this way; he was created.  He was created out of the general insanity that is Corporate America.  It's hard to manage that many humans and that much data.  Pretty soon it all becomes a massive dragon, chasing its own tail, scorching itself in the process.

My biggest hope for myself and all of you, is to one day enter a career where I have control over what my hands, heart, and mind are doing, all day long.  When you don't, and if you aren't right now, you, me, and everyone else are essentially...

Friday, May 11, 2012


Chevy has been running a lot of commercials for the Volt lately, a gas/electric hybrid that gets 42 miles or more to the gallon.  I usually resist the urge to cave into advertising, but with gas being as high as it is, I had to learn a little bit more.

I stumbled across a YouTube video of an ordinary guy reviewing his new Volt.  He showed us the interior of the car and how its dash is setup, he showed us the trunk space, and even showed us how the car charges.  While it was all very cool and the car itself is very cute, damn all that, can this shit take a hit??  

Really, this is the only relevant question anyone should be asking when it comes to buying a car.  Fuck the brand name or the paint job or the fuel efficiency, Can This Shit Take A Hit?  Some very expensive cars are actually very expensive death traps.  One hit and it's gonna fold up like a candy wrapper.  And let's not even get on the subject of smart cars...  A strong wind looks like it could take one of those away.

Look your dealer square in the eye and ask him this question next time you go car shopping.  Matter of fact, ask them to produce photographs of the same make and model, recently wrecked.  See how they held up.  With all of the non-driving that's happening out there on the road today, you're gonna want this to be your top priority.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

You Don't Grow Out Of Crazy

I have a friend who is really going through it with a coworker of hers.  The woman is basically a ranting, raving lunatic who is functional enough to hold a steady job and manage day to day life.

My friend is puzzled at this woman's behavior because of her age.  "She's 49 years old for god's sake! When is she ever gonna grow up?"  It was then that I had to clue my friend in on one of life's many lessons and said, "Sweetheart, you don't grow out of crazy."

And you don't.  If anything, you grow into it.  As a people get older, they gain more freedom to be just as crazy as they want to be.  Who's gonna stop you from being crazy in the privacy of your own home?  Exactly.

So, if you find yourself in a situation with a person whom you suspect to be crazy, and it doesn't seem to be improving, please know that it's not going to, and you might as well get out while you can!

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Sympathy Level

In life, we all make mistakes.  Nobody is perfect, and we all fall from grace from time to time.  For this reason, I tend not to judge too harshly, for we are all human.

That being said, there are times when I may not be judging you, but my sympathy level for you drops and hovers right around zero.  Recently, a woman was "mauled" by cheetahs at a South African reserve.  I say "mauled" because she is alive and well, and did not suffer any life-threatening injuries.  Really, they just chewed on her a bit.

Initially, my sympathy level was at 10, because I thought it was some sort of freak accident.  However, upon getting more details about the story, my sympathy level dropped to about a 2.  Apparently, the people told her these were "tame" cheetahs, and that it would be perfectly fine to pet them, kneel down by them, and rub their heads.  So she did.  And look what happened.

Bitch, are you out of your mind?  Those people could have told me they were deaf, dumb, and blind cheetahs and I still wouldn't have gotten my ass in there with them.  What part of that picture looks safe to you?  And since we're on the subject of pictures, her husband stood there and took pictures of the whole incident instead of jumping in there and saving his wife!  What, did he think it was cute?  Was he happy his wife was about to be offed by some cheetahs?  Whatever the reason, my sympathy level is now at 0.

So you see folks, when you make remarkably dumb decisions, or when you keep making the same dumb decisions, over and over again, it makes it very hard for people to feel sorry for you.  Just sayin.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Musical Porn

Much of today's music has officially made the transition from being "freaky" or "sexual" to just plain nasty.  Disgusting.  Perverted, even.

Have you stopped to listen to the lyrics of some of these songs lately?  It's like listening to musical porn.  Some of the things these "artists" are saying don't really serve any meaningful purpose to the song.  Nope, it's only there to illustrate just how deep the perversion goes.  I'm all about creativity, and if you've just gotta be nasty, can you at least do so in a creative fashion?

Now, if you're an avid reader of the blog, you know that I am no prude by any stretch of the imagination.  But there are songs that come on that make me frown up and change the station.  They also make me want to spit.  I seriously can't believe some of these people have record deals.  What's even sadder, is that some of these "artists" were actually on top of their game at one point in time, and have sunk to incredibly new lows.  

If I were the producer on some of these tracks, I'd have to ask my "artist" if they were feeling okay.  I certainly wouldn't want them around my daughters.  Don't you feel like a perv when recording, editing, and mastering this?  You should!  Furthermore,

If I hear one more song devoted to how you're going to "beat the pu**y up, I think I just might scream.  Or cry.  With all due respect, child boo, what else can you do?  You're probably the same one who's going to serve up 7 minutes of pitiful sex, if that.  Please spare me and everyone else involved.

{Sigh}  Someone wake me up when they start making real music again.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Papoose Boards

Tonight I watched a story on Inside Edition that exposed a dentist for the use of Papoose Boards.  These boards are basically full-body child restraint systems that prevent them from flailing all about when the dentist is, I dunno, trying to drill your teeth?  Anyway, the parents, who all signed waivers, were outraged because their children are now traumatized from the experience.

You've really got to see one in action to fully appreciate this tool.  They may never admit it, but I know there are some parents out there who watched that story and thought to themselves, "Where can I get one of those?"

Some children are so damn bad they need to be papoosed.  It is the ultimate timeout.  It is non-violent, it prevents the child from harming themselves and others, and it prevents the destruction of property.  It could be used in classrooms worldwide to control unruly students.  If they won't sit still or keep their hands to themselves, papoose them and lean them up against the wall.  They can wriggle all they want to, but still they shall be.  And when you are completely restrained like that, all you can think of are your life's choices, and how they led you to this point.

I'm just saying, we could be on the leading edge of a non-violent discipline movement.  Check out the video and judge for yourself:  Papoose Boards

Friday, April 27, 2012

They Don't Care About You

I honestly cannot wait to become a mother.  In due time of course, but I'm really looking forward to the process.  Especially the part when they begin to comprehend and retain what I am saying to them.

I am going to teach them all kinds of life lessons, including a very important one about being a pedestrian.  The lesson is:  Sweetheart, these people don't care about you.  And even if they do care about you, they don't see you.  

Half of the people on the road really do not give a fuck about you.  This is a true statement.  Their sentiment is, "Get your ass out of the road and you won't get hit."  The other half actually do value your life more than you do, but THEY DO NOT SEE YOU.  Either your clothes are too dark or they're texting or you're in their blind spot, or they just passed out, or whatever.  At any rate, you as the pedestrian have the greatest duty to protect your life, so take those earbuds out of your ears and be on the lookout for stupid.

Milk Bags

For the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would purposely attach unnecessarily sized breasts to the front of their body.  These things are heavy, they make your back hurt, and they make you look fatter than you actually are.

Celebrities with these F and G installments would like to have us believe that they are happy with their decisions.  With all due respect, Bitch please.  You can't even roll over onto your stomach, how could you possibly be happy?

My mother affectionately refers to these ridiculously sized breasts as "milk bags."  The term is fitting to say the least, and women who do this to themselves on purpose are somewhere in my top 20 list of dumbest people on the planet.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Sperm Whales

Did you know that some whales can hold their breath for an hour or sometimes longer, underwater?  It's pretty amazing.  You could be sailing along for miles and not know that a whale is swimming right alongside you.

In the dating world, I call men like these Sperm Whales.  Just when you think they've drifted off, never to be seen or heard from again, Boom! They resurface!

It's incredible because they can go for such extended periods of time without contact that YOU think you're in the clear.  But at some point, that whale has got to come up for air, honey, and you end up with a missed call from a mysterious area code...

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

"Beating The Pu**y Up" As A Form Of Domestic Assault

Quite a few of you should be pressing charges when you get up off of your backs.

The reason is because a lot of your men are using your va-jay-jays as personal punching bags.  They can't punch you, so they punch your pu**y!  And they know this is a completely legitimate form of aggression!

Think about it.  If we really sat down and had a heart to heart, you'd be forced to admit that there were times you wondered if that fool was dealing with a full deck.  That there were times he was doing way too much, and that your moans had turned into murmurs--of pain.  But you lied to yourself and told yourself  "he's just passionate" or "he's so turned on he can't help it" or "he's such a great lover!"  No honey, he's violent, and he just let it out on your crotch.

Many women find this behavior cute!  "Oooh he beat it up, girl," or "Yeah, he tore it up!"  You sound silly, and there's nothing cute about having your uterus knocked out of alignment.  Get your life together, and stop allowing your lady parts to be abused!

Sunday, April 15, 2012


The world is at a real deficit for people who know how to listen well.  I have found that my closest friends, and the men who I become most attracted to, are the ones who are good listeners.

Nothing is more self-centered than a person who won't let you get a word in edgewise, or who will listen to you speak, then completely change the subject on their next breath.  Usually that breath involves them in some way.  They then take the conversation and run down the street with it.

I love good conversation, as I've mentioned before.  Nothing is more satisfying than a mutual exchange of ideas. More often though, it's someone whose off-switch is not working, or whose thought process is revolving entirely around themselves.  Or they pretend to listen, then respond with a simple-ass 'uh-huh.'  Gee thanks.

If this blog accomplishes nothing else, I hope it will accomplish the goal of restoring some decency and courtesy to our modern world.

Free Time To Scam

I recently learned of all the different things certain groups of criminals will do in an effort to scam the auto industry in general.  They will "clone" cars, arrange accidents, and hit their own cars with hammers to make it look like hail damage.

As I sat and listened to how elaborate each scam is, I thought to myself, "Who has the free time for this?"  Good God, have you any idea the amount of effort and energy it takes to clone a car?  You could have earned a reasonable and legal wage when it's all said and done.

Further, don't you have other things to do?  Don't you have to grocery shop and do laundry, and I dunno, sleep?    This goes for other scammers as well, like the people who create Ponzi schemes.  With the amount of time you spend creating a "business,"  developing websites, paying for and passing out flyers, holding bogus meetings, etc., you could have created a legitimate business that makes legitimate money.  I just don't get it.

When I look at my schedule honey, I wouldn't be able to scam even if I wanted to.  I'd come home, get my scammin' goin, and probably fall asleep on the couch.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Oh, Soprano

Ya know, just because you're a soprano doesn't mean you have to be a soprano, all the time.  As talented as some sopranos are, and for as much respect as I will give them, a group of sopranos usually sounds like 10 cats being killed at the same time.

Every song doesn't require all of that, suga.  At this point, you're screeching.  Bring it down some.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Why Men Settle Down

I've answered long-standing questions for you all before, and I'm getting ready to answer another one for you!  Many people wonder what causes a man to finally settle down.  Is it age?  Career success?  The "right" woman?  Fate?

Sorry to disappoint, but none of those are the reasons.  The reason a man finally settles down is because he eventually comes to the realization that he cannot reasonably run-it to every fine woman that he sees.

You see, when men are young, they are of the false belief that fine women are in short supply.  For this reason, he tries to sample as many of them as he can, because this might be the last fine one that ever crosses his path.

But then, a funny thing happens around the 2nd quarter of a man's life when he finds himself surrounded by a slew of gorgeous women and he has the epiphany, "I cannot reasonably offer penis to each and every single one of these women."  It is then that he chooses a suitable mate and settles down.

Now don't get it twisted, he'll look forever, but eventually that back will be too tired to throw in all kinds of different directions, and he'll come right on home and fall asleep on the couch.


I am of the opinion that speeders are better drivers.  Naturally, I am very aware of the many accidents that have been caused by speeding, and the many tickets that have been issued, but usually there was some other factor involved.  Factors like, speeding and looking down.  Speeding and talking to your neighbor.  Speeding and texting.  Speeding and drinking.  These combos rarely work out well.

I'm talking about speeders who are of sober mind and body.  Speeders who are actively watching, planning, and predicting what these dumb-asses are about to do.  People who speed generally can anticipate what another person is about to do better than people who don't speed.  Why is this?

It's because when you're speeding, you know you're going fast as hell, and you have to pay even more attention than that asshole who's going approximately the speed limit.  Have you ever seen what happens when people see cops?  Suddenly, traffic that was moving so smoothly, comes to a screeching halt, and a lot of complicated and awkward driving ensues.  Probably a lot of rear-ending as well.

Furthermore, when people are driving slowly or going the speed limit, they tend to be more distracted because they aren't moving that fast.  They're more inclined to fool with the ipod or text or eat or, generally, not pay-the-fuck-attention.  When you're moving at a high rate of speed, you are a little more motivated to pay-the-fuck-attention.

I know some of you won't like this, and you resent those who go flying past you.  My advice is, use them!  They are your rabbits my friend.  If the speed limit is 45 and they're clearly doing 80, the cop is not going to notice you doing 50.  He's gonna go after the rabbit while you sail on by.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Slim, Young, & Little

If I see one more artist debut themselves with the words 'Slim,' 'Young,' or 'Little' (Lil) in their stage names, I think I will scream.  How remarkably unoriginal you are.  There have got to be at least 50 of each out on the market right now.

I'd like to add a few.  If you are an aspiring artist, feel free to utilize any of the names I list below:

Slim Douchebag
Young Idiot
Lil' Leech
Slim Suspect
Young Troll
Lil' Loser
Slim Chance
Young Dummy
Lil' Dickhead...

Please, add to the fun by commenting below with your own spins!

Snatching Kids

Taking other people's kids is a behavior that I will never fully wrap my mind around.  Why in sam hell would I want to kidnap someone else's wretched little monster?  That would require me feeding it, clothing it, entertaining it, educating it, and listening to it cry.  The precious, precious freedom I enjoy now would be no more.  Who goes out of their way to make sure their life is encumbered?  Is it really that serious?  I'll just wait until it's my turn, thank you.

Turn Signals

At this point in time, aren't there some very pertinent turn signals that are missing from our motor vehicles?  Things like a 'U-Turn Signal.'  Don't people need to know you're planning on popping a U-ey? I can't tell you how many near-misses I've seen due to the lack of a U-Turn signal.

While we're at it, they need to develop a 'Straight-Across Signal.' Sometimes I don't want to go right or left..sometimes I want to go straight.  Have you ever had the experience of staring at another vehicle wondering what the hell they're about to do?  They're looking at you, you're looking at them...... See, if they had a straight across signal, you'd know what their intentions were.

I should run for President.

Cherry Blossom Tattoos

This following is a public service announcement brought to you by Lucas McKenzie.

Those of you who insist upon getting cherry blossom tattoos......please know that your tattoo looks like some sort of flesh-eating bacteria from afar.

This has been a public service announcement, brought to you by Lucas McKenzie.

Leave From Jail

Frequent readers of the blog know that I used to be a public school teacher.  Words cannot express the JOY I feel at the fact that I now get to use the words "used to" instead of "am."

Teaching was nothing short of a waking nightmare.  I really should devote an entire book to it while the wounds are still fresh.  There is nothing quite like trying to force/convince/bribe/beg/threaten/coax humans to do something that really is to their own benefit.  There is also nothing like being held accountable for circumstances you have no control over.  Finally, there really isn't anything like not being paid what you're worth, with no hope of salary increases in the near future.  

I absolutely refused to give my life and my youth to this profession.  I admire anyone who does, for they truly are modern day martyrs.  

Anyway, today, one of my coworkers asked me if I regret giving up my summers and my spring breaks.  The short answer to his question was Hell-To-The-Fuck-No I Don't Regret That Shit!  It was awful!

Furthermore, our breaks weren't really breaks because we knew we had to go back.  It's almost like getting a leave of absence from jail.  Sure, you get to go home for 3 months, but you've gotta go right back and be locked up for another 9.  How then, is that 3 month reprieve, enjoyable?

I can't speak for the whole country, but where I'm from, teachers are given the dog's end of the stick.  All the power lies with the student.  If Little Johnny doesn't do his homework, guess who's fault that is?  The teacher's! Because clearly she didn't motivate him enough to do his homework.  I actually had a principal say this to me once.  I'm sorry, but isn't it the PARENT'S job to motivate their child after school hours??  Or here's a thought, hows about the child motivating himself! Gasp!  It took everything in me not to ask said principal, "Would you like me to wipe his ass for him too?"  

With that said, walking away was probably one of the best decisions I ever made in my life.  The sad part is, I was a damn good teacher.  I don't have kids yet, but when I do, homeschooling is looking like a fine option.  

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Kindergarten For Grown-Ups

You see folks, when you refuse to do what you're supposed to do in Kindergarten for Kids, you end up getting to go play in Kindergarten for Grown-Ups, also known as jail.

This wonderful new phrase was coined by a prisoner on a show called First Week In.  It documents the first week of jail for newly minted convicts.  To me, it is like a reality-TV style sequel to Beyond Scared Straight.  Maybe more like a 'Whatever Happened To..."

At any rate, he was complaining about being told when to go to sleep, when to wake up, when you can eat, when you can't eat, when you can go to the bathroom, when you can come out of your room, etc.  He then stated that is was like being in "Kindergarten for Grown-Ups."

After I finished laughing, I thought about how ironic it was that in you abusing your adult privileges, and showing your adult ass to the fullest extent of the law, you end up in a place where you are treated like a child to the fullest extent of the law.  Crazy turn of events right?

So yeah, keep your nose clean, because if you end up in Adult Kindergarten, you may not like your playmates :-/

Gettin' Ugly

As much as I talk about creatures that happen to be tall and fine, today I decided that I am going to seek out and marry an ugly man.

The reason is because I simply could not trust a fine man to walk around unattended, day in and day out.  Fine is fine, and you're fooling yourself if you think that nobody else sees that.  They see it.  And they want it.

Some women are ruthless and shameless in their pursuit of men, married or otherwise.  Why should I have to contend with that?  True enough, it's his responsibility to maintain the faithfulness of his dick, but c'mon...Some women might as well be sirens.

With that said, I'm going to look for a man that is remarkably unattractive to date and marry.  Perhaps our looks will balance out and produce a fairly decent looking kid.  Most important though, is that 9 out of 10 women would reject him.  Kirstie Alley recently announced the same thing, and I think she might be on to something!

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Wild Rabbits

Personally, I am all for the free birth control initiative.  I went to my local mall today, and left with the conclusion that the earth's population has reached and surpassed anything that is reasonable or necessary.

There are far, far too many human beings on this planet.  This is evident from the drive home in rush hour traffic or from the lines you have to stand in at your local Wal-Mart, and anywhere else for that matter.  And we keep making more.  

We need to get our numbers under control, because eventually, all these little people are going to grow up needing schools and jobs and shelter and FOOD.  And because the breeding efforts have gone awry in general, who exactly are we going to lean on to supply all these needs?  This generation can barely spell.

This is why I tell all of my friends and family to stay healthy- this current crop is not going to be turning out a whole lot of doctors and nurses.  And because there will be so many of them, I am already putting together plans for my cupcake factory, where I can put to work all the little dumb-bunnies who didn't pay attention in school.  All you gotta do is put the gumdrop on the top of the cupcake and send it on down the line.  Easy as pie.

If you were smart, you too would start making advanced plans about how you will capitalize on the abundance of low-skilled humans the world will be overrun with in the very near future.

Saturday, March 10, 2012


I'm just sayin, I think we'd all be a little bit more humble if we had to go to work naked one day out of the week.

Think about it:  What kind of drama could you possibly have that day?  What more is there to say?  I mean, here I am and there you are and well.....there you have it.

What could be a better team-building than that?

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Where The Boys Are

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make!  I have the answer to the long-standing question and subsequent mystery, "Where are all the good men?

You ready?

Ladies and Gentlemen, they are:  At Home.  

That's it!  No more, no less.  They're not at the grocery store or the coffee shop or the gym or the library or a lounge or a sports bar or any of those other places people tell single women to go in search of a mate.  No my friends, they are at home.  

They're home just like all the decent, single, eligible women are.  The most eligible women I know rarely get out and about, mostly because they are gainfully employed and engaged in other life-enriching activities.  The same goes for eligible men- they work, they have hobbies, and more than anything else, they have a routine.  That routine usually ends with him taking his happy ass home.  

This is the reason that many of the prime candidates in the dating pool remain single- they don't get out much.  So, instead of joining that dating website or wasting precious time and resources going out night after night, go to your nearest apartment complex and start knocking on some doors.