Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Host Body

Ladies, this post is coming from the heart, and I want you to take it very seriously.

There are men in this world who NEVER intend on getting married or settling down.  Allow me to repeat this, there are men in this world, who NEVER intend on getting married or settling down.  They don't intend on it now, 10 years from now, or 50 years from now.

With this in mind, these same men want children, specifically sons, to carry on their little funky-ass legacies.  They are smart enough to recognize that they will never be able to birth their own children.  If they could, you would watch the marriage rate plummet.  Truly, these particular men are looking for women that I call "host bodies."

In the insect world, parasites seek out host bodies to feed off of, and sometimes, lay their disgusting little eggs in.  Unbeknownst to the host body, they are helping this particular parasite carry on their legacy.  Do you think the parasite sticks around once the food is eaten and/or the kids are born?  Hell no!

Same thing goes for the human world.  This type of man seeks out a woman(en) he deems suitable to bear his young.  This is why you often see super-successful men with wimpy little women.  Of course she's not his soul mate, she's his host body, and she doesn't even know it.

This woman(en) probably has good or good enough credentials.  He can't have just anyone raise his little 'god-king.' She has to be appropriate for the job at hand.  Gotta give him credit for his good breeding efforts, but it's done for selfish reasons and with ulterior motives.

These women will carry multitudes of these men's babies, until one day they realize they are being used.  Why do you think so many politicians' marriages end in hell-fire?  It's because he never loved that girl.  He just needed credibility and someone to bear his son.

Moral of the story, ladies, do not allow yourself to be someone's host body!

Yes, You Are

It always kills me when I see signs in public places that read, "Owner/Management Not Responsible For......"  Just today, as I was leaving a gated parking garage, the sign said, "Owner/Management Not Responsible For The Malfunction Of Gate."

Well, yes, you are.  If this gate comes crashing down on my car, you are very, very responsible for it.  So responsible, that I will be waiting for you at your office before you arrive the next morning.

How can you say that you aren't responsible for the gate?  It's your gate, isn't it?  Isn't it your job to keep it in good working order?  Here's a better question: If you aren't responsible, who is?  Surely, you don't think it's me.

The same goes for grocery store parking lots.  "Store not responsible for damage caused by shopping carts."  Again, yes, you are.  How you just gonna denounce your responsibility?  If a cart hits my car, you absolutely ARE responsible for it. It's your job to control these things.  If you are understaffed, hire more people to man the lot.  At any rate, you're paying for this ding.

I think I'm gonna get a t-shirt made that says, "I Am Not Responsible For Anything I Do, Have Done, Or Will Do."  You think that'd keep me out of jail?

1000 Hits!

Hey everybody, we just passed the 1000th hit mark! Again, I thank each and every one of you who enjoy reading the blog.  It's your support that keeps me going! Please tell your friends, and mention the blog on your Facebook page!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Online Dating Tips (For Men)

Many well-intentioned men have trouble securing dates in the online arena.  This post is dedicated to them, and will hopefully shine some light on the blind spots in their dating pursuits.

Often times, guys, it's the little things that turn a woman off.  Please review the list below, and if any of the following behaviors plague your online dating profile, correct them, and watch the women roll in!

1.  She can't see your eyes.  A lot of men like to wear sunglasses in their pictures.  This is fine, as long as you've got some photos posted that show your eyes.  If a woman can't see your eyes, she can't trust you.  Do you trust a person whose eyes you cannot see?  Why are you wearing glasses indoors anyway?  Are your eyes bloodshot?  Are they squinty or too close together?  Are they crossed?  You see the list of questions this behavior generates?  Take those glasses off and let her see your eyes, Suga.

2.  You don't capitalize your own name.  You may not realize it, but this is a sign of your self-confidence, or lack thereof.  If you don't think you're important enough to capitalize your own name, why should she?  It is also a sign of laziness, because you can't be bothered to simply push 'Shift.'  If you are lazy regarding yourself, I'm sure you are lazy in other areas as well.

3.  Poor Language Arts skills.  Although this is the information/technology age, proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation still matter.  If you are a grown man still using broken English, this is a poor reflection of your intelligence and overall character.  Further, a smart woman will want a smart man raising her children.  She has to trust that those bedtime stories will be read correctly, and pass down good language habits to her children.  If I ever hear my husband pronounce 'though' as 'doe' to my kids, the marriage is over.

4.  Women in pictures.  A woman does not have time to determine rather or not that woman in the photo with you is your sister, mother, niece, coworker, best friend, aunt, etc.  If you give the illusion that you are already surrounded with women, a woman will think there's no room for her, and move on to the next profile.  Plus, we can all see that you think you're the cock-of-the-walk, and it's not working.  Please stop.

5.  Inappropriate pictures.  Similar to having women in your photographs, pictures of you with your shirt off or holding guns are probably not going to appeal to the respectable woman.  Your inbox may fill with women of a lesser caliber, but not the type of women you'd want to marry.  It's all about what you're trying to attract.  Furthermore, all I can visualize is you reaching for one of those guns when you get good and pissed off with me, and you probably won't have a shirt on when you do it.

6.  Unflattering pictures.  These are the infamous bathroom pics, or the one-sided, one-angled photo that even you know is not attractive.  You justify these photos by saying things like, "Well if a woman really wants me for me, this picture shouldn't matter."  Well, it does matter.  It is all about breeding, you know, and a woman wants to make sure she gives her children the best chance possible.  The shape of your head and the knock of your knees matter.  Be fair in giving a woman a fair chance in deciding who she wants to mate with.

7.  Telling the woman off.  So many men in their online dating profiles, proceed to tell off each woman who visits the page.  They present a dissertation devoted to who they DON'T want to contact them, and by the end of it, have eliminated every woman on earth.  I'm pretty sure their inboxes sit empty.  There's nothing wrong with knowing what you want, but your current presentation is very off-putting to the average woman.  Hell, it's off-putting to the average person. You sound uptight, rigid, and unforgiving.  Ask yourself, "Would I wanna hang out with me after reading my profile?"

8.  Inappropriate screen name.  Screen names that reflect your loneliness, your private bedroom habits, or your anger at the world, say more about you and your mental state than your profile does.  Women like mature, reasonable men.  If your screen name includes any body part, you are probably not the man for her.  Names like breakherbackin44, kingdingaling69, and pleaselovemexoxoxo are not whistling Dixie.  You might be a great person, but your screen name might as well be a big red 'X' on your forehead.

In closing, while it is important to be yourself, be aware that doing so has consequences that you may not desire.  At best, the women you want will not visit your page.  At worst, you will attract the women you don't want, and quite possibly, create a lifetime of headaches because of it.  The choice is yours.  What kind of woman do you want in your life?

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Driver Alert Systems

Recently, I heard about the many new technological improvements scientists and engineers are rolling out to, basically, prevent stupid.

Most of them were really cool and I can't wait to see them in use.  One of them tickled me greatly, though, and it is called the 'Driver Alert System.'

In essence, this system monitors how many times you've swerved, even slightly, out of your lane.  It also monitors if you've made some really dumb decisions, like cutting off another car or taking a corner too swiftly.  After one too many fuck-ups, the system illuminates an animated cup of coffee and displays the words "time for a break."

Rotflmao! I love it!  While they have to keep it clean, what this program is basically saying is, "Hey! Jackass! Get Your Non-Driving Ass Off The Road Before You Kill Somebody!"

Isn't is sad that computers have to take over because we can no longer be trusted to do the job.  Pretty soon, cars will be driving themselves since we just can't seem to get it right.


I waited until I was safely back on the ground to post this one.

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I do not like flying.  No amount of statistics comparing the safety of planes versus automobiles will change my mind on this issue.  At least on the ground, I stand a chance.  In the air, I stand zero chance.

Flying is unnerving.  If you don't believe in a higher power prior to setting foot on an airplane, you will once you're up there.  Especially after hitting your first bump that they like to call "turbulence."  Bitch, please do not ascribe a fancy name to a phenomenon that really shouldn't be happening.  We are in the air, why are we hitting bumps?

Further, don't you ever say to me with a smile on your face, "In the unlikely event of an emergency, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device."  How very thoughtful of you.  Hows about we decrease the likelihood of 'unlikely events?'  That would put a smile on my face.  And even though I'm probably not going to remember any of what you're saying if some shit goes down, could you please slow down and speak a little more clearly?  Furthermore,

Can we please engineer a way for these puppies to fall and not break up to all hell?  Perhaps a massive airbag or a bunch of tiny parachutes?  Good grief.

Yall would have laughed at me on this last flight.  They had to "de-ice" the wings prior to takeoff.  Lucky for me, I had been debriefed on this subject before the trip.  Had I not, you may have read the following headline in your local newspaper: TSA Escorts Woman Off Of Plane For Refusing To Fly.  

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Sneezing In Public Places

This shit has got to stop, people.

Nothing is more disgusting to me than people who cough and sneeze in public places.  My disgust increases exponentially when these public places happen to be restaurants.

Again, I am not an unreasonable person.  I know that we as human beings, must sneeze from time to time.  We all get sick.

All I'm saying is that when your sick ass feels a sneeze coming on, you do your best to either suppress it or completely cover it.  In the past few days, I have seen a variety of shameless individuals, who don't even bother to cover their mouths.  That shit is fucking disgusting.

No one wants to be exposed to your got damn influenza or your got damn bird flu.  I guess everyone else has to be sick like you, huh?  The fuck outta here.

This has been a public service health announcement, brought to you by Lucas McKenzie ;)


There was a point in time when I was very passionate about politics.  I would allow myself to get all riled up and uptight about the goings-ons in the world.

Not anymore.

If you haven't figured it out already, both world and national politics are farkakte, and we are all essentially fucked.  

We are fucked because the world leaders are basically a bunch of adult-sized teenagers, hell-bent on having their own way.  Cooperation and negotiation might as well be four-letter-words.  Not only are our leaders immature, they are also insane.  This is not a winning combination.  Much like the religious freaks who bitch about what kind of exercise you participate in and what kind of clothes you wear, our political leaders don't even deserve a bird classification.  If we all had good sense, we would fire every last one of them and bring in some fresh blood.  And just to be clear, I want everyone from EVERY party fired.  They have all lost their minds.

I admire the people who have participated and continue to participate in movements like 'Occupy Wall Street.'  While other people call them "radical" and "hippies," I call them change-makers.  All change that has taken place in this world was brought about by people like them.  Go team, go, and don't let anyone deter you.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Some people in this world are so remarkably uptight, they are going to shorten their lifespan.  I am truly thankful for my sense of humor.

They worry themselves about everything from other people's lifestyles to what other people choose to do for exercise.  Notice that the majority of their worries center around other people.  Those who aren't focused on controlling the lives of others control the hell out of themselves in the form of refusing to laugh at funny jokes, over-analyzing and misinterpreting scriptures, and allowing themselves to be very easily offended.  They attempt to lead rigid little lives and rarely have any fun.

These same people are usually the ones you find killing, or caught up in elaborate sex scandals many years down the line.

For you own sake, baby doll, lighten-the-fuck-up.  Life is meant to be enjoyed.  Have a laugh or two.  Have a beer or two.  Do some Yoga.  I promise it's not a one-way ticket to hell.

Energy To Sit

I found myself daydreaming today, and as I looked around the room, I noticed the abundance of coffees, red bulls, full throttles, and 5 hour energy drinks.  I also noticed that every single person drinking them was in the process of sitting.  And they remained in that process for roughly 8 hours, barring a few breaks here and there.

Isn't it sad that as a country, we have reached a place where we have to boost ourselves up to sit down.  You would think the opposite would be true; that sitting should be an easy task that doesn't require much energy.  Unfortunately, all or most of us have been funneled into jobs that require the use of our minds and not our bodies.  I say unfortunately because, our minds are almost always never being put to good use.  We are usually repeating the same meaningless tasks, over and over again unto infinity.  

I think it's amazing that our minds simply won't have it, and refuse to adapt to our new lifestyles.  They show us that they aren't having it by shutting down on us day after day, and forcing us to crack-out on energy enhancers, no matter how many hours of sleep we've gotten.  

Monday, January 16, 2012

Dread Wig

Let's round out the night with one of my friends' favorite stories- Dread Wig.

The following story is true, with only a few details and name changes to protect the innocent and the endangered.  Rare birds are endangered, after all.

One day, my friends and I had gone out for a night of partying.  We were having a great time when we ran into this group of guys, also having a great time.  The ringleader of said group was a short little man who we'll call 'Stumpy.'  Stumpy had to be about 5 feet even.  I was taller than him, and that ain't sayin' much, honey.

Anyway, Stumpy and I hit it off and we became great friends.  We keep in touch still to this day.  One day, Stumpy invited me over for a few beers and some barbecue.  I went over, and we were joking, laughing, and having a great overall time.

At one point, I began to examine Stumpy's dreads.  I said to him, "My goodness, those are the prettiest dreadlocks I've ever seen.  I mean, they're jet black, even, and perfect!  How do you get them that way?"

Stumpy looked down at his feet, chuckled to himself a bit, took a deep breath, and proceeded to slide the dread wig off of his head, baseball cap and all.

Now what the fuck part of the game is this, man.

After I recovered from my overall shock, the interrogation began.  Naturally, the first question was, "Why?"  He told me that his baby's mother had a lot of friends, and that he wanted to be able to go out and enjoy himself in peace.

Bitch, you're 5 feet even.  You think they don't recognize you??  They see you bitch.  And they're laughing at you.

Nevertheless, and like I said, we're still friends to this day.  How could you not be friends with a rare bird such as this?  And for the record, he doesn't wear the wig anymore.  I think once he "came out" to me, he realized how ridiculous it was, and he stopped.  See, checking in works!


As unladylike as it is, whenever I smell something horrid, I absolutely refuse to swallow whatever is in my mouth, and I will spit.  This is because I know that the taste buds and the scent glands are intricately connected, which is the reason why you can taste your food.  It is also the reason that you cannot taste your food when you have a cold.

In my mind, if I am smelling something rancid, I am also tasting something rancid, and that just won't do.  I have to spit.  I have gone as long as 20 minutes until I could find a proper place to dispose of the contents of my mouth.  Judge me all you want, I have limited shame about this.

This is very similar to my behavior of breathing through my mouth when the scent overrides my faculties.  There are times when certain odors are so foul, so pungent, that I would rather let them enter my mouth than breathe them in.  Seems counter-intuitive, I know, but at least when I'm breathing through my mouth, I'm not aware of the stank-i-ness that surrounds me.

I bet you'll think twice!

The Courtesy Flush

It's time to address a serious issue that I'm sure occurs in public and semi-public bathrooms everywhere across America.  It is the issue of The Courtesy Flush, or lack thereof.

For those who don't know what this is, the courtesy flush is something you are supposed to do after your first set of little swimmers hit the water.  It saves everyone the time and disgust of having to breathe in the smell of your shit.  

Why anyone would want to sit an marinate in the smell of their own feces is beyond me.  Truly, what you do in the privacy of your own home is YOUR BUSINESS, but I am begging you, on behalf of your friends, family, and coworkers, do not make it our business.

I understand that there are times when you just can't hold it.  We are human, so I am not unreasonable in this aspect.  All I'm asking is that you reach back behind you, and flush.  Immediately.  I don't care if you have to flush 13 times- do it.  When you don't, you create within me the strong desire to....

Thank You!

Just wanted to say Thank You to all the rare little birdies who have been reading the blog.  Over 500 hits in less than a week is unheard of for a new blog.  Please keep reading, and please tell your friends!  I promise to keep 'em coming!

Gifted To Teach

I came to the conclusion a long time ago that every body is not gifted to teach.  This is something that truly comes from within, and you either have the gift, or you don't.

One of my biggest aggravations comes from people who do not possess the gift.  They get up there and try, bless their hearts, but to put it as nicely as I can, they suck.

Now for those of you who don't know, I used to be a teacher, and a damn good one at that.  My mother was also a teacher, so this is probably where the gifting comes from.  That being said, I feel like I can comment fairly on the non-teaching assholes our planet is plagued with.  Just like how it's easy to identify stupid, it's fairly easy to point out a particularly bad teacher:

1.  Stand The Fuck Up.  Why are you sitting down?  The only time I will excuse this is when you have an ailment or an injury, or a condition like pregnancy.  Other than that, you need to be on your feet.  When you sit and teach, my brain sits and learns.  You don't seem enthusiastic.  You don't seem into it.  I need you to be into it, otherwise, why should I be into it?

2.  Wake The Fuck Up.  Similar to when you're sitting down, I can tell when you have low energy.  I understand you're exhausted, believe me, but your students don't need to understand that too.  When you're exhausted, I'm exhausted, and it makes this boring-ass material even harder to learn.  Chug some coffee or an energy drink and come back to life, please.

3.  Shut The Fuck Up.  Unless the story you're about to tell is a good one, please don't tell it.  No one cares about your personal life unless it is relevant, or just that good of a story.  Other than that, honey, please hush.

4.  Recognize When You Are Losing Your Audience.  You see us going to sleep, please stop trying to act like you don't.  And what do you do when you see us slipping?  You keep right on with the same program that put us to sleep in the first place.  Why not add some variety?  You really don't have to help make the subject matter boring.

In closing, regardless of how awful a teacher is, I still have the utmost respect for them.  I know how hard it is to get up and put on a show everyday.  But for the love of everything holy, when you know that you are not operating within your calling, please go sit down somewhere.  On second thought, stand up!

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Buying My Babies

You see kids, life is all about proper planning and strategizing.  While we can't always predict or control what it will bring us, we can make a concerted effort to have a plan in place for every foreseeable situation.

As I approach 30, I am coming to terms with the fact that I may never marry or find the life mate that I desire.  It is what it is, and if I can have Oprah's money in lieu of a man, I'll be just fine.

I do, however, want to be a mother.  I think I would make a great mom, and I absolutely need the opportunity to mold somebody from birth.  Can you imagine the child that gets to be exposed to my philosophies and life mantras from the very beginning?  Phenoms I tell you!

Anyway, since I may not have that devoted husband by my side, I have already come up with an alternate solution:  I'm going to buy my babies.  That's right.  But I'm not gonna go about this all willy-nilly, oh no.  My intention is to travel to the city with the highest graduation rates, and the highest number of college degrees per square mile, and pick up my sperm there.  The way I see it, the people donating in cities like these stand a higher chance of being smart than cities where the graduation rate is low and there aren't many people who possess higher education.  I am looking for a higher pedigree of bum.  Call me what you want, but I guarantee my children will turn out more civilized than those functioning monkeys that treat Walmart as their personal playground.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Smile, Sweetie

The world of online dating intrigues me.  Aside from the fact that it's filled with precious, rare birds, it gives you the unique opportunity to see how people choose to present themselves to the world.

One form of presentation that really tickles me are the men who don't smile in their pictures.  They really expect a woman to write and/or respond to them with that sad little look on their faces.

What's wrong, Suga?  Somebody run over your puppy?  Life got ya down?  Why in the world would I wanna hang out with you when you look like any minute now, you're going to end it all?

And again, these will be the same men saying that "Women don't know what they want," or "Yall don't know a good man when you see one."  Well, yes I do, and he is usually smiling when I see him.  Further, I can't picture your non-smiling ass on top of me, as you will probably be depressed in the bedroom as well.


Words cannot adequately express or describe just how much I hate Walmart.  It is a clusterfuck of humanity and useless products.  Aisles are congested with people who won't move the fuck out of the way, and their children.  

I have almost accidentally taken off the heads of several kids who were running by me at top speed.  Why won't you control those little monsters?  You feel like everyone has to share in the same misery that you experience everyday at home?  That was your choice!  Had you been more selective during the breeding process, you probably would have produced calmer, more normal-acting children.

And then there's the store itself.  As massive as it is, you can almost never find anyone to help you.  And when you do, they've got attitudes out of this world, or they aren't knowledgeable about where things are or what the products do.  And speaking of the products,

What the fuck is all of this shit?  Walmart carries more useless garbage than the law should allow.  I never cease to be amazed at the resources that are wasted mass-producing bullshit.  There really shouldn't be global hunger or homelessness, because we spend millions of dollars making sure things like 'silly bandz' are available to the general public.  Why don't we redirect some of these resources towards creating jobs and getting people off of the street?

Finally, I believe Walmart is where rare birds come to meet and mate.  All the proof I need of this can be seen in the video that was produced by "Mr. Ghetto."  Honestly, the company should make rules regarding who is allowed to come in the store.  While they're at it, they need to make rules regarding how many people can be in that motherfucker at one time.  Surely, this is a fire hazard.

This is the main reason I go late at night, when only a few birds are around, and all the lovely little children are sleeping.  If I ever reach the level of success that I intend to, I will pay Walmart to close and lock the doors so I can shop in peace.

Friday, January 13, 2012

We Don't Need You Natural

Some people require mental and/or emotional medication to maintain a normal lifestyle.  Despite what you may think, I actually support this.

I support this for two reasons:  1.  You have recognized and accepted the fact that you're a rare bird, and you need some help.  This is O. K.  If more people would just own up to it, there'd be no need to check in as much.

The second reason I support this is because, Sweetheart, we don't need you natural.  When you're natural, you do stupid shit like steal cars or rob banks.  When you're natural, you start obeying those little voices in your head.  When you're natural, you keep telling me the same stories, over and over again.

I have absolutely no problem with you consuming as much medication as you need to feel normal.  Some rare birds were born this way, so they can't help it.  I am just proud that you are taking the steps you need to get better, and to help make the world a safer, saner place.

Put Your Shirt Back On, Suga

The following epidemic is highly related the phenomenon of the dick pic.  It is the problem of men with their shirts off in their internet profile pictures.

Now, as young ladies, we were brought up to maintain a degree of modesty.    We were taught not to reveal too much, and to leave something to mystery.  This is good advice.

This advice also applies to your shirtless ass.  Baby, I don't want to see that.  I actually really enjoy imagining what a guy looks like up under his shirt, especially that tall, fine one.  I like looking at the way a man's shirt falls across his shoulders, and if I can picture him on top of me, I enjoy pretending taking said shirt off.

However, when you're standing in the mirror, sucking your stomach in, trying to flex, and trying to pretend that you don't have man-titties,  I am beyond appalled.

This also applies to men who have nice bodies.  When you post shirtless pics of yourself, you have literally taken all of my fun away.  I have nothing to look forward to but that damn dick, and as you all may know by now, I don't find them beautiful.  Useful, yes.  Beautiful, no.  Women have lots of stuff for yall to look at.  We only get chest and dick to daydream about.  Mother Nature really shortchanged us in this department.

With that said, leave a little to the imagination fellas.  You'll probably find yourself attracting a higher pedigree of woman.

Beyond Scared Straight

One of my favorite TV shows of all time is Beyond Scared Straight.  It is all about these little bad ass teenagers being taken to jail for a day, and essentially, getting the shit scared out of them.  The inmates get in their faces, yell at them, take their shoes, make them do push-ups, and sometimes even make them cry.  It is AWESOME.

I have just one problem with this TV show, and that is that they won't leave their little asses there overnight.  Let 'em see what the business really is.  Bunk them up with a dude who's serving 20 to life.  When it's time for lights out, put their ass in a cell, close the door, and walk away.  Make their parents sign waivers so they can't sue the jail.

Now this, this will scare their little punk asses straighter than that fake ass, restricted yelling the inmates do currently.  I still don't understand why the inmates hold back anyway.  Dude, you've got life.  What else can they do to you?

Even though the kids crack and breakdown during the show, on some core level they know that these prisoners can't do anything to them for real.  They know that there's only so far they can go with them.  You need to let the inmates take it as far as they want to.  I promise you, they'll never bring their little asses back to prison again.  Bitch, after just one overnight visit, those little monsters will be saying "Yes maam," "No maam," "Yes sir," "No sir," "Please" and "Thank You."  The smart ones, however, will simply offer themselves to the inmates, and avoid the thrashing their peers are getting in the next cell over.

Abundance Of The Heart (It's Just Skin)

There is a verse in the Bible that states, "For Out of the Abundance of the Heart, The Mouth Speaketh."

Yeaaaah, yall didn't think I read the Bible, did you?  I do!

Anyway, to me, this passage means that what we allow to come out of our mouths is nothing more than an overflow of what is going on in our hearts and minds.  The mouth acts as a filter.

This should scare the piss out of everyone.  Think about the things people have allowed themselves to say to you.  If this is what they're allowing to come out, what on earth are they not allowing to come out?

A perfect example would be the time that a gentleman and I were discussing sex.  He went into lewd detail about the things that he's into, to which I replied, "That's gross."  Wanna know what his reply was to me?  He told me, "It's just skin."


It's just skin, huh?  See, now I'm starting to wonder about you.  I'm starting to wonder what happy trail you followed to arrive at that conclusion.  And again, if this is what made the cut and was allowed to pass through that beak of yours, I really do wonder what else is going on inside of your head.  Needless to say, I distanced myself from this character, because you clearly have no limits.

The Checkout

Ever since I've started this blog, it seems that the rare little birdies are coming out of their nests in droves.

Today, I was in Kohl's picking up a few things for my trip to Iceland.  I was a few people behind in line when one of the associates walked up and told me she could take me on a different register.  I knew she was a rare bird immediately by the expression in her eyes.

So we get to the register, and it isn't working for one reason or another, so we moved to different one.  I didn't like the way she moved my stuff, either.  She handled it with no care; just grabbed it up the same way you grab up dirty laundry.  I didn't appreciate that.

Then, we get to the next register, and that one isn't working either!  Now, I'm getting pissed.  I was already pressed for time, and I would have done better just staying in my original line.  Those whores were already out the door, and I coulda been too.

Anyway, I take a breath as this bird leads me to the final register, which is actually working.  She begins to ring me up when she became intrigued by the purse I was buying.  In a Ms. Cleo kind of accent she says to me  "Oooh, we sell dis' here?"  I wanted to say, "No, asshole.  You don't sell this here.  I went and got it from T.J. Maxx and brought it allllll the way over to Kohl's to have it rung up.  Of course you sell it the fuck here.  Whatchu mean?!"  But, much like how I didn't flip out on the seat jacker, I refrained, and didn't flip out on her either.

Then, she became distracted by my hair.  "Oooh, your hair is so pretty.  Who do it fah you?"  "Thank you, I do it myself" I replied.  "Oooh, I have to come to you now den ha ha ha."

Ha ha hell.  I wouldn't do hair for your strange ass if you were paying me $1000 per service.

Finally, her rare ass became enchanted by different people as they were walking by.  You could see them eyes just-a roaming.  She was barely ringing my purchases up.  It was at this point that I had had enough.  "Bitch, if you don't focus the fuck on what you're doing and get me the hell out of this damn store.  I am now 15 minutes behind schedule because of your happy, dumb ass.  Please give me my receipt and let me go!"

I didn't say that to her for real yall.  But I sure was thinking it.

Killing Yourself In The Gym

Today, we learned all about how the different joints and ligaments in the body wear down over time.  We were discussing the various activities/lifestyles that cause these parts to wear down faster than your average bear.

What troubled me most about this discussion, is the fact that 98% of the activities mentioned were athletic in nature.  They included swimming, running, hiking, weight lifting, jogging, so forth and so on.

And then it hit me.

Yall are killing yourselves in the gym.  Here they are, telling us that we need to get active and that we need to move more, but in all actuality, we don't!  Yeah okay, keep right on doing all those push-ups.  You're gonna grind that rotator cuff to smithereens.  Keep right on jogging your 16 miles a day.  Them knees ain't gonna be worth shit in 10 years.

You see my friends, the body just wasn't designed to do all that.  There is a reason you don't like going to the gym- it's because your body knows better.  It can only do so much.  Hell, each heart only has a certain number of beats assigned to it, why you wanna waste 'em on a treadmill?  I say we all just learn to eat healthier and leave that damn gym alone.  


It's cold as tick balls here today, man.  For the first time since 1988, I saw snow.  Not snow exactly, but flurries.  I would have been more excited to see the snow if I hadn't been freezing my ass off.

Cold air is a strange thing.  Cold air will make you walk fast.  Cold air will make your skeleton scream.  Cold air will make you question life.  Cold air will also make you cuss somebody out over something extremely petty.  I really do wonder how our ancestors made it.

On a similar note, I'm getting ready to take my ass to some cold air for two solid weeks.  I am none too pleased about this, and if I could back out of it, I would.  But it's for work, so I have to go.  And guess what decided to arrive this week?  A freakin arctic cold front.  Outstanding.

I promise you one thing, if I look out that window and all I see is white, I'm not getting off the plane.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

What Else Can You Do? (The Female Edition)

I hope you didn't think my wrath is reserved for men only.  Women can get it too, and they're about to.

A friend of mine directed me to a video called 'Walmart,' made by a delightful individual named "Mr. Ghetto." The video basically consists of a bunch of young women, shaking their asses and 'twerking' in the middle of Walmart.  My, how far we've come.  

While I'm sure the fellas are huge fans of this, it left me with the same question I have for men who lead with their dicks:  Sweetheart, what else can you do?

These girls were bent over so far that I could see their uteri.  As that mess wobbled back and forth all I could focus on was how dirty it looked up under each cheek.  I imagine it doesn't smell too nice, either.  The way they were dancing, I know they're going to have lower back problems in the future.   

Now these same girls will be the ones screaming and hollering about how men don't respect them or treat them right or want to make them wives.  Well shit, what else do you expect?  Right now you are showing them your greatest talent, and if that's the best you have to offer, I feel sad for you and all those kids you're going to push out in the future.  

Happy and Dumb

More and more each day, I consider deleting my facebook account.  The following sentence is an unedited, unchanged, verbatim post, written by an acquaintance of mine who is about to be de-friended:

Old habits are hard to brake sumtimes but I’m goin 2 brake this one no matter how hard it maybe

Again, I did not add, take away from, or edit this post in any way.  So I'm reading this, and I look at your profile picture, and you just a-smilin’.  Just happy.  Happy to be damn dumb. 

So, old habits are hard to brake huh?  Maybe you shouldn’t drive them so fast, and they wouldn’t be so hard to brake. 

I’m not even gonna touch on ‘sumtimes.’ It’s almost as bad as when people say they’re about to ‘cum’ over.  Please stop it.

No matter how hard it maybe….  Maybe what Suga?  Maybe you’re dumb as fuck and should have paid a little more attention in English class? 

I promise yall the page is coming down.  I feel like I get dumber every time I read some shit like this.  I just wanna reach through the screen and bam their heads against the keyboard.  The world really does not need any more people like you, as you are probably the result of poor breeding.  

All Uptight Thinking About Racist Shit

I can't.

Today I was checking my facebook account, and some religious freak posted a YouTube video entitled:  Yoga is a Gateway to Hinduism, Satanic Worship, and the Occult.

Seriously............I almost don't have the energy to write this one.  These people are the bane of our fucking existence.  They seem to search for new ways to be insane, new ways to hate another group of people, and new ways to pretend that something perfectly innocent, is wrong and sinful.  See Women In Pants for another example of this tom-foolery.

So you're trying to tell me that a form of EXERCISE that promotes peace, tranquility, muscular strength and balance, is of the devil?  Well damn.   Is Zumba ok?  Can I Zumba, or did Satan's little sister make that up?  I imagine Dance Trance is out, too.

What kills me is that the same people who declare that Yoga is of the devil and that women shouldn't wear pants, are the same ones sending damn dick pics to college students and wearing their wives' panties when she isn't home.  I can't stand these freaks.  You don't even get a bird classification anymore.  You don't deserve it.  I gotta come up with a new category for you lunatics.

I'm beside myself tonight yall.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

What Else Can You Do?

Nothing makes me laugh quite as hard as when a man comes up to me and says, "Baby, I can put it on you.  I can give you what you need.  I got that good dick."  

Please, spare me.

In the past, once I finished laughing in their faces, I realized I didn't have a witty comeback other than 'Get the fuck outta here.'  Then, the following phrase and life philosophy was born:

"Sweetheart, with all due respect, I've had good dick, and I've had bad dick.  Therefore, I've had every kind of dick there is in between by default.  I already know what you're working with.  That being said, what else can you do?"

This simple phrase and subsequent question usually leaves them speechless and they walk away. Perfect.  But seriously, what else can you do?  Can you change my flat tire and put oil in my car?  Do you know the difference between a phillips-head and a flat-head screwdriver?  Can you slice a whole watermelon?  Can you fix my computer?  How about install a shower rod, can you do that?  Can you put together a functionally and grammatically correct sentence? Can you mow a lawn without streaks?  I'm just sayin, what else can you offer me other than that lotus flower you call a dick?

Too many men lean on their sexual prowess to impress women, and to say the least honey, I am a little less than impressed.

Spark and Spunk

Nicki Minaj has a song out called 'Your Love.'  It's one of my favorite songs for many reasons.  The chorus has a line in it that says, "You got spark, you you got spunk, you got somethin' all the girls want."

I'm not sure if Nicki realized what she was writing, but a truer statement hasn't been written recently.  Can I pleaaaase get a man that possesses both spark and spunk?

I've dated men who were all spark, and no spunk.  In other words, you're an effing dork who has no edge whatsoever, and you're probably supremely uptight.  You wear your pants up under your ribs and you tuck your shirt in.  I make a joke, and not only do you not get it, you launch into the theory of relativity and basically do all you can to disprove my joke and flaunt your intelligence.  The fuck outta here.

Then, I've dated guys who are all spunk, and no spark, honey.  In other words, you're a meathead.  You're on box-of-rocks status.  Now, you've got swagger and you dress well and you're fun to be around, but as soon as I drop a word like 'anomaly' on you, you're lookin' at me like my whole face just turned green.  This is not going to work either.

I really need a man who has a healthy balance of spark and spunk to be happy.  I know they exist, and I just hope one is on reserve for me.

It's All In The Eyes

I have developed a fool-proof way of determining rather or not someone is smart.  It's super-easy.  Just watch their eyes.  The smarter a person is, the more their eyes will move around in general.  This is an indication of thinking.

Birds who have clearly been touched by an angel, however, will have eyes that don't move much.  They rarely even blink.  This is because there isn't a whole lot of cognition going on.  Mall's open, nobody's shopping.  Light's on, nobody's home.  Sun's up, nobody's outside.  You get my drift.

Try it.  You'll be amazed at the accuracy.

Picturing You On Top Of Me

I'm really going to do my best to explain this without losing yall.  This post is directed mainly towards the good guys who can't seem to get the women they want.

A man can have a whole lot of things going for himself.  He can have a good job, a functional automobile, a home or apartment, good credit, no criminal background, reasonable height, so forth and so on.

These men put in sincere effort to pursue decent women they think would make good wives.  These men experience distress, however, when these same women turn them down.  They think they've done everything right.  You will usually hear these men saying things like "You women don't want a good man." or "Yall want a man to dog you out." or "Nice guys finish last."  I'm here to break the sad news to you that none of the aforementioned statements are true.  The simple truth, fellas, is that she simply cannot picture you on top of her.

For whatever reason, she can't picture you pumping and thrusting her, now or ever.  She can't picture your facial expressions.  She can't picture your grunts and groans.  It probably turns her stomach a little bit.

Now, some people will argue with me that sex isn't or shouldn't be the most important thing, but if we're two single people who are hitting it off and really seem to be compatible, like it or not, eventually it will lead to sex, and everyone knows that good sex is extremely important in a relationship.

If the thought of you on top of her makes her flesh crawl and makes her uterus want to retract into her lower intestines, it's never going to happen for you.  I'm sorry, but this is just reality.  Those 'bad boys' you see her with gave her great mental imagery, and that's why she's with him.

Look at you, you learned something today!  And just to be clear, she can't picture you behind her, either.

Men With Donkey Booties

Nothing is more troubling, or more disturbing, than men with donkey booties.  It's something that I can't quite wrap my mind around.

I don't get it.  Why would Mother Nature do you like that?  That wasn't very nice.  I know they can't help it anymore than they can help their height, but come on man.  That thing is......massive.  It's.......rotund.  It's......just wrong.  I mean, your butt is bigger than mine!  That's a huge problem.

A man with a donkey booty doesn't stand a chance with me, because I just can't picture him on top of me, and this is vital if I'm going to be pursuing any kind of serious relationship with a guy.

3 in 1

Strange people are everywhere, man.  You must always be on the lookout and ready to deal with them as they come.  On just one short trip to Publix, I encountered 3 different types of birds:

1.  The Psychotically Competitive Bird.  I was on my way to the customer service counter to return some soap.  This lady, also on her way to the counter, proceeds to quicken her step and literally foot-race me to the counter. Bitch, it's the Publix Customer Service Counter.  It is not a tri-athlon.  There is no prize waiting for you on the other side.  Confetti is not going to fall from the ceiling.  This broad then has the nerve to turn around and ask me, "Are you returning something?"  I replied "Yes, but you go ahead Suga."  If you're not sure what 'Suga' really means, see Mumblers.

2.  The Slow-Walking Bird.  Some people walk like they drive- slow as fuck.  And not only are you slow, but you're swerving, so no one can pass you.  Are you really that oblivious?  Are you really that rude?  How do you get anything done in a day?  Now if I were to step on the back of that dirty little flip-flop, you'll be mad.  Move the hell out of the way!

3.  The Stare-Walker.  Two people approaching each other on foot is awkward enough.  If you don't know the person, and even when you do, it's a weird exchange because you don't know where to look.  Most people will look down or look to the side or pretend to play in their phones. Not the Stare-Walker.  They keep their eyes locked on you the whole entire time, until you feel the need to act.  What I usually do is look away until I'm right up on them, look up, and give a good ol' Southern "How ya doin."  What makes them so weird is that they do not reply!!!  WTF is wrong with you?  You're staring at me you effing weirdo! I'm the one trying to make us both more comfortable.  I think from now on when this happens, I'm gonna do my same waiting technique, and right when I get up on them, I'm gonna go 'Boo!'

China Is Poised For Takeover

Yes.  China IS poised for takeover.  And why is this?  It's because the majority of our citizens are dumb-as-fuck.  You can tell the majority of our citizens are dumb as fuck by the screening exams you have to take when applying for a job.  As you sit there answering the questions, you think to yourself, "Surely, nobody is this stupid."  Oh, but they are.

Believe it or not, even with the abundance of available, unemployed people, there is not an abundance of available, unemployed smart people.  And for the record, a college degree does not automatically make one smart.  It just means you followed directions well enough to be awarded this shoddy little piece of paper.  This expensive, shoddy little piece of paper.  Smart comes from within.  Education perfects it.

I used to teach, so trust me, I know what's out there.  Hell, even McDonald's is having a hard time staffing people, cause you're so dumb you might undercook the patties and kill somebody.

We need to watch this and take it very seriously, because while we're all over here passing kids through and letting them drop out en masse, China is busy cracking the whip on their kids and a-massing their armies.  Personally, I'm gonna brush up on my Mandarin, and when they finally show up, I'm going to offer myself to them.

Poor Breeding

Now, I've proposed the following theory to Monica many times, and I think only recently is she finally starting to believe me.

We have a high population of strange, rare little birds on this earth because of the high frequency of poor breeding amongst humans.  People back in the day used to care about quality.  They used to hand-pick their children's mates, and they would base it off of various characteristics such as wealth & stability, family history, HEIGHT, strength, and numerous other factors.  Some people even went so far as to keep it in the family to ensure quality control.

Nowadays, we breed with just anyone.  We'll allow just any old sperm to fertilize just any old egg, and what do we get when that happens?  That's right kids! Rare damn birds.  You don't see championship, prize-winning dogs mating with mutts, do you?  They won't even cross-breed with other championship dogs unless they're purposely trying to create a new breed.  They are concerned about Pedigree.  When did we stop caring about pedigree?  We need to start concerning ourselves about pedigree again because....

People Who Tell Me Things More Than Once

I must be in a pissy mood today, because all I can think about are people who annoy me.  I would like to introduce you to another type of rare bird, and they are people who tell me things more than once.

Now, I'm not talking in terms of reminders, or you simply forgot that you already told me something.  I'm talking about people, who look me in my eyes with all sincerity and tell me a story that they've already told me before.  This behavior occurs over the phone as well.  I mean, they will literally go from beginning to end, as if it's my first time hearing it.  And they're completely serious.  And they're not good stories, either.  They're crappy stories.

What qualifies these people as rare birds is the fact that that mechanism in your brain that tells most normal people, "Hey! Jackass! You've told them this already!" is either off or malfunctioning.  It also gives me a clue to just how insane and/or self-absorbed you really are.  Ironically, these people are also the ones who tend to talk my ear off and make me wanna kill myself.  It's almost like they have a record stuck on replay in their heads, and they'll hash and rehash the same stories over and over again to anyone crazy enough to listen.  I guess this is what happens when you check in with someone with an unchecked mind.

What Stupid Looks Like

If you follow the blog long enough, you will discover that some of my biggest pet peeves deal with people and their driving skills (or lack thereof).  Nothing enrages me faster than these damn bobble-heads who are attempting to navigate the road.

One of my favorite things to do when I finally have the opportunity to get out from behind a slow driver is look over and see just exactly what stupid looks like.  I need to know these things for future reference so I can catalog it in my mind and avoid people like them.  Funny enough, and after years of research, I have discovered that they all share one or more of the following characteristics:

1. old
2.  mouth open
3. both hands on the steering wheel
4. sunk way down low in the seat
5. lost
6. scared
7. simple
8. talking on that damn cell phone

Is talking on the phone and driving at the same time really that hard?  I do it all the time, and I don't depress my brake pedal to make it happen.  I just, ya know, pick up the phone and keep going.  I guess these fuckers can't walk and chew gum at the same time, either.

Seat Jackers

I arrived to my seminar this morning and discovered another person sitting in my seat.  Now, this room is large, and there's plenty of available seating.  He could have sat anywhere, but no!  He chose to park his hips in my seat.

This pissed me off because, Bitch, you know I sit there and have been sitting there every single day since this tired ass lil' seminar began.  You've been plotting on my seat, haven't you??  I should have slammed my laptop bag up against the back of his head, but I refrained.  I do have some element of self-control.  

I got over it and sat somewhere else, but it behooves him not to be in my seat again come tomorrow.  

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Tall And Fine

I work with a guy who is tall and fine for no reason.  Every time he walks in the building, I get pissed off.  I'm pissed primarily because you are both tall and fine.  You could have chosen just tall or just fine, but noooo.  You had to be both, with your greedy ass.  So now, instead of focusing on my work, I'm focused on your tall, fine ass, and the various things I would allow you to do to me.

I honestly don't think it's fair.

Bitch, You'd Better Make Straight A's!

I don't have kids of my own yet, but when I do, I know one thing- Bitch, you'd better make straight A's.

I was talking with a friend tonight who's recently given birth, and she described the sheer horror of the overall experience.  Her baby's head tore her vaginal canal, and she had to be stitched from the inside out (44 stitches to be exact).  She pushed so hard that she got a hemorrhoid. She developed vericose veins on her calf muscles, and stretch marks around her torso that look like something out of the movie Beastly.

Let me tell you something, you little fucker, if I'm going to go through all of this to get you here, oh, you'd better make straight A's.  I mean STRAIGHT A's.  No B's.  No C's.  Certainly no F's.  Did I give you an F delivery?  I could have.  I could have pushed once and given up, but noooooo.  I pushed until I ripped myself.  You better push until you rip yourself too.

The Dick Pic

Recently, the question was posed to me, "When is it ever okay to send a dick pic?"

The short answer to this question is- Never.  I don't know many women who actually appreciate this form of artistry.  Personally, I hate dick pics.  They do absolutely nothing for me.  They look like fleshy little mushrooms, arced towards the sun.  It's gross.

Further, it always leaves me with the question, "Is that all there is?"  Not in terms of size, because truly, no one wants a donkey-dicked n*gg* (more to come on this topic later).  I mean in terms of, what else do you have to offer?  Because right now, all you have to offer is a dick and a smile, and honestly honey, I'm good.

Also, you give me an advance opportunity to turn that funky little mess down, and you don't want that now, do you?

So the moral of this story is, put ya dick away son.  Nobody wants to see that.


Ah jail.  Now personally, I don't think jail would be so  bad.  I'd get a break from all the bills, wouldn't have to go to work everyday, and have plenty of time to work on my writing.  Plus, I'm ever so slightly insane, so I could thoroughly entertain myself daily within the confines of my own mind.

I couldn't do jail, however, because it is dirty and germ infested, and because lesbianism isn't for me.  See Why I Could Never Be A Lesbian for further explanation.

If, however, you find yourself in the unfortunate circumstance of ending up in jail, I have a fail safe solution:  Offer yourself to them.  That's right, I said it, offer yourself to them.  Go and find the biggest, baddest butch on the yard, and introduce yourself.  Tell them your name and where you're from, and let them know you're available.  Doesn't that sound better than getting your ass whopped and having it taken from you?  You know you're not gonna win, so why not surrender?  Just go get the honeybuns and the cigarettes and take it like a man or a woman.  Might sound degrading at first, but at least you'll know you gave it away versus having it taken.

The Line

I personally believe that everybody has within them the capacity to seriously hurt or kill another person.  You don't think you do, but oh trust me, you do.

It's because everyone has a little something I call "The Line" that lives inside them.  The Line is the place where sanity ends, and insanity begins.  It's kind of like passing the 'No Rest Stop For 100 Miles' sign on the highway.

Now, some people live closer to their line than others.  Monica would say that I straddle mine.  The point of this post is to stay as far away from people who take you to your line as possible.  I don't care if this is a friend, family member, coworker, or associate.  Distance yourself.

You're gonna wanna do this, because if you don't, you'll end up in a little place called.....

Women In Pants

So, some religious freak the other day was ranting and raving and getting all uptight about women wearing pants.  They basically said it was a sin.

I never get angry with these kinds of people, for they too are rare birds.  More often, I'm intrigued by their lunacy, and always like to know how/why they have come to these conclusions.  So I Googled it.

What I found was absolutely fascinating.  This guy basically said that women shouldn't wear pants because they 'tempt' men, in the form of drawing the eye to the crotch area.  When women wear skirts and dresses, the eye is drawn to the face.

At first this made sense to me, but then I got to thinking....Wait the fuck a minute, draw eyes to our crotch, what about their  crotch???  I have seen more balls and dicks bunched up in men's pants than I'd ever care to.  AND they have the nerve to sit with their legs wide open so everyone can see that funky little mess.  If anyone should be in skirts, it's them!!  I imagine it's rather uncomfortable trying to negotiate which ball will go where, and how to keep everything in line down there.  A skirt would solve their problems immediately.

We gotta think people.

Why I Could Never Be A Lesbian

With all the hard luck I've had with men, truly, I should be a lesbian by now.  I mean, it's the most logical choice.  I cannot, however, become one.  While there are many reasons why not, one reason prevails above all others:  It's because women talk too much.  And I don't mean gossip, honey.  I mean Words-Per-Minute.

I have friends who run verbal marathons of such proportion that they make me want to kill myself.  I'm talkin hours upon hours of non-stop droning that contains no real substance whatsoever.  Now, I'm all for a good CONVERSATION, but that usually involves a mutual exchange between two people.  These chicks essentially talk to themselves while I'm on the other end of the phone trying to find my gun.

I seem to keep attracting these people too.  I don't know what it is about me that says, "Unload Here," but they do.  I'm pretty sure my tombstone will ultimately read:  "Here Lies Lucas-She Was Talked To Death."

Monday, January 9, 2012


Lately, I have run into a lot of rare little birds that I like to call Mumblers.  It's one of the strangest things I've ever seen.  They'll start off their statements at about a 10, and by the end of it they're at 0.  It's almost like they're afraid I'm going to hear what they have to say.  But......you started the conversation?!

They'll be like, "Hey, Lucas," and I'll be like, "Yeah, what's up?" And they'll be like, "Did I tell you the other day aboutattdatjkdtststatkhjhksfskddfadskhffsqqwart?"

So, in an effort to be nice, I'll say "Repeat that for me, Suga."  Now, Monica knows that anytime I call someone 'Suga' I'm really calling them an asshole.  ''Repeat that for me, Suga'' is really ''Repeat that for me, you mumbling asshole.''  Why won't you open your mouth and speak?  If you don't feel comfortable saying it out loud, text it to me.  I won't be mad.

So my new strategy in dealing with these rarities is just to nod and smile, and insert a few 'uh huhs' in there for effect.  They don't know that I don't understand what they're saying 97% of the time.


Some people don't even deserve themselves.  So I'm sitting in class today when this woman makes a very noisy entrance.  In the hush of the classroom, she's stomping the floor, slamming bags down, plugging shit in, setting shit up.. just annoying.

I put my earplugs in and tried to maintain my focus.  Well, Little Miss Look-At-Me leaves the classroom for about 15 minutes and returns with some gruel.  It really wasn't gruel...some combination of eggs and sausage and bacon bits... I don't know.  Anyway, she starts eating this "food" and a piece of it goes down the wrong pipe.  Now her loud ass starts to cough.  Repeatedly.  A classmate leaned in and asked her if she was alright and she replied, "yes."

Well, the coughing continues.  What mesmerized me, and the overall point of this post, is that she did not reach for her 32 ounce soda or step outside for a sip of water.  Nope.  What did she do?  She kept eating!!!???  Now, let me get this straight.  You're choking to death on a bacon bit that went down the wrong pipe, and your solution is to keep eating?  What part of the game is that?  Is this a new form of heimlich?  I was completely blown away.

Needless to say, she survived, and she finished her gruel down to the last bite.  She is almost as bad as the honey badger who almost died eating a puff adder, and who, upon waking from his near-death coma, continued to feast on said adder.  If you've never seen it, watch it here:  Honey Badger Almost Dies Eating Puff Adder.

The Unchecked Mind

Let's kick start this blog with one of my favorite theories: The Unchecked Mind.  I think one of the biggest problems we have in the world today is the problem of the unchecked mind.  There are far too many people walking around on planet earth, whose minds are not being properly checked on.  What I mean by this is, no one is ever stopping to ask these babies, "How ya doin?"  "Whatcha been thinking about lately?" "Whatcha been thinking about doing?"  "Who ya been thinking about killing?"

TV shows like 'Snapped' prove this to us.  I recently saw an episode where this 19 year old girl's line of reasoning really was:  "Well, if I kill my mom, then I can clean it up and wait for my dad to get home, then I'll kill him too, then I'll go to school tomorrow and I'll kill Carlos."

Hmmm......see, if someone had been checking in with this baby, perhaps they could have redirected her thought process towards something more productive.  Something less murderous.  Luckily (?), she only was successful in killing her mom.

Now I'm not trying to make light of the fact that someone's life has been lost.  I'm trying to bring light to the fact that this little fool was somewhere thinking about this shit, and no one knew.  Probably wrote her off as a "normal kid" who didn't get in trouble, so no one checked in on her, and wham- we've got a body.  You're probably thinking of numerous other examples of people who, if someone had just asked, may not have done what they did.  All it takes sometimes is a little redirection and a look on a friend's face that reads, "What the Fuck!?" to snap someone out of it instead of having them snap on your ass.

So the moral of this very first blog post is: Check in with people.  Doesn't matter who it is, check in.  Ask them how they're doing and what they've been thinking about lately.  You just might save a life.


After 15 years of this abuse, my dear friend has grown tired of being the only one who has to put up with my foolishness.  She has begged me for years for me to start this blog, and well Monica, it's finally here! I hope you get as much enjoyment out of reading it as she has being forced to listen to it for over a decade.

It's best to read this blog from the bottom up, starting with this page, but feel free to fall down the rabbit hole in any order that you'd like.  Use the links (highlighted words and phrases) embedded within the articles to take you to previous discussions of a topic.  Happy Trails!