Sometimes I amaze myself...

My friends are always making fun of words and phrases that I make up and use. Whoda thunk one would come to me in a dream?? Amazing!!!

I won’t go into the entire dream but here is the important part. We were on a field trip for work. Our 60 year old PhD scientist busted one of the guys for getting a blow job while on the trip. He referred to him as the “blow Joe culprit”.

Blow Joe Culprit!! I love it and I’m gonna use that phrase for a long, long time. Who knew I was a genius of nasty vernacular…even in my dreams??? Sometimes I amaze myself.

I'm not sure what the hell is going on in my crazy, sleeping brain this week but I'm enjoying it.

Chick out…

Huh???

Last night I dreamed that I washed my face...with a piece of ham!!! What the hell is wrong with me???

Chick out...oink oink...

The Idiot Dreams of her Future Life

The other day I saw someone driving a Jaguar and it jogged my memory to what I thought my present life would be like when I envisioned it about 20 years ago.

The year was 1990. I was a goofball trying to find my way through college. Originally, I had decided that if I had to go to college I would only get a 2 year degree. I opted for a data processing program at a local community college. I can tell you this much about data processing…it was boring and I hated it and to this day I still have no idea what data processors actually do.

After a year of that nonsense, I went ahead and switched to science because I decided I wanted to be a physical therapist. The same idiot that hated school so badly that she only wanted to go to college for 2 years decided she wanted to go for 7 more. I was a stupid asshole but woowee zowee…I was going to be rolling in the moolah and that’s all that mattered!!!! My dream car was a Jaguar. Oh wait…I can take it one step cheesier…it was going to have vanity plates….”JAGGED”. Dear Jesus! How ridiculous but I thought it was killer awesome!!! Just like big hair, stirrup pants, and Milli Vanilli….KILLER AWESOME!!!

There was one drawback to the whole physical therapist thing. Did you know that physical therapists have to touch people??? Shit!! I never thought of that until I actually spent time observing a physical therapist, which was a requirement for applying to a physical therapy school…thank God!! Massaging and rubbing on strangers. Forget all the schooling!!! I could have been a high class hooker and made a shitload more money. Problem was that I figured my parents wouldn’t approve. Prudes!!

Okay so I didn’t want to rub people for money. What could I do??? Fuck if I knew! I was completely and totally lost.

Here is what I decided to do. I wouldn’t tell anyone that I didn’t want to be a physical therapist, I would go ahead and transfer to a four-year university school, and I would enter a pre-physical therapy program to prepare academically for entering physical therapy school.

Makes sense right??? Made a hell of a lot of sense to me. At that point in my life I was pretty much equivalent to a demented circus monkey.

To be continued….

Chick out…

Summa Time Haiku

My friend Leilani loves the haiku. In honor of her I've penned a few about this wretched, hot-ass weather we've been enduring.

The sun is boiling

The car seat burns my fat ass

My soul screams and melts

**

The sun bites my ass

Mother Nature is a bitch

I kick her ass...POW

**

I drown in sunscreen

Freckles pop out all over

I'm pale as a corpse

**

Yum, watermelon

Get in my big mouth right now

Makes me pee pee lots

**

Custard from Rita's

Sun so hot it melts too fast

Oops drips on my boobs

Chick out...

Mind of a Mad Woman

You think I have an overactive imagination? A recent news story brought to mind a fantasy my friend Talullah once had. I like to say that she has the mind of a mad woman. Saying she's crazy is really just downright rude.

I'm sure you've heard the recent news about Mel Gibson* slapping around his girlfriend...the mother of his 47th child? Okay maybe he doens't have 47 children but he's got a shitload of spawn. I can only hope none of them turn out like him.

My how the mighty have fallen. It's hard to believe that the anti-semetic, abusive, whack job ever made the panties of so many females quiver. He did though. I don't know a single woman that didn't melt for him about a decade ago.

Talullah was crazy about him. I once asked if she could have anyone sing at her birthday and her answer was Mel Gibson. I just looked at her with a scowl and she said, "Well you didn't say it had to be a singer." *sigh* She had a point.

Back to her fantasy. She once fantasized that she was driving along and was pulled over. Who should walk up to her car? None other than Officer Mel Gibson!!

What do you think she did? I'm gonna give you three guesses...

Does your first guess Talullah unbuttoning her shirt and showing Officer Gibson her cleavage??? Well, you're wrong! As Talullah so elegantly put it one time...she's got nothing to cleave.

Does your second guess involve Talullah performing sexual acts on Officer Gibson???? Well, you're wrong!! I'm not sure why but that was not the first thing to come to her mind.

Does your third guess involve Talullah pulling a gun on Officer Gibson??? Ding! Ding! Ding!

We asked her what she did at that point and her answer was "nothing, that's it." What the fuck! She fantasizes about being pulled over by Mel Gibson and the big climax is her pulling a gun on him?? Mind of a man woman!! Mind of a mad woman!!!

I'm not sure which is more weird--her fantasy or the fact that she told her friends who would never forget and who would bring it up over and over again for years and probably include it in her eulogy when she finally passes over to whatever awaits her in the afterlife.

Knowing what we know now I guess maybe Talullah was a prophet. She knew a long time ago that the pig deserved to have a cap popped in his ass even if she secretly wanted to bite his ass instead.

Chick out...

*Note: The attached picture of Mel Gibson is from when he was still hot. He now looks like he's been bitched slapped by a jackhammer. I just couldn't bear to use a recent picture even if he is bat shit crazy.

28 Truths of Everyday Life...take 2

Continuing my series on 28 Truths of Everyday Life…today I’ll tackle:

10. Bad decisions make really good stories.

This entire blog is a testament to that truth. In fact, it's the way I live my damned life. I’ll share a little different kind of story with you this time…

My friend Willow has a chronic and severe case of foot-in-mouth disease. She’s not a mean person but she just has a way of saying the exact wrong thing to the exact wrong person at the exact wrong moment. She’s really more of a victim of bad timing.

She has a knack of asking how you like your new car right after you’ve totaled it or how your job is going right after you’ve been fired or how your marriage is doing right after you’ve found out your husband is cheating on you or…well you get the picture.

Case in point…

Willow loves most anything to do with Christmas. This includes an almost fanatical love Christmas music. She knows all the songs…religious, secular, good, bad, and ugly.

One year at her job they were talking about different Christmas-related songs. She pipes up and says something about how she really doesn’t want to hear the song “Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas”. (See I told you she knows them all. She doesn’t like them all but she knows them all.)

She said everyone got really quiet. I’ve always envisioned that everyone’s mouth was agape and their eyes got as big as saucers as they stared at her in horror while she slapped her thigh and threw back her head letting loose a horse laugh that rattled the walls. You see…she was the only one laughing.

Bad decision…good story.

Someone pulled her aside and ask if she knew that one of the girls standing there had an alcoholic father. Of course she didn’t but with her track record she should have….what are the chances that Willow is going to start belting Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas at any time, much less when the daughter of an alcoholic is standing right in front of her.

This would never happen to a normal person but for poor foot-in-her-mouth Willow plagued by bad timing? She could be standing in Brazil, make a crack about Coca Cola, and somehow offend a long lost relative of Thomas Fucking Jefferson. Really…it would happen to her!!!!

Chick out…

The art of vacuuming

Last week my mother informed me that in order to vacuum adequately you must make 3 passes with the vacuum cleaner. Whattttttt theeeeee hellllllll??????? She's always been a clean freak but now I'm decided that she's out of her fucking mind.

I work at my job 9+ hours so I can take off every other Monday. On top of that I commute 40+ miles each way through hellish traffic. So...I'm doing really well to run the bastard of a vacuum cleaner even once over any of my floors in a given week. In fact, if I'm able to complete that feat I feel like a damned olympic champion! Hell, I march around feeling all high and mighty whenever I don't have clumps of dog hair clinging to the baseboards or covering my coffee table.

Three passes with a vacuum? She's certifiably crazy.

At this very moment I can shove my hand down in between any of my couch cushions and come up with a handful of stuffing from a stuffed animal. Why? Because I unhook my cushions and vacuum underneath them about twice a year. Whenever I do it, the dogs come running and try to grab the stuffing and run off with it before the vacuum can suck it up. I feel that it's best to just leave it hidden!!

Guess how often my mother vacuums her couch.....every week...and she never even sits on it!!!!

It takes her hours to vacuum her house. I'm not going to tell you how long it takes me to do the deed but let's just say it can be measured in minutes. Of course, "Alice" vacuums my entire basement so that saves me some time.

For those of you that have never met "Alice"...she's a Roomba and I love her dearly. It takes that little robotic bitch about an hour to vacuum down there so I guess she follows my mother's rule of thumb.

I try not to watch her because she makes me feel like an inadequate housekeeper. She spins and whirls around like a maid on crack. She doesn't get hung up on rugs, never knocks things over, and gets up all the crap on the floor which is better than I do.

And guess what...I've noticed that she makes 3 passes. Bitch!!!

Chick out...