If it's a party, I'm there!

Except for political ones.  I'm a registered Independent and I think in the state of Missouri, that means I can't participate in primary elections.

But it doesn't matter because since I've been old enough to vote, I've only had choices between shitty and shittier.  Cynical but true.  Unless Gary Johnson runs in 2016, and then I am totez voting for him unless he picks a real fuckhead for veep.

Not yet have I known an individual in elected office who truly represented ME or wasn't ate up with fraud and stupid.

For the most part, I lean left.  I think a healthy society takes care of its members.  I want to be a member of a functioning, mostly peaceful, prospering group of people.  Don't you?

But...

There are some ways in which I'm 'on the right' and forever will be.  And I know it pisses off some of you but let me explain.

I saw this meme today.  What it says exactly isn't important but it shared some stats on 'unjustified homicides' and compared them to voter fraud.


I will say that recent headlines and general kerfuffle over 'voter fraud' (according to my own research, mind you, but if you're reading this, then you've got internet access same as me...) is a myth and there have not been, in my own searching, any significant events of voter fraud in decades.  Like... decades.  I'm no scientist but I can read.

However, there was a word in the meme that bothered me a bit.  "Unjustified homicides."  If it is indeed justified, it is self-defense, not homicide.  Just sayin'.  There's no such thing as 'justified homicide.'  Murder is murder and how do you define murder?  Killing someone who is not threatening your own life and/or killing someone with premeditated intent.  I think the latin term is mens rea.  Look it up if you don't know it.  You've got the extra three minutes if you're reading the crap I write.

And yes, I openly support the Second Amendment but I do agree there should be a screening process prior to ownership, however I don't know how I'd create an effective one.  But the impossibility of preventing every homicide is the problem.  Not the amendment itself.
(Thanks, law enforcement dad...  LoLz)

Most importantly I more than strongly encourage RESPONSIBLE ownership and feel that irresponsible acts, if caught and convicted, should be cause to remove one's 'right' to own a firearm.

Education in general needs to be required for the ability to own and operate certain, potentially dangerous things in addition to continued demonstration of safe use.  Removal from the legal public market will NOT eliminate guns.  (Need proof?  See history.  Google 'prohibition' and let me know how that worked out for liquor.)

Will a stricter screening process, pre-owership education and continuing education "prevent" all tragic deaths related to shooting?  No way.  Not even if everyone were perfect.  Humans will /always/ make mistakes.  Again, see history.  Google 'perfect human.'  Let me know how many examples you find.  Don't bother bringing up Jesus.  I'm talking about science, not religion.

And, in conclusion, may I please remind you that it does NOT say R.S.V.P on the Statue of Liberty!

Shit. It happens.

Funny, sad and true.

Conservatives throw mud at "bleeding-heart" Liberals but when it comes to the plight of the unborn (insert dramatic face), Conservatives wrote the book on hearts that bleed.


Grab hold of your party-line politics and take a little walk with me down a very likely what-if lane.


Even when someone is responsible, established and does everything right, accidents can still happen.

Here's a slice of real life:

Imagine a 36-year-old married woman with a 50-year-old husband, both have full-time jobs and also two part-time sources of income which are heavily taxed since it’s considered self-employment.

Let's say the husband has an 18-year-old son from a previous marriage.  He pays over $500 a month in child support and his son lives with them approximately 50% of the time.  They're fortunate to have a smart kid who starts college at a top local university in the fall.

Even with multiple sources of income and financially conservative living, they barely make ends meet.  The husband had cancer nine years ago and they had no health insurance during the duration of his treatment.  They're in debt from medical bills and now about to pay for books and tuition in addition to paying the $500+ child support for another four years.  (In many cases, non-deadbeat fathers pay for the sins of the losers and are ordered to give money to the mothers until the child is 22 or 'emancipated' meaning not attending school.)

The shitty part of this story is where people must share their intimate details with lawmakers in order to make a point.  The married couple always uses birth control.  But birth control is NOT infallible.  It can and does fail, that’s why the manufacturers must disclose such on the packaging.


Now don't tell me you expect this struggling but happily-married couple to abstain.  Come on.  Totally unrealistic.  They're in love, attracted to each other, married (this is sooo important to you, right).  Are YOU going to abstain from having sex with your spouse?  No way and if you say yes, you're a damn liar.

So what happens should birth control fail, pro-life lawmakers?  If this woman cannot terminate an accidental pregnancy, what are her options?  Carry the child to term knowing it is high risk at her age?  Here's another detail about our wife, she's physically challenged (insert your own ailment, fibro, RA, lupus...).

Can you imagine how a pregnancy will impact her, a 36-year-old disabled woman who works 60-80 hours a week and already struggling to support her family?  Do you care?  No, you care about the unborn more than you care about someone who pays taxes, already has a step-child to support and a husband who is 50 and not interested in raising another child at his age.

Tell me how that makes sense.  Tell me why you would rather allow an unwanted pregnancy to destroy her life than let her have an abortion.  Tell me why you would rather this scenario for all women.

Assuming the pregnancy itself doesn't kill both the woman and the unborn child, are YOU going to adopt these babies?  No.  You’re not.


You would rather they end up on the streets with her little accident in her arms, having to beg and borrow just to feed the child.  Please tell me how that’s better than terminating a pregnancy.


And that is IF she has a healthy baby.  But if you factor in her age and the fact that she is disabled and already under a lot of stress, there's a strong likelihood she will have a child with special needs, she may have a premature child.  There's something she needs like a kick in the teeth, more stress.


Since conservative lawmakers are none too fond of government assistance programs, this disabled 36-year-old new mother with a special needs child who has lost her part-time income because there are only 24 hours in a day and perhaps lost her husband as well because the stress tore their marriage apart (oh, what about the FAMILY conservatives so dearly love to 'preserve'), where does she go now?


No, that's not the right question.


Where does she go now with her special needs child?


That's the right question.  One job that doesn't pay the bills, a child whose expenses are higher than average because of medical needs or challenges, no husband and no assistance programs...


Homeless shelter maybe?  A relative might let her stay there for a couple of months until she can find a shitty apartment and that will be their existence.  The child will eat a lot of ramen noodles, maybe get the occasional hot lunch at school (remember, no more assistance programs, no more reduced-cost lunches for low-income children), hopefully get a decent education, provided the child is not mentally challenged...


Can the mother take her child on a vacation to see the world, experience different places and people?  Don't make me laugh, that costs money.  The woman couldn't afford to take a vacation with her husband before she got pregnant.


But, you know, public school, shitty apartment and maybe some hand-me-down books and toys will make for an enriching life.  When the mother isn't keeping her nose to the grind, trying to earn every penny she can until her body gives out and she can't work at all.  (Meanwhile she hopes her child will be able to live independently or with another sympathetic relative once the mother loses the shitty apartment - even slums cost money.)


Yes, that is SO MUCH BETTER for everyone than just terminating an unwanted pregnancy.  Right.  So much better for YOU, pro-lifer.  The struggling woman and her hungry child will sleep so much better at night knowing you're happy that she chose "life."

Note:

I am neither Republican nor Democrat.  I'm a registered Independent.

Here are a few of my independent positions:

I own guns and support the right to bear arms.

I am pro-gay.

I am pro-choice.

I am atheist and I support freedom of religion as long as there is separation of church and state.

I want lawmakers who are fiscally conservative, transparent and ethical.

I think our government has grown too large and needs to be dramatically reduced.

I support our military.

I support legalizing marijuana.

I think the welfare system needs reform, not elimination.
I vote my conscience.

I pester the ever-loving hell out of my elected officials and encourage all of you to do exactly the same.

A Cure for the Common Fattie

As we know, the bigger you are, the more universally hated you are.

I mean, even Carrie Fisher said the world is a hostile place for a fat person.  She is not wrong.

Yesterday I visited the endocrinologist for a follow up on my issues.  Got CAT scan results.  The good news - nothing is wrong.  The bad news - nothing is wrong.  Square one again.  Still have the pain and the hyperhidrosis but they dunno what's causing it.

This endocrinologist came highly recommended by several people, including my regular doc and my psychiatrist.  So I was expecting the best possible treatment.  First visit went alright.  He tried to push WLS on me, gastric bypass.  Told him no go.  He backed off.

Yesterday he brought it up again, as if he had forgotten I said absolutely not.  And when I reminded him that I wasn't going to do it, he shamed me by making a condescending remark that he thought it was "interesting" that my hyperhidrosis wasn't affected by my weight and sent me on my way.  He even had the gall to refer me back to the Revolving Door Dermatology Warehouse.

Anyway, I left in a huff.  Feeling like a substandard human because I am not small enough to be treated like everyone else.  Not my proudest moment.  I'm angry at myself for letting someone get to me and for allowing myself to feel that way.

Seems like I am seeing so much fat hate lately. More than usual.  I'm probably still miffed over the couple who openly made fun of me last week.  It's all weighing in my mind.  (Weighing... puns... I'm so clever.  *snort*)

Instead of whining about it, I've decided to just buy in.  If you can't beat them, join them, right?  That's what they always say and they always know what they're talking about.

Hate fat people?  Of course you do.  Everyone does.  So let's eliminate them.  These are the most popular techniques currently in use by the diet industry, Cosmopolitan Magazine and millions of commenters all over the internet.

First of all, insults make fat people thin.  I haven't seen this work with my own eyes.  But I know it has to be effective because it is socially acceptable to belittle and shame big people.  Remember the Bowflex guy who "gave all his FAT clothes to his FAT friends?"  That was a national ad campaign.  So that tells you right there that the entire nation can't think of anything worse than being fat.

Bullying, that's another one that really hits home.  Ohkay, this one didn't work on me unfortunately but it probably is helpful to the ones who actually survive it.  I know, I survived it too.  But I'm a bad example because ...  ...  Mmmm...  Hrmmm.  Well, I guess it must work because of science or something.

Alright, now we have the obvious one, diet ads!  Almost every single commercial break has at least one, sometimes several.  There are pills and gadgets and garments and meal plans and you can even hire someone to remind you on a regular basis what a foul, disgusting pig you are.  I think her name is Jillian Michaels.

Of course, you can't watch anything on E! or read anything in mainstream lifestyle magazines without having attention called to the fact that you're a horrible warty fat toad.  All the fashion trends are focused on looking as small as possible.  Smaller is better.  Always.  Amazing summer beach bodies perpetually belong to the stars who have hired a trainer, nutritionist, plastic surgeon and chef then spent all their extra time in their private home gyms to shed an extra five pounds.  And if THEY can do it with their busy schedules and tight budgets, then we slovenly blobs have no excuse.

The next time you are out and about and someone remarks on your size, you immediately apologize!  Then you thank them for helping you keep feelings of shame and embarrassment right under the surface.

Also, go to the nearest bathroom and barf up everything you've eaten for the past three weeks then sell everything you own and hire that trainer lady to scream about all your physical misgivings in your face while you sob on a treadmill.

Fuck.

All.

That.

Shit.

You know what needs a cure?  We do.  All of us.  I have so many friends who put themselves down constantly.  Stop it.  Please.  You're not accomplishing anything positive when you do that.

You read the magazines and think that's how you /should/ look when you roll out of bed.

Let me tell you something.  For 10 years I worked full-time as a makeup artist.  I've seen professional models at 5 a.m.  They have zits, bags under their eyes, scars, crusty cuticles, weird veins, hair growing in strange places.  EVERYONE DOES.

But after a couple hours of hair and makeup, soft lighting, professional photography and a gifted graphic artist retouching the picture, they look like what you see in the magazines.  IT IS ALL A FACADE.  It isn't meant to be lived day in and day out.  It's art.  It's someone's vision.  Flawlessness does not exist in anyone.

What you see as flaws in yourself aren't flaws at all.  They're part of being human.  Stop being so hard on yourself.  I've got to do the same thing.  I have completely unrealistic expectations of who I'm supposed to be and it causes me nothing but endless disappointment.

Fact: Fat people are big.  They're not dumb, they're not lazy, they don't stink.  (Yes, there ARE people in this world who are ignorant, unmotivated and smelly.  Those people come in all shapes and sizes.  Fat has nothing to do with it.)

Fiction: Hating and humiliating fat people will make the world a better place.

I don't know how to make this any clearer.  But the body shame has GOT TO STOP and I'm starting with me.

Why are your bad decisions my responsibility?

No secret I love some Junk TeeVee.  It's nice to have mindless drivel playing in the background when I'm going about my domestic business.  Sometimes I find it entertaining between folding clothes or vacuuming.  Other times, it's just white noise while I do some bookkeeping or during nights when I work from home.

Recently I caught part of a show where a girl with money for $5-mocha-chino-lattes, fake nails, dining out, tanning, designer purses and other things receives government assistance.  Since when is it acceptable to spend money on happy ha ha fun time things then require the taxpayer to pick up the tab for her essentials?

These assistance programs provide a vital service to people who truly need help.  People who are physically or mentally challenged and unable to work but don't have the luxury of having a wealthy parent to buy them a home are the ones meant to benefit from government aid.  Then there are the working poor - people who can and do work yet don't currently earn enough money to pay for medicine or food.  Government assistance is intended for these individuals, sometimes permanently or long-term and other times temporarily until they can get back on their feet.

Government assistance is NOT meant to be used in place of personal accountability.  (Fer shizz, I really want an iPhone 4 even though a regular mobile phone will work just fine.  Unfortunately, I only have enough money to buy things I actually need, like groceries and gas.  BUT if I get food stamps, I'll be able to buy an iPhone 4.  Yay me!  I'm so clever.  Thank you, hard-working people who pay taxes so I can have things I don't really need.)  Many people are doing precisely that and to such a degree that some of these programs are now in danger of being eliminated.  How an able-bodied, able-minded person can abuse the system and sleep at night blows my mind.  Apparently it isn't too hard because it happens every day.

Money for these programs doesn't come flying out of a unicorn's ass.  People who work and pay taxes fund the programs.  Therefore, people who abuse the programs are committing fraud and stealing from taxpayers.


Since when is entitlement en vogue?  What's so glamorous about being a mooch?

Why do taxpayers owe help to someone who doesn't truly need it?

Fifty Pounds of Douche in a Five Pound Bag

I wish I could figure out what is wrong with some people. Then I remember there is indeed much truth to the saying 'ignorance is bliss.' But if I don't complain at least a little bit, I'm going to burst. This week has been such a pisser... literally.

Yesterday afternoon, there was a group of asshole baseball fans in the grocery store parking lot, drinking beers and relieving themselves right out there in the open, in broad daylight. I know what I think to myself when I see an intoxicated loser pissing in public - wow, how amazingly rad. I yearn to be so cool someday.

You do the Kansas City Royals damn proud, you pathetic lot of drunk-driving fuck ups. I would wish that you had both smacked your little silver compact car and your fine redneck limousine (aka truck) into bridge abutments or each other on the way home. But knowing what an upstanding bunch you were, I bet you don't have a lick of insurance so you'd be sucking off the hind government tit to pay for your injuries and I give a massive chunk of my income for that tit so... yeah... unfortunately, I hope you got home safely and without harming non-drunk-driving people.

Just wanted you to know my desire for your well-being is purely motivated by selfishness. If there were no such thing as undeserving fucktards on various kinds of welfare, I would't give half a shit what happened to you guys.

You saw me flag down an employee in the parking lot and you were keen enough to get the hell out of there because I think you figured out I was trying to complicate your evening. Congratulations, you have at least one active brain cell. Too bad we were on private property or else I would have just called the police instead of waiting for the store manager.

I think next time I see something like that, I will call the police. Now that I think about it, you got into your vehicles with open containers. It doesn't matter that you were on private property at that point, does it? Filing that away in my Mental Rolodex for sure.

For what it cost you to drive to the game, park, buy beer and food, you could have all shared a cab and for a few dollars in tip, the cab driver would happily have waited for you while you WENT INSIDE the store or a gas station to use the facilities. Royals fans? Not so much. More like Royal douchebags.

Sadly I can't say that's the only example of the shitty side of humanity I witnessed this week...

Tonight I'm driving home from work. At a stop light, there's a nicely maintained Range Rover. It's been tastefully 'pimped,' not overdone. Next to it in the left-turn lane is a little import of some kind. A Hyundai or Kia, not sure. They all look the same.

This one was especially cherry. Banged up mismatched body panels, with peeling, bubbled tint on the filthy windows and one of those big coffee-can angry farting bee exhaust pipes sagging under the cockeyed bumper. The back tire was gone and in its place was the smallest spare I think I've ever seen in my life. It looked like a stroller wheel.

From the general condition of the car and the fact that the engine wouldn't idle without you repeatedly revving it, I'm guessing that teensy tiny cute little miniature tire has been there for much longer than its intended purpose. And yes, it's impressive that I could hear the engine over the stereo. How is it people can afford these crazy loud speakers but they can't afford a tire? Is damaging your hearing and disturbing the peace really more important than your safety and the safety of other motorists on the road with you?

That itty bitty spare is precious but when it comes flying off your car at 70 miles per hour (I feel safe in assuming you don't realize you're not supposed to drive faster than about 40 mph with a 'donut'... or drive on it for 6 months) it can cause significant damage if it hits another car. Might even kill someone if it goes through a windshield. Fuck other people though. They don't matter. You and your shitty stereo are more important than anything else on the road.

I bet you're the kind of person who spends money on those stupid animated ringtones they advertise during "Teen Mom 2." You know you are. You text your name to the 5-digit number to see what your "Jersey Shore" nickname should be. You can afford $50 a month in extra phone bill fees for Miss Cleo tarot updates on your iPhone but you can't buy a tire for the clapped-out tin can you're driving.

You know something? Your crap tunes and POS car are easy to overlook. It's what you did at the stoplight that made my jaw drop. You and your passenger have small penises or your parents didn't give you enough attention as children. How do I know? I saw you both giving the stink-eye to the Range Rover.

The dirty looks just didn't satisfy you and your passenger though. No. You needed to make a point to that Range Rover because something about it made you mad. Made you jealous? Filled you with rage because it forced you to confront your personal misgivings?

So your passenger, in a move of pure class, deliberately extended his arm as far out the window as he could and flicked his cigarette at the Range Rover. SUCCESS! His cigarette did indeed hit the Range Rover although I doubt its millisecond of contact was enough to mar the paint. Aww shucks. Your little expression of hate turned out to be impotent, just like you.

The Range Rover driver didn't seem to notice either. That must have stung. What were you hoping for from him? Did you think he'd see your point, whatever it was supposed to be, then get out and hand you the keys?

Do I sound like a snob? I shouldn't, because I'm not. I joke about it, but I sincerely am not totally stuck up. Hell, I used to have a hoopty.

I've had a few ugly, cheap cars in my day but they were dependable. That was all I could afford at the time because I do this thing called "living within my means." That's where people spend their money responsibly. It isn't too hard either. Basically, you just refrain from buying non-essentials if you can't afford them.

Smart phones, cigarettes, speaker amps, animated ring-tones, satellite TeeVee and bling bling are non-essentials. A car in good mechanical order and safe tires are essentials. Shocking, I know. It is so simple! Why doesn't everyone do it? That's what I'd like to figure out. So you tell me.

In the cases of these individuals, I think it's safe to consider things like birth control pills, condoms and surgical sterilization as essentials. Top priority essentials even.

I realize no one is perfect. Perfection is not expected. But come the fuck on! There is no excuse for this particular brand of bullshit. Is there? Can it be justified? Try to explain this to me, I am honestly interested. I refuse to believe it is easily dismissed as 'stupid people.' There's got to be something more to it, right?

I'm looking for a cure. Humanity deserves better than this and without a cure, we're doomed because the douchebags are reproducing at a feverish rate... Meanwhile truly responsible and upstanding gay would-be parents are denied the opportunity to adopt or foster on a daily basis.

And people wonder why I'm a misanthrope?! Ugh. This is the part where I build a bridge and get over it.

Maura and the Big Fat Horror

Do you know Maura Kelly? I didn't until today when my bestie Lisa posted a Jezebel link about her on FB. Maura stepped in a big fat pile of shit with a recent blog she wrote for Marie Claire.

Turns out Maura thinks "fatties" are disgusting. Granted, she later apologized but... not really.

This isn't the first time a chick rag has gone there. Cosmo does it all the time with their absurd diet tips peppered through issue after issue. I cancelled my sub to W magazine years ago when they ran the Nan Kempner story with a pull out of her quote, "I hate fat people."

Later that same week, I cancelled my sub to Elle magazine for a similar reason, although I don't recall now what the specific story was. Seems like it was E. Jean's column...

You know how hard it is for a makeup/accessories/fashion junkie like me to swear off all the mainstream girlie mags? I haven't touched a Glamour in years. And their constant fat bashing is why. I'm not going to give my money to any pub that preaches hate or discrimination. Note to advertisers, you might pick your placements a little more carefully. We're watching you.

There's a light in the dark though. -evil grins-

How about Twitter search results with THOUSANDS of tweets speaking out against Maura Kelly's unabashed size discrimination. Not just size acceptance peeps either. Folks from every walk of life were appalled. Men, women, all ages, all colors, all sizes, from all over the world. The message was clear - fat hate isn't going to be tolerated.

If you're looking for some excellent new people to liven up your Twitter stream, you'll find them. I found several. (Thanks Maura! ~winks~)

Reality check... We still have a long way to go. I saw an article this week about size discrimination in the workplace. But stories revealing the truth about manipulated images in magazines give me hope that fat bashing will cease to be socially acceptable someday.

Maura, I hope you can come to terms with your self-loathing. I know this experience is going to set you back a little but as a journalist, you should have thought it through better. Learn from it. Learn that no one is "disgusting" because of how they look. Learn that you're not "disgusting" because of how you look either.

Actions on the other hand... sometimes actions are disgusting and your 'Mike & Molly' blog was an example of that.

If you ever want to feel better about yourself and the way you look, my advice to you is stop reading magazines like Marie Claire.

An indication that you've had enough.

You're right. It's all Obama's fault. The economy, the war, illegal immigration, the environment, broken health care system. All him. He writes all the legislation on his own, and he passes it on his own and those 535 people we call "Congress" don't actually do anything except read scripts given to them by Obama. There were no other people in office prior to Obama who made mistakes either. He's the only one who has ever fucked up ever ever.

In fact, he lies awake at night, scheming on ways to destroy our country and take away our guns and make us all slave vegan Muslims.

We the people have zero responsibility in this. None of us have borrowed money we couldn't pay back and spent it on things we didn't need. None of us live beyond our means. We are all highly informed voters who base our decisions on issues instead of blindly following flawed party lines and we show up at the polls for elections on every level and we diligently communicate with our lawmakers both to express our needs and to monitor their actions, demanding ethical conduct. We get our information from trusted neutral sources like the Library of Congress and VoteSmart.org.

We never start frivolous lawsuits after doing stupid shit to ourselves and tie up the courts and waste tax dollars. Not us! We're all fully accountable for our actions and the actions of our children. We would never blame someone else for our own mistakes, indifference or neglect.

We never try to pass or support legislation based on religious bias or our own personal selfish agendas and all of us who are able to work do work and we never defraud the system. We never try to force our personal beliefs on those around us.

We the people are perfect and innocent and that evil man in the White House is completely to blame. Him and him alone. Oh no, we cannot place responsibility on any of our local, state or federal lawmakers or ourselves. We are all merely helpless pawns in Obama's grand plan to ruin the world.

And I would never have come to this liberating realization without all the endless forwarded emails I receive and never ever try to verify because I fully accept them as fact by reasoning that if it's good enough to press the "Fwd" button, the person who sent it clearly did their homework.

If there is a single person reading this blog right now who failed to immediately recognize all of the above as pure and bitter sarcasm, please click that little "X" up in the corner and you'll be promptly redirected to a website perfectly suited for your level of intelligence.

And so help me gawd if I receive this, my own message, in the future as a forwarded email framed to represent researched facts and edited to omit my disclosure, I will see to it that the current sender and all senders before them die in a mysterious fire. The headlines will say "Homo-loving pot-smoking meat-eating baby-killing freedom-hating psychotic fat atheist bitch locks dozens of respected bigots in local church and torches it!"

Wow. I feel a lot better now.

When Bad Weekends Happen to Good Buffies

Last weekend was probably the worst damn string of events ever to happen to me. Or at least the worst that could happen without anyone dying.

But I learned something.

And it really wasn't "worth it". (How is "worth it" determined anyway?)

Friday night, for reasons I don't feel like discussing, I had to attend a high school football game. This involved 3 things I really fucking hate.

Outside.

Football.

Teenagers.

Some people are sexist. Some people are homophobic. Some people are elitist. Some people are racist.

Buffie is teen-ist.

I think that's a made-up word, but I don't know the real word for a person who hates teenagers as much as I do. Even when I was one, I hated it. You know why I hated it? Because of other teenagers.

I've said this before, but I'd rather face off with all of the Taliban on a bad turban day than have to spend 5 minutes with a person between the ages of 13 and 19.

Is it wrong of me to think like that? Yeah.

But you know what was MORE wrong??? How those fucking bastards treated me when I was a kid. So I feel like I have bloody earned the right to hate teenagers. I have also earned the right to hate frat pukes and other people who generally behave badly in public and in the presence of a fat person. All of them can go eat a scoop full of rat turds.

There were thousands of the sons of bitches there. One screamed in my face, completely unprovoked, and thought it was funny. Mr. Buffie considered knocking him the fuck out for a moment but thought better of it, what with the possibly going to the jail for the assault and all.

Poor Mr. Buffie. I practically rode him piggy-back all the way through the crowd. He had to hold onto both of my hands to assure himself I wouldn't randomly start smacking the ones who got too close to me.

You'd be proud of me though. I survived an entire 30 minutes before making a wild dash to the car and I didn't hit, poke, choke, kick, trip, shoot or shove a single one of them. I might have maybe kinda sorta perhaps accidentally shoulder checked a couple, but hey... you get in my space, I'll get in yours. Turn about is fair play, yes?

Mostly fair play.

They shoulder check me with a wimpy little piece of shit teen shoulder. I shoulder check back mad-fat-chick style and teen asshole spins like a top. I win! hee hee

Did I mention I have had bronchitis for two solid weeks? At the time I didn't know it was a flare up of bronchitis. I thought I was just really effing sick with the cold from hell and my mood was certainly not improved through abuse of NyQuil and obscene amounts of hot tea and whiskey. So let's add that to the weekend I hope goes down in history as the worst there ever was.

That sums up my Friday night.

Saturday I spent in a stupor, tissues shoved up my nostrils and a pillow over my face wishing for all the congestion in my head and chest to either turn to sand or explode and end my misery.

Lying down was completely futile because all the fluid nastiness in me made it impossible to breathe, meaning I got about 3 hours of actual sleep Saturday night.

Then there were the convulsive coughing fits that shook the foundation of my house and made me feel like I would literally pull the Kleenex away from my mouth only to see a chunk of my lung on it.

Now the sickness and the teenagers were really quite enough to make my weekend a total waste of time but ... unfortunately ... that wasn't all.

Guess what I got to do Sunday morning??!!

Wake up early.

Isn't that cute? A foul, snarling, snorting swamp beast being jerked out of slumber after only 3 hours of sleep.

Guess why!!?!?

To go to CHURCH!

Know what happens when you wake up a grumpy, ill, atheist, put her in uncomfortable "church" clothes and make her sit through the most awkward and dreary two hours of "I done so wrong and Jeeesus is pissed but he loves me anyways 'n I shure don't deserve it, oh Lawd, can you puhleeze fergive me and now let me sing to you some of the most depressing music you'll ever hear"?????

My Sunday. That's what you get.

I never understood why someone would be "militant" about something. That's why, even though I feel the way I do about religion, I would never ever in a million billion years have considered becoming a militant atheist.

Well, now I get it. I SOOOO totally get it.

Militant atheists probably don't get invited to church by their friends and family.

The dear people who invited us to church on this particular day, they mean the world to me. This certain day was extra special for one of them and they said it was so important to them for us to be there.

These same dear people asked me point blank, back in 2001, what church I attended. I politely explained I didn't. They wanted to know why. So I told them why. They said, "oh, that's alright, everyone is different."

I took that to mean they understood how I felt about church. I felt confident that I had explained my position on religion. For all I knew, on that day, it was made perfectly clear that myself and these wonderful people had different upbringings, different views and we were still cool with each other.

But over 8 years and a number of denied requests to attend church later... I'm starting to wonder if they didn't get the point.

Both of them were made aware back in 2001 that I was not looking for God but if I ever changed my mind, they'd be the first to know. Both of them assured me there would be no pressure. No attempts to convert me.

For the most part, they've stuck to that agreement. However, I have to wonder. Why keep inviting me to church???

It isn't like something happens there that a person like me wouldn't experience in Jesus-free settings. If I want to hear weepy awful music sang by a pleasant but off-key group of seniors in robes, I would go to a nursing home and host a singin-in-the-shower karaoke contest.

(BTW, why does there always have to be that one church lady who thinks she missed her calling to be on the stage of an opera as the star soprano and now she takes it out on everyone else in the church choir?) Whhaaaaaaaaaaaa Jeeeeeesssssuuuuuuuussssssss whaaaaaaaaaooooooaaaaa!!!!! Haaaaalllll-aaaaaaa-llllllooooooo-yyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! *BANG* (That's me, shooting myself in the ear.)

If I wanted coffee and donuts before a meeting where people cry, I would join a group therapy session that takes morning appointments.

If I wanted to sit in an uncomfortable chair while someone stands in front of me telling me how I do bad shit but they love me anyway, I'd go home, do something to piss off my mum then perch on a stool covered in thumb-tacks and listen to her chew my ass.

If I wanted to have my already suffering sinuses be put through torture by the smell of old, mothballs, furniture polish, dried flowers and too much stanky perfume, I'd visit Hobby Lobby on senior discount day on a July afternoon when the store a/c isn't working.

See? No church needed to experience any of the same church-things and I can do all of that shit minus Jesus stories... which in my opinion don't make a damn bit of sense anyway.

I don't know what Jesus really said. He didn't write any of that stuff in the bible. Other people did. And just as sure as I'm relating to you now the wretched things I went through this past weekend, if Mr. Buffie wrote the same story (cuz he was there through it all) I fucking assure you, his spin would be different than mine. So why should I have to trust what other uneducated people wrote down about shit they didn't understand in a time when there was no scientific thought put into much of anything and read a version of it that has been translated who-the-fuck-knows how many times by people who may or may not have been sticklers for accuracy and believe it's not only true but the like pinnacle of all truth in life? Uhm, no thanks.

Hey, if YOU wanna believe it, do it. More power to you. Oh please be my guest. And believe it with all your heart. Just don't ask me to believe it with you. Besides, your faith isn't affected by how I think, so don't worry about what is going to happen to my soul when I die. I'm not.

Now these people who invite me to church on a not-infrequent basis, they're usually rather understanding (as they should be) when I say no. They kind of make a squishy face and pretend to have momentarily forgotten the whole "Buffie doesn't do Jesus" thing. But lo and behold, they'll invite me again in another 6 months and we go through the confounded awkward mess all over again.

This one time though... I thought dammit, maybe they'll leave me the hell alone if I go just this once, and it should count in spades since it's a special occasion and all. Maybe this will make them happy and it'll be over with. I can consider it my good deed for the DECADE.

But no. No, no, no. Not not but no. Hell to tha no.

Now that I've gone this one time to appease them, I've been invited to come back by all the nice people there and even my dear (and I really don't say that sarcastically, I freaking love these people) friends (they're actually family) are inviting me again.

Listen, friends (technically relatives, but whatever, I consider you friends, too)... I adore you. I truly do. You're two of my favorite people in this whole world and I'd do damn near anything for you. Shit, I have gone to church for you. I'd almost rather set myself on fire than go to church, so appreciate that gesture for what it was. But ya gotta get it through your heads. This isn't something I care to repeat. Ever. I told you before, if I change my mind, I'll be all up in yer churchin. But that day hasn't come and if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath.

I know you two love Jesus and I am positive Jesus loves ya right back. I realize church is a huge part of your lives, but it isn't the ONLY life you have. Like it or not, we're family. That means I'm part of your lives, too. And you're both a big part of mine. A part I love and cherish. We do tons of stuff together and we have a blast and the other stuff we do doesn't make one of us horrendously uncomfortable. Can't we just keep doing those things? Why does it have to be church?

Tell you what, if you're going to insist on inviting me to church, I'm going to start inviting you to blues concerts and burlesque shows. I know loud music and scantily clad chicks shaking their asses isn't your thing but tit for tat, hey?

I'll even trade you one for one. For every time you go to a dive bar or a nudie show with me, I'll go to a meeting of the God Squad with you. Fair?

Getting my point now?

That's what I thought.

Since being a militant atheist isn't really my style, I'll just return your church invitations with requests for you to join me for cheeseburgers at the Shady Lady or I'll ask you to a Rumblejetts show.

Because I know you two love naked tits and raucous jams as much as I love bible time. (Holy shit! This blog is long.)

In the end, I learned that if only my weekend had more strippers, beer and rockabilly music, and less teens and apostles, it probably wouldn't have sucked such a huge bag of dicks.

The glass is half empty? The glass is half full? Doesn't matter, I just need enough to swallow this pill...

So things can't be as bad as we think or hear about on the news, right?

No.  They can't.

Why?  Because we live in a world where Beavis (*the* Beavis) has a Wiki page.  True story.

Speaking of Beavis... now stay with me, because this is a winding path... I was forced, no - I was tortured into watching Barrett-Jackson again tonight.  The noises, I hear them in my sleep.  Heeebiitttdy hebitty heb heb heb Thirty Three ammaw maw maw maw Forty Three four five five five awtibbity tibitty bitty bitty bitty Hum Hum Hummmmmmm SOLD!

*hork*

I ~heart~ cars.  I la la la loathe Barrett-Jackson.  

It's the most unwatchable thing in the history of TeeVee and it is a big shiny symbol of the impending ruination of the muscle car hobby at the hands of rich assholes who buy them up and turn them into museum pieces.  That is NOT where muscle cars belong.  Nor do they belong on trailers.  If they run, if they have good rubber then _drive_ the son of a bitch.  That's why it's cool.

Anyway, Beavis is prone to kicking Butthead in the nads unprovoked.  So I Twitter-Vowed to kick the auction jerkwad in the jewels if I ever meet him.  Not only because I hear his obnoxious chattering in my sleep, but also because I completely dislike his role in taking my dreams of owning a Panther Pink Hemi 'Cuda away from me.

Which brings me to jewels and having a healthy sense of entitlement...  Some chick was on the news tonight bitching and crying because Medicaid wouldn't pay $200 to have her abscessed tooth removed.  So she ended up with all these problems.  Wah wah wah.  She says this and she's sitting in a nice home, and wearing gold rings and a gold necklace and nice clothes.  She can afford bling-bling but she needs $200 of tax dollars to pay for her tooth???  Honey, get your priorities in order.  You don't look physically or mentally challenged to me, get a job.

I shouldn't watch the news.

I shouldn't watch Barrett-Jackson either.  Unfortunately, it was Mr. Buffie's turn to use the remote tonight.  ...sigh...

Useful stuff folks.  You'll be glad to know these things should you ever find yourself on Wheel of Fortune or COPS.

Holy gawd, I did it again! 25Jan09

You'd think burning your boob with a curling iron is something you only have to do one time before you figure out it's smart to wear a more than a bra when doing your hair.

/You'd think..../

Apparently I'm not that smart.

Friday, I did it again! Dropped a hot curling iron on my boob! Different side this time. Left a mark. Hurts... awesome. Not.

To make myself feel better, I looked at the interwebs. Randomly found a crazy hot pic of Jason Wade, with whom I have a semi-unhealthy fixation. Dreamiest guy since Simon LeBon, amen he is.

I might be able to post it here. Let me see if I have any special blog skillz... (I can't remember how I posted the pic last time. LOLz)

He's even holding a puppy. Epic Swoon. -----sigh----- 

^_^

Ramble at your own risk! BEWARE! People may actually read it! 04Aug08

For punishment, I often read CNN.com, MSNBC.com and if I've been really naughty, FoxNews.com.

On one of those sites I read an article about how medical students could be doing "damage" to their careers by posting photos of themselves on the MySpace or FaceBook or whatever else.

Really? 

Because frankly, how many people expect their doctor to be a robot who has never been photographed, never socialized online, never done anything resembling fun ever ever ever? A show of hands please? 

I didn't think so.

Now, it's one thing to be photographed burning a cross and wearing a big white hood and expect to have ethnically diverse clients. But if that is who you really are, by all means, BE who you really are. I'm sure black patients would rather know you're a bigot in order to avoid seeking your services. You'd be doing them and yourself a favor. Same goes for the ObGyn who might post photos of himself with a "No Fat Chicks" t-shirt. Sure as the sun rises, I would not want to have him for a doctor, so if he discloses that on his MySpace (and who checks our their doctor on MySpace anyway) then this is information that helps me very much in my decision making.

Why all the paranoia about what we do online? Is this somehow worse than what we do in person? Because frankly, if there's a witness, then it's history you can't erase, whether it's stored digitally or in someone's memory. A digital record is at least typically more reliable than a memory... less open for debate, all things considered and if the data has not been manipulated or altered.

Should I be paranoid about what I do online? Heck no. What I do here I would do anywhere. Why does it matter if it's preserved in text and photos? Some of this stuff I don't want to forget. This serves as a great record of good times I've had and fun people I know. Even if I were going to be a doctor, I would not change a thing. 

Don't misunderstand me to say that I think someone should act however the fuck they want in whatever company. I do believe in manners and respect and certain social standards. But that's mostly a matter of common sense. Don't swear in front of your grandparents. Don't wear low-rise jeans exposing your purple glitter thong to your office unless your boss is Hugh Hefner. Chew with your mouth closed. Say 'please' and 'thank you' when it's appropriate. Simple stuff.

But don't hide under your bed and think you've ruined your life because you were photographed holding a beer at a pub with some friends. I'm relatively sure at some point in history, at least one successful doctor has had a beer or been in a pub.

People who are paranoid and freaking out about things they've done or said online should perhaps evaluate who they are in person. Why do they feel like they have to be different where the interwebs is concerned? The best person you can be is who you ARE. Own it. No one is perfect, including you. So say 'fuck it' and have a life you enjoy and share that life with the people who matter to you. 

Don't let the media's fear mongering bully you away from being yourself. No one likes it when the bully wins. 

Screw you, medical-student-online-life-study-people! Quit snooping around on other people and find your own way to post drunken slack-jaw photos of yourself online. Maybe if you weren't acting all super spy online, you'd actually have drunken fun worthy of photographing!

Pfffffttttt!!!!!!!

Noise in the Hood. 26Jun08

More from the sponge-like mind of Buffie. Her PlateWire bitch-fest makes a special appearance on MySpace, in yo face.

Why do the people with the most crap taste in music always have the loudest, nastiest, distorted stereos? 

That's one of my biggest pet peeves. 

It isn't other drivers' faults if Mr. Loud Tunes likes junk music. Why punish the rest of the people on the road by blaring a cracked MP3 of it from a busted speaker in the trunk of his hoopty? Rrrrrrgggg! I hate that!

What's the thrill? Do they need attention that badly? Besides, they should consider the attention they're getting. No one is impressed by their tired ass ride and no one is going to give them a thumbs up for playing rubbish we can hear anytime of the day on the radio in our own cars. Losers. 

One of these days I'm going to try putting James Taylor all the way up to 11 while I'm in traffic and see what this big fad is all about. Apparently we're missing something from our lives with our quiet, unintrusive radios folks. We need to branch out.

Just sayin...

The White Bandage of Courage - or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tumor. 04Jun08

It's been a strange couple of weeks.

At the end of April, out of nowhere, I start feeling this knot on my stomach. That's weird. Doesn't hurt. Hmph. It'll go away.

But 2 weeks later, it was SO NOT going away. FINE. Goddammit, fine. I'll call the doctor. I'll use one of my FEW covered doc appointments (thanks to fucking cheapskate changes in my insurance and a shitty economy).

Doc pokes around at it. Says it's a cyst and sends me to a surgeon. He pokes around at it, says not a cyst. Dunno what it is. Will chop open and remove at hospital.

Show up at hospital. Got poked with needles, and given some magic gas. Pass out. Wake up an hour later. Feel odd painful sensation where mysterious lump used to be. Try to touch area. Feels like cotton and gauze cell phone has been taped to my belly. Geezus christ, what did they do to me.

Mr. Buffie says the doc told him no worries. Still dunno what it is, but sending it to the lab. (You mean I go through all this shit and I don't get to keep it? I even brought a jar with me.) 

Got home with magic pills. Wake up 2 days later. 

Look at incision myself for first time. Fucking cow! That's a HUGE cut. How big was this thing? The doc supposedly said it was small, like a walnut or a pecan. That's got to be a 6 inch incision. Good grief. This suture thing is cool though. There's only one "stitch". It sticks out on one side, goes under my skin and holds it together, then sticks out the other side. Neato. 

This thing flippin hurts though. Sitting up really sucks because my belly puts pressure on the cut. Massive bruises, too. Lame lame lame.

But alas, I feel like something is now missing. Over the weeks, I grew close to my new little friend. I had given it a name and had big plans for it. I was going to keep it in a jar with some glitter, like a snow globe. It was going to have a band, too. Lil Tumor and the Tape Worm Twins (the tape worms were going to be supplied by someone else. I don't have tape worms) would release their single "Band in a Jar". It would be a top 40 hit. They would have their own Behind the Music special on VH1. However, it is not to be. The tumor was abducted by someone on the staff at St. Luke's. Certainly they were unaware that they had absconded with a local celebrity.

Geeeeeeezus christ it hurts. I find myself just sitting, in a stupor, wondering when the pain will subside. Yeagh. My second boob job didn't hurt this bad, ironically.

Gas prices have me totally depressed. Unfortunately I've had time to think about it. I've had time to ponder on too much. We're going to have a new president in a few months. Another wealthy suit who doesn't know or give two shits about middle class people like me or my family. 

Then I get all bitter about people who abuse the welfare system and how they slowly drain funds from those of us already struggling to make ends meet. I just ~heart~ the saying "if you can't feed em, don't' breed em". Why can't more people take that to heart? If you're struggling and you have 2 or 3 kids, fine. Get some TEMPORARY help. But QUIT popping out kids until your ass can afford them. Oh... and don't bitch and whine about having so little and needing my tax dollars for help when your ass can always afford cigarettes, cell phones, booze, cable tv, and acrylic nails. Government aid is meant for disabled people, the elderly, disadvantaged kids, and those who need TEMPORARY help. It is NOT a way of life or a free ride for some lazy ass who thinks they're entitled to a hand out. 

I've spent most of today trying to scrub my brain fee of these thoughts. I'm SO over it. Call me shallow if you must, but there's a reason why I would rather watch E! News over CNN. I can only handle so many bloated politicans, earthquakes, soaring fuel prices, and global warming. Give me info on the latest in purses for summer, lip gloss that smells like bubble gum, where to buy cheap earrings, what cars bounce your boobs the most when you drive over speed bumps, kittens in baskets... You know... Buffie stuff.

I have over a thousand unanswered messages in my MySpace inbox. Gulp. Me so sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to get to all of those in a timely manner. Oh long johnson, why can't I have a fake job where I don't ever leave the house? Is there any way I can get paid for goofing off on MySpace? What about getting paid to nap? Certainly that's worth something.

I am just not quite myself. I miss my friends. I think Kevin is going to visit soon. Chuckwagon better get himself prepared for another princess in the house. Bring on the alcohol and guacamole. Chuck still can't eat a tortilla. Kevin ruined tortillas for him. Way to go, Kev!

The world has to get better. Soon. Or else the news needs to start reporting some of the good things that happen. Too much information is a bad thing, especially when it's all shit shitty crap shit that's making our lives so hard. 

What have we here... in the cabinet... I spy chocolate covered almonds. Joy and excitement! Well, that is certainly the best thing I've found today.

Later gators. I have an appointment with yummy goodness.

The Bowflex Guy is a dickweed. 18Dec07

Have you seen that Bowflex commercial? No, not that one. The one with the pug-faced smug guy who talks about his wife "giving him that little wink"...

That guy... if that's how he acts in person... geezus. Hi. Buy a Bowflex and you can be an asshole just like me!

He says "I gave all my fat clothes to my fat friends" all high-and-mighty like. WHATEVER. Dude, if that's how you really are, I *strongly* doubt you have ANY friends, fat, thin or otherwise. 

Sheesh. Who was the marketing genius behind THAT ad?

Hellllooooo, gym and diet and work-out advertising people, if you want folks to buy your products and shit... like, I dunno... say fat people... If you want fat people to spend their hard earned cash on your junk, perhaps start out by NOT insulting them in your commercials? Just a suggestion. Y'all seem to do that a lot.

Hey you. You suck. Come spend money on my shit or else I'll spit in your eye and call your momma names! 

Mmmhmmm, that's the way to win folks over. You Madison Avenue people clearly have it alllll figured out.

Gah!

(I know... another fat-rant. Hey, write what you know. That's the saying, yes? Besides, it's more fun than crying to everyone about how I don't have an MTV award or having a cow about Brangelina's baby-buying spree.)

But... speaking of celebrities. It's another time of year when I fear drunk drivers more than usual. In case you didn't know, I ABSOLUTELY LOATHE drunk drivers. I hate even more the drunk drivers who have easy access to alternatives, such as taxis, buses or sober friends but don't make good use of them. 

Then there are celebrity drunk drivers. ALL OF YOU DESERVE TO BE IN JAIL.

Paris, Britney, Lindsey, that Kardashian sister and all their privileged friends not only have TONS of money for cab fare or a limo, they have enough money to HIRE A CHAUFFER permanently. Celebrities don't have to drive ANYWHERE if they don't want to and they sure as fuck don't "have" to drive drunk or high or loaded on Valium. 

I don't give a shit about your Bently, your pocket-size great dane, your Jimmy Choos or your Fendi bag. Those things don't make you a nice person or a smart person and money can't buy you a good soul. You're spoiled ignorant hookers and any one of you should spend a day in my life or the life of one of my friends and see what it's like to work a long effing day, get paid in peanuts, drive home in a car with mis-matched tires or squeaking belts, have to clean your own kitchen, check your own mail or wipe your own ass. OH... and NOT drive while under the influence. Gee... if we mere simple peasants can do it, why can't you?

Driving drunk is lame and dangerous and if you live in Kansas City and you can't pull your head out of your butt long enough to figure out a way to drink WITHOUT getting behind the wheel, use Grab A Cab from EAP. Unlike me, these people take pity on your stupid ass and they will reimburse your cab fare for doing the right thing by NOT driving yourself home. Ask your employer if your company participates in EAP.

Since I'm not a total Scrooge (well, mostly but not completely) I would like to say - HAPPY Holidays! 

Please be safe and beware of morons in SUVs. I care about y'all and want you to enjoy your festivities! 

Eat lots of good stuff, give your friends and family TONS of hugs, volunteer for something close to your heart and stay warm!

Jingle!
~Buffie

The Curse 04Dec07

2007 has NOT been kind to Buffie. 

I started the year with the mysterious loss of a toenail. (Alright, it wasn't that mysterious. I tripped over a shoe sneaking to the potty in the middle of the night and broke it, but didn't know it until the next day.)

Then... I got SARS followed by bird flu, then monkey pox. That's how it felt anyway. Turns out it was just a vicious case of bronchitis and I was starting to develop pneumonia. Thankfully my immune system woke itself up and fought back before I totally succumbed to the nasties. 

THEN... I drop a HOT curling iron down my shirt. Burned the fucking hell out of my left booby. How much did that suck? You have no idea.

It gets better... a couple days after the curling iron scar starts to heal, I break a toe! I effing BROKE my toe. WTF! It was exactly how people say, too. You think you have stubbed it really bad, but then you look down and it's pointing the wrong way and the horror sets in about the same time the pain does. Geezus. Mr. Buffie picked up my foot, very carefully examined my toe and without warning he grabbed it and pulled it straight. Pretty sure the neighbors 3 blocks away heard me squeal. That was some wicked pain. The days after were fascinating, watching it turn so many shades of purple, green, blue, red and yellow. Fascinating and disgusting. Walking was OK, but there were no heels in my wardrobe for weeks. Blah! It's also true what they say that you can't do anything for a broken toe. I called my doc and she said if it was straight, the best she could do would be to tape it to my other toes and send me on my way... Hells bells, I could do that myself. 

Then I got sick again... this time it was a different strain of 3rd world disease all coming together in my sinuses to make me wish I were dead. Completely unfair.

Sold my Jaguar. Made me sad for a while because that was the fucking sweetest ride I'll ever have. Nigel was a kickass car. However, Nigel was starting to make a strange noise. We could never figure out what it was. Strange noises in British cars mean cubic dollars spent on parts and labor only for a new strange noise to develop two months later. Time to go back to American automobiles. Got me a damn fine Z28 and named him Billy Idol. But what do I discover after having him for a month? There's a DEAD SPIDER -INSIDE- my instrument panel. Did you know the front glass on the instrument panel cannot be removed? It can't. Not without removing the entire dash. Yes, the whole goddamned enchilada. There's a dead motherfucking spider stuck right under my oil pressure gauge. GGGGGRRRRRRRRRR!!! 

Had an abscess in my lower jaw in June. Not my idea of a good time. Had some x-rays done and the dentist thought it was just some freak thing we would 'keep an eye on' but felt like antibiotics would do the trick. They did... but it hurt like hell in the meantime. Blah!

Found a great house... moved in July. JULY. July in Missouri is like being in an oven with a pot of water. Humid, hot and no damn wind at all. Moving in July is punishment for crimes I must have committed in a former life because this is the 3rd time I've done it.

Developed a nice case of chronic hives in August. Doc can't figure it out. Allergist can't figure it out. Holistic healer guru can't figure it out. They all strongly suspect I'm allergic to the shrimps. No one loves the shrimps more than I love the shrimps. But now I cannot eat the shrimps. I think the shrimps did this to me. It was shrimp revenge. They feared I would eat them ALL. Here's a warning to you shrimps! If I ever find out the cause of my red itchy welts, and it ISN'T a seafood allergy, you better run and hide because I'll be on you like a Buffie on shrimps! HA!

Moving right along... things at work are in a constant state of chaos. My boss, who was the most awesome individual ever and the best boss I will ever have in my life, quit unexpectedly. I stand behind her decision, but I'm so very sad. Things are just wrong around there without her. Completely wrong. She is missed every day.

Went in for my dreaded annual mammogram. Having one's boobs smashed mercilessly in a torture device invented by Satan himself is something a woman shouldn't have to endure EVER, but because God is clearly a man and secretly hates us all, we get to do this crap on a yearly basis! Just like a birthday, only shitty! Yay! What happens next? The radiologist thinks there's something in one of my films, so I get to go back a few weeks later and have it done AGAIN! Oh the joy! The happiness! What a thrill! What was it? Turned out to be nothing. I'm glad for that, don't misunderstand me... but since I had an extra one this year, can I skip it next year? Please?

In case my feet haven't been through enough this year, I break ANOTHER TOE recently. Yes, another one!!! Same foot, different toe. What is WRONG with me? This time it was in broad daylight and I tripped over a chair. Maybe my boobs blocked me from seeing it or else I have inner-ear balance issues, but I totally snagged myself on a chair. I'm special.

To top it all off, last week, dental surgery. No, I'm not kidding! Molar extraction! Came out of no where!!! I was having some pain in a tooth where I had undergone a root canal about a year before... same one that abscessed in June. We know why it abscessed now... root was cracked so the root canal never fully healed at all. 2007 has clamied a Buffie toe nail AND a Buffie tooth. That's fucked up.

2008, you can't get here soon enough! Please hurry!!! I'm scared I'll wake up missing a nostril or something awful like that. 

Oh... 2007... fuck you!

The Egg Salad Rant 03Oct07

The following prose is entitled "The Egg Salad Rant" and it is reprinted here with permission from the author, me, and was originally sent to Mr. Buffie via email on 24 September 2007. I'm putting it here because 1, Mr. Buffie tells everyone about it anyway, which is stupid. And 2, one of those people he told is the creepy type who steals other people's stupid and pretends it's their own stupid. Is that not fecking stupid?

Food Network is such a trip tonight!

They're talking about egg salad. Which is disgusting, ok? I know like 3 people who like egg salad and they're all OLD. No offense to old people because with any luck, we will be old some day. But seriously, name 3 people around your age or my age who like egg salad. Barf!

So they're interviewing this woman who's a rep for the shit I fogot the name... uhhh... had to back it up. -shudder- It looks so nasty! Reser's. (That jello stuff you like is Reser's. Hmmm... lol... You know Mr. Buffie, it's a slippery slope from jello salad to Luby's Cafeteria at 4pm on a Friday. Haa ha aha haaaaaa.)

The Reser's rep woman is being interviewed and she takes her egg salad effing seriously, alright? There is NOTHING FUNNY about egg salad. They make 4 kinds of egg salad and MOST people like egg salad the plain old fashioned way. Just eggs and mayo... (gag gag gag hack hack hack cough cough cough) She says this all Bueller Bueller Bueller Anyone Bueller except it's m o s t p e o p l e l i k e e g g s a l a d t h e o l d f a s h i o n e d w a y j u s t e g g s a n d m a y o .

I like eggs. I like mayo, but that is just WRONG. It's like pouring milk over ice cream. Only grosser! Makes no goarshdanged sense at all. 

You'd be laughing at this woman. She's a middle-aged-school-marm female-Napoleon-Dynamite, except not funny but she's funny because she's not funny. You get that, right? 

Now I'm sad for her. Aww. She probably needs a friend. I'm mean. ... But not all the time and I'd never be mean to her face. That still doesn't make it right. Forgives?

Ohkay, later they have a rep from Hungry Man talking about the salisbury steak TV dinners. If he hooked up with the Reser's rep lady, their kids would be serial killers. I'm not kidding. He has the "thousand mile stare" which is NOT a good quality in a person who works in a place where whole cows are gound up in to processed meat food product extract. It's like the mob owning a hot dog plant. Ewww.

Now you, too, know the Egg Salad Rant. ... no, really, that's all there is. Seriously, that's the whole thing. Right, you're absolutely right, it is lame. I know. I knew it was lame when I wrote it. I was drunk, but that's irrelevant. At least I don't drive when I drink like some people. Yes, I'm judging people who drink and drive. They suck. 

If you're nice, I'll share with you the "Smell Good Things/Smell Bad Things" Rant.

Ready?

I work in the last smoking-permitted office in western culture, right. Yeah, not kidding. They have a great 401k, that's why. Besides, my job is awesome and I work with cool peeps. I mostly dig it.

The "smoking thing" has been an ongoing battle. Sort of like the Cold War, except everyone is suddenly friends when there's beer or food to be shared. Plus no one spies. At least not that I know of. Although there were threats for a while to put cameras in the bathrooms but that is such a long story and you really don't want to hear it and it is not interesting... not that the "Smell Good Things/Smell Bad Things" Rant is interesting, but let's face it, you're reading my blog - clearly "interesting" isn't something you seek at this particular moment. Prima facie evidence, that's all I'm sayin.

Anyway, on this side of the ring, we have the smokers who will smoke from beyond the grave if they can figure out how to make it happen. And in this corner we have the people who used to smoke and sympathize with the smokers. And in THIS OTHER corner, we have the vegan non-smokers who only breathe recycled bottled hepa-filtered purified air! And in THIS OTHER CORNER OVER HERE we have the people who used to smoke and have gone deep deep deep into the other extreme and hate smoking even more than the granola munching gym rat vegans in That Corner. AND IN THE MIDDLE we have the people who don't smoke, don't care and just wish we could get on with the day although we would prefer not to breathe the smoke we're a little more tolerant than some people people. Got that? Oh, shoot. Almost forgot... and mingled thoughout the extra spaces in the ring, we have the people who don't smoke, don't eat organic and just want to complain about whatever is convenient because they enjoy being squeaky wheels and there's nothing wrong with that we all like attention sometimes people people. Whew.

Apparently someone had a real bad time today because of someone else's air freshener and that person took it to HR who issued an email that all "smell good" things are banned from the office. I don't make this stuff up, folks. Sorry for that person, if you got sick from someone's "smell good" things because that has happened to me before when I've gone to church with my Aunt (as a favor for her) and sat behind the row of ladies who confused their perfume with a vat of human marinade and soaked in it overnight then got up early before church and went for a nice, long, hot, humid, moldy run through a field of cat turds and dried flowers. Totally feel your pain, I do. Also, sorry if I assumed you were just being a pain in the ass but weren't really. Oh, and piss off. That I said just because I can. It's my blog, I do what I want. Hee hee hee!

Email basically says "smell good" things are causing problems and there will be none more at work. Bummer for me because I happen to enjoy a couple of co-workers who have these neato flame-less candle smell good things.

... Me, being one of the people in the middle of the ring but also sometimes on the complainer side of the ring decided to pop off my mouth about it, in yet another email to Mr. Buffie who proceeds to embarrass me in electronic format by sharing more of my (what I thought was private) stupidity with other people. 

Here it is:

Let me get this straight... "smell good" things are bad!?!? But it's alright if the guy on the next floor up SMOKES HIS PIPE and farts his brains out in the elevator!?!?! 

Makes me wonder what clout-wielding sting-bomb smoking cry-baby whined to HR about someone's plum berry mountain breeze spring laundry rain melon hazelnut cucumber butt cheese magnolia pine needle candle!? How much do you want to bet this wasn't even about what "smell good things". I wonder if it's about someone getting mad at someone else, having no REAL cause for complaint and coming up with the smell-good-things-make-my-happy-place-turn-sad as the next best thing. Only theorizing. 

Everyone knows smelling nice is an offensive assault on the olfactory senses! Of course it is. How dare someone have "smell good things" in the office! 

Reeking of over cooked nicotine, skipping a shower after working up a gnarly pungent STENCH in the gym at lunch, having vodka vapors to waft from your pores, and blasting flatulence in your wake is more than socially acceptable. In fact, it's even admirable in some cultures! 

Groan!

The End.

Brad Sherman (D-CA) looks like a penis wearing glasses. 

Ohkay, I'm really done now. Had to get that out of my system.