Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

Sorry I've been out of the loop for a couple of weeks. I took some much needed R & R to recover from the holiday season both at home and work.

I've been catching up on all the recorded shows I missed and trying to veg-out a bit. Hard to do with everybody in the family wanting/needing something, but I'm doing my best.

Ok, being the juvenile potty-humorist that I am (I blame adoption, I really do!), a couple of commercials have me going WTF?

The first is that vaginal deodorant ad where the character says, "I found out the hard way..."

How? How did you find out? Did your hubby come to bed with a clothespin on his nose? Did somebody on the bus exclaim, "girlfriend, you got some funk?" Did you sit on the lawn and make your own crop circle when all the grass and flowers wilted around your stanky butt? How?

The other commercial that has my head spinning is the new Activia commercial.

Jamie Lee Curtis says, "Keep a video diary and let me know about your new normal"!

Huh? What are you supposed to video? The results in the bowl? You with a smile on your face every day saying, "I just dropped a huge doody, and boy do I feel great!!"???

WTF?

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

A Montana teen texted her boyfriend that she was going to crash her car into oncoming traffic in an effort to commit suicide. Shortly thereafter, going 85 mph, she crossed the center line and crashed head-on into another car, tragically killing the pregnant driver and her young son.

She was charged as an adult (17 years old) for deliberate homicide. Right now, the case is being decided as to whether she should be prosecuted as a minor or an adult.

In the meantime, she and her father are suing the estate of the VICTIM for damages, citing that the accused "suffered permanent and continuing injuries, along with mental pain and suffering and the loss of capacity to enjoy life. It cites future loss of income and past, present and future medical expenses. Winter is seeking a judgment against the defendants for damages, costs, pre-judgment and post-judgment interest and other relief deemed appropriate."

WTF? I mean seriously. "Loss of capacity to enjoy life?" Didn't sound like she was enjoying life much when she TRIED TO KILL HERSELF AND TOOK OUT A COUPLE OF OTHERS IN THE PROCESS! Gah!

______________________________

In another matter, 4 guys rent a canoe to enjoy a river ride. Being dumbasses (or just being doods, take your pick), they come up with the brilliant plan to jump off a railroad trestle that bridges said river into the water.

3 guys make it. 1 does not. He was hit by a train when he tried to outrun it.

Now his mother is suing the railroad and the canoe rental company for damages.

She's suing the railroad company because they couldn't stop the train fast enough.

Uh yeah. Everybody knows you can stop a zillion tons of steel on a dime. It's a train, fer pete's sakes, not a mini cooper.

She's also suing the canoe company because they "knew or should have known" that stupid people jump off of train trestles that go over rivers so they shouldn't be renting canoes.

It seems kind of obvious that critical thinking isn't an inherited trait in that family.

As her attorney said, this was “a tragic death that could have been and should have been prevented.”

Well duh. It prolly wouldn't have happened if the victim hadn't climbed up the train trestle, ya think?

WTF?

__________________________________

From the "That Really Takes Some Balls" department:

A guy in Seattle admired a totem pole he saw in a park. Instead of having one made for the house he was building, he convinced a crane company that he was the city arts commissioner and was having the 18-foot pole restored. So they took it down and delivered it to his house. It didn't fit in the guy's garage, so he hid it.

Took 8 months and a trip to Oregon to get that sucker back.

WTF was he thinking? WTF are any of these people thinking?

Sometimes You Just Got to Say...

I've got a great big steaming bowl of WTFs cluttering up my in-box just screaming to get out!

Although there are leash laws in their area, the Flemming family were used to letting their 12-year-old yellow Lab Jake outside to roam at will. Sadly, he was hit by a car and killed. A couple of months later, they got a letter from State Farm Insurance asking reimbursement for the damage sustained to the driver's car.

They were so indignant about it that they were able to make the news (you'd think the reporter would know better, but I guess it was a slow news day).

"'We've lost a member of our family but we're supposed to pay for the damage to her bumper? That's just wrong,' daughter Katherine Flemming said."

Oh, where to start, where to start...

What's wrong, dear doofus, is irresponsible pet owners like you who don't think that laws apply to your extra-special selves and let your dogs roam unattended without leashes. The driver didn't hit your dog on purpose, that's why they're called "accidents". She sustained damage, and somebody is responsible for it. Should it be her? Should it be the insurance company?

No, it should be you. If it wasn't for you, her car wouldn't be dented and your dog wouldn't be dead.

WTF?

These two ladies deserve matching Richard Cranium awards.

Janice Eberle of Danvers is fighting a $300 ticket for parking her Mercedes SUV in a handicapped space. Her excuse? It was raining and her arm hurt. Plus she was only going "in for a minute".

In Arlington, Texas, Tweed Clark ran into the courthouse "for just a few minutes" to pay her daughter's $250 dollar speeding ticket. Unfortunately--koff koff--she "didn't realize" that she wasn't supposed to block the access to handicapped parking. She's fighting the $600+ ticket she was issued as "excessive".

I think they should slap on another $100 for sporting such a precious name as Tweed, but that's just me.

WTF Ladies?

Last, but not least, the Prairie South School District certainly has its priorities mixed up.

5-year-old Ryan Coomber wears a prosthetic leg. Bullies on the school bus have taunted and teased him, punched him in the face, taken his backpack away from him, and one darling child even tried to remove his prosthetic. When his parents complained to the school, how did the school respond?

Ryan and his sister are no longer allowed on the bus for their own safety. Instead, their parents have to drive them 25 miles each way to and from school.

What a crock of crap. Why shouldn't the bullies be forced off the bus instead of the victim? Make THEIR parents haul them back and forth to school. Maybe those parents will be so inconvenienced they'll do something about their little monsters.

WTF People?

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

During the worst of the H1N1, when Big Kid was in the ICU, Hubby and I came up close and personal with the importance of hand washing.

Like everybody else, we'd been taught and practiced washing our hands after going to the bathroom, before eating, etc.

While our son was in the unit, we'd have to wash, glove up and mask before entering his room, and then drop the gloves and the mask at the door upon exiting and go straight to the sink and wash again before leaving. And since there wasn't a bathroom in his room and we had to go out of the unit to the public bathroom, we were doing this like 10 times a day. gah.

Recently I've seen a few commercials for a hands-free soap pump for home use, brought to us by a major soap company. All you have to do is wave your hand in front of it, and it will dispense whatever soap you have stuck in there.

I can think of a lot of uses for this.

Like when you've got a baby in one arm and need to clean up cookie snot or formula blow-back. Or you're doing the dishes and your mom calls, and you're trying to talk to her while scrubbing and don't have a third arm.

What I can't figure out is how the idiot who came up with the current marketing campaign still has a job, or whoever greenlighted it as a good idea is still earning a paycheck too.

They are marketing it as a good way to avoid a germy soap pump handle in your home.

Um like, once you touch the handle to pump soap on your hands, you aren't immediately going to WASH your hands?

Dude, WTF?

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

So a guy gets drunk, goes home, gets nekkid and passes out in bed.

Except it isn't his bed.

He's in the wrong house. He actually lives a block or so over.

The bed's occupant, a 6-year-old boy, goes into his parents' room and wakes them up.

"Mommy, Daddy! There's a man in my bed!"

When police arrive, the homeowners are screaming at them from their second-story bedroom window.

As they enter the house, the police find items of clothing on the floor, smelling of booze and urine as they make their way to the second floor. And yes, they also found drunken guy passed out in the kid's bed. So they arrested him.

Now comes the WTF part.

Nekkid guy's defense?

First one is out of the "These aren't my pants!" playbook (where a suspect on Cops gets patted down and the cops find dope in his pocket. He screams, "These aren't my pants! I've never seen these pants before in my life!").

He denies that he went to the wrong house.

You mean like that whole family snuck into HIS house and set up shop while he was at the bar to play a prank on him?

His other defense is that the cops only arrested him because they were racially profiling him.

Arrested while Irish? snarf.

Dude, you messed up. Take it like a man. Sheesh!

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

Today is the 4th Annual Blogging Against Disabilism Day.

For a couple of weeks I've been poking around in what happens to pass for my brain these days, trying to come up with a topic mined from disabilism experiences we've had in the past year.

This experience? No, too personal.

That experience? No, too sad.

What about this one? No, way too mundane.

To be perfectly honest, it's been a pretty boring year on the advocacy front in the Attila household. My killer bunny slippers have been dying a slow death from the lack of butts to kick.

Trust providence to furnish a perfect opportunity at the perfect time.

Now how would I title this? Asshat of the Week? You're a Douchebag? TLPWSFB (The League of People with Sh*t For Brains)?

All too harsh, in my opinion. Your mileage may vary.

So I'm just going to say...

WTF?

WTF were you people thinking?

Ramco Primary School in South Australia had a worthy idea to raise money for a program in Bangladesh that repairs cleft lips and palates in children.

All well and good, and very philanthropic. But as you know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

So they sent out a newsletter announcing that May 29 was going to be "Dress Like a Disabled Person Day."

"There will be prizes for the best students dressed as a person with a disability. Get your thinking hats on and see what disability you can represent!"

Here's a great big steaming bowl of WTF? With raisins on top!

When they mention "prizes" does that mean they'll be categories? Like for "most realistic" (where some soccer mom actually catheterizes her kid to win because you know, people are weird that way) or "best accessories"?

Do the accessories have to be something you can carry---like crutches----or do they have to be somewhat attached like a g-tube or a colostomy bag? Will there be extra points for big accessories like a chair or an iron lung?

Snarkiness aside, this obviously begs an answer to the question, "how exactly do people who have disabilities dress?"

So I asked my Little Guy. For those of you who aren't familiar with the characters who share my life, my youngest son is 19, has Autism and some cognitive deficits. I call him Little Guy here, although he really isn't very "little" any more. ;-)

If you were dressing up like for Halloween as a person with a disability, what would you wear?

He thought about it for a minute. "I'd take a shower and brush my teeth first. And comb my hair."

Ok, what else?

"Clean underwear. I'd wear clean underwear. And a belt on my Dickies pants. And my Gap sweater. Oh, and my watch."

Is that it?

"I'd tie my shoes. And clean socks. Smelly feet are nasty."

On second thought, maybe "Dressing As a Disabled Person Day" isn't such a bad idea after all.

For one day of the year all the students will turn up clean and fresh-smelling, well-groomed, stylishly dressed and on-time.

What's not to like?
____________________________________________

Please take a little time to check out all of the wonderful bloggers who are contributing posts today! Click on the link at the top of my post to be taken to the list.

Have a wonderful weekend!
_________________________

P.S. at 11:15pm.

Oh Golly. I know that BADD is winding down for the day, but I went back to the original article (the link is posted above) and simply must say again,

WTF?

While many of the commenters found the whole idea of
Dress Like a Disabled Person Day" repulsive, there were plenty who had the sentiment of:

"Jeez. Just one innocent error in judgement by some normal kids trying to do something good for the school and all the cripples come out of the woodwork crying foul. It's not such a bad idea and if it raises awareness and raises funds for non normal people then let them do it!"

So much so wrong in so many ways.

Peace,

ATM

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say....

An 8th-grade girl took nekkid pictures of herself and sent them to multiple boys in her school via cellphone.

One 13-year-old boy has been arrested and suspended from school on child pornography charges for having her pictures in his phone. The police and school officials aren't commenting on whether or not charges will be filed against the other recipients.

Of course, not a damn thing on whether or not the sender will be charged for transmitting child porn. Our laws prolly haven't been caught up to speed on that.

Call me an old fogey, but I can only think of very few things a kid that age needs a cell-phone for.

1) When I need to find you.
2) When you need to find me.
3) If there's trouble.

Texting? Lrn 2 wrte lttrs n use a stmp. Photos? Bite me. Get them a basic phone.

Waste money on the bells and whistles? There will be videos on Youtube of your genius sprogling either drowning the neighbor's poodle or burning his asshairs while he and his friends light their farts. Don't whine.

You asked for it.

WTF?
_________________________

Next on the list is this poor guy in the UK.

He has an allotment (which is kind of foreign to us in the U.S.) that he uses to grow vegetables. It's like a community garden, except that he leases a space to grow his own.

Anyhoo, Bill Malcolm has been targeted by thieves 3 times in the last 4 months. They've broken into his shed, stolen his tools and ransacked his garden.

So he put up a 3-foot barbed-wire fence to try to protect his work, and to deter those who are intent on mischief.

His district council has ordered him to remove the fence, lest would-be thieves or vandals "scratch themselves on it and sue".

WTF?
____________________________

Why would someone steal 15 newspaper vending machines? Why not just break into them? Those machines are huge. And what would be the return? If on a weekday they hold say---100 papers---at 50 cents a holler, how efficient is that? Then again, being a coupon shopper, if they all held Sunday papers at a buck a shot plus coupons, maybe it's more lucrative.

I don't think this thief thought it all the way through. He brought all the machines (looted them of quarters and papers) and left them in a motel room he rented with his own real name. Doh!

And WTF?
______________________________


Thanks all for your kind and caring comments and emails. Still recovering, but had some serious issues that needed to be taken care of regarding Little Guy's transitional placement for the year. Had to pull out the killer bunny slippers again, scrape the rust off the Attila armor, open my rolodex (yes, that archaic old thing), and break my foot off in a couple of asses.

Didn't want to share anything about it here, simply because for the most part we've had a great experience in this school district with Little Guy and things didn't start going to hell in a handbasket until late last spring. We were hoping that things would shape up this fall, but it simply didn't happen on its own.

I've been in a major funk about it for the last few weeks along with the physical problems.

Glad to say that between Hubby (reasonably explaining that although the majority of the team that met for the Little Guy's IEP last spring no longer worked for the district and how we had agreed to adjourn it until this fall so that we could figure out what vocational training opportunities were available and what his schedule would look like) and I ("Do you think we made this adjournment up? Do you think we would agree to a year of lessons on how to do laundry, load the dishwasher and other crap he's been doing on his own for the last 5 years?" or "What does any of this have to do with training him for a vocation? Don't make me tear your head off and shit down your neck, because ninjas don't have nothing on me!") we got the job done.

Isn't that the longest sentence you've ever read? ;-)

Anyways, it's all good. We had our ducks in a row (Colorado Department of Education and the school superintendent on board) before the meeting, and it turns out it was just more of a miscommunication problem with the changing of staff then anything else.

It's a load off my mind.

Still, WTF?

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad World, or Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

Big ol' list here...What the hell is in the water???? I mean, seriously??

_______________

Ok, two years ago You let your 14-year-old child who had Cerebral Palsy suffer from maggots in her bedsores, and starved her to death. Now you're suing the city of Philadelphia for a gazillion dollars in damages on behalf of your other children because they've been "traumatized" by her death?

The basis? Because the city should have *known* you were unfit parents.

And your oldest, who is 19, has a separate suit that seeks another gazillion because her death caused him "substantial mental pain".

2 years ago, this parasite would have been 17. Like he couldn't have seen she was suffering and starving and said something to somebody--neighbor, teacher, stranger on the street. Where was HIS compassion in the midst of HER pain?

Sheesh! What in the hell is wrong with you people? And your lawyers?

______________

Not excusing this guy for being a criminal, but hey, when the heck does the stupid end?

Guy is arrested for holding a woman down and masturbating on her. Yeck.

Bails out and is issued a "no contact" order.

She comes to HIS house. He calls the police to have her removed.

And is arrested for violating the "no contact order". The judge tells him "it was his responsibility to not have contact with the alleged victim."

Huh?

_________________

In a Michigan nursing home, a patient died and three employees were instructed to prepare her body for pick-up by the funeral home. Before doing this, they "posed" her corpse and took pictures with their cell phones. Other employees witnessed this outrage, and informed management.

After a hearing by the company, the three employees were fired and reported, but the County Health Department couldn't find enough evidence to prove that they violated any public health code.

Criminal charges were filed, but ultimately the Michigan Appellate court found that because the woman was dead, she could no longer be considered a patient, so the statute of "physically mistreating a patient" no longer applied.

So these three dirtbags walked out with their nursing credentials intact.

Oh, and the nursing home---which followed all the correct procedures as soon as it was made aware of this employee misconduct---was cited for violating a patient's dignity.

WTF?

_______________


Finally---and this obit was taken down today along with the guest book---but thank goodness for Google cache....

The old saying "never speak ill of the dead" is finally dead.

Read here. Gak. (well pooh, the link doesn't work anymore---read below)

That leaves me with a couple of options.

Either I should write my own obit and instruct my attorney to send it out at my demise, or I better start sucking up to my kids.

Then again, this woman might have truly been evil. eek.

Sad and scary that this is her legacy:

"Dolores had no hobbies, made no contribution to society and rarely shared a kind word or deed in her life. I speak for the majority of her family when I say her presence will not be missed by many, very few tears will be shed and there will be no lamenting over her passing.

Her family will remember Dolores and amongst ourselves we will remember her in our own way, which were mostly sad and troubling times throughout the years. We may have some fond memories of her and perhaps we will think of those times too. But I truly believe at the end of the day ALL of us will really only miss what we never had, a good and kind mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. I hope she is finally at peace with herself. As for the rest of us left behind, I hope this is the beginning of a time of healing and learning to be a family again.

There will be no service, no prayers and no closure for the family she spent a lifetime tearing apart. We cannot come together in the end to see to it that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren can say their goodbyes. So I say here for all of us, GOOD BYE, MOM."

Sometimes You Just Got to Say....

This is the last week of school for Big Kid and I, and thankfully, my term paper is FINALLY DONE!! Big Kid has some things to wrap up, but he is on his own for that one. I'm done! Yippee!

And man, am I ready for a vacation.

From Doods. My Doods. I want to find some girls and go on a Dood-free weekend road trip full of drinking and debauchery and laughter.

But there's still too much to do. Maybe next month.

::sigh::

So I'll just pretend all my girlfriends are here and we're dishing (sorry guys).

Why can't I have one freaking thing to myself? One thing, I mean just one---that at no point has had somebody else's grubby fingers all over it? Other than tampons, I mean.

Let's talk about food, for instance.

Now mind you, I am not forcing anyone to diet, I'm not starving anyone, and we have a mighty full larder. I provide 3 squares and ample snacks. And I'm not talking about Little Guy, because amazingly enough, the kid asks first before he even pours himself a glass of milk. Then he offers to pour one for everybody else.

It's the other two galoots I'm bitching about.

For Christmas, a friend sent me a boxed set of specialty cocoas in tins. There were three 20 oz tins. I stored them on the coffee shelf in the pantry, and specifically told everyone "hands off".

A couple months later, we ran out of regular cocoa, and it was a snowy day. The guys were begging for a hot cuppa, so I broke open the boxed set and one of the tins and made them each a cup of cocoa. Then I put it all back in the box and replaced it on the shelf.

Not TWO WEEKS later, I was rearranging some things and moved the box. It felt awfully light.

All three of the tins were empty. And replaced back in the box so it wouldn't be noticed right away.

After a survey of the family counting the number of people who enjoyed MY gift of cocoa in the previous 2 weeks?

Little Guy: 1 cup
Me: None
Hubby: None
Big Kid: Why's everybody looking at me? The dogs know how to heat water in the microwave too, you know!

There were two days of ass-kicking going on in the Attila house.

You would think after the raisin incident (where Big Kid consumed 2 pounds of raisins meant for holiday baking in one night and thought aliens were laying eggs in his digestive tract when he crapped out a bunch of undigested gray rehydrated butt chunks the next morning) he would have learned his lesson.

Not MY boy! Hmph.

My hubby is almost as bad. His excuse? "I had a golfball lodged in my throat/anal fissures/toe fungus/pick your ailment, and the ONLY thing that would make me feel better was that special thing that you had hidden for yourself under the 12 pounds of cast iron and copper pots in that far cabinet where you store the pans you only use once every two years."

Ok, that's sort of an exaggeration. But seriously, the real story is just as heinous.

For example: When I make up a grocery list, I look at the sales and ask the guys what kind of cookies/ice cream/pudding/whatever dessert they want. They let me know what they want and it always involves chocolate.

Not too long ago, Snack-Pack pudding was on sale, and I had a ton of coupons. So I picked up about a dozen packages of what they unanimously asked for. Milk chocolate pudding. Dark chocolate pudding. Chocolate and caramel pudding. Mississippi Mud Pie pudding. Something for all of them. I also got ONE Snack-Pack (4 cups to a package) of tapioca pudding for myself.

Hey, it's my kind of comfort food. I'm not going to apologize. I totally pass over any chocolate dessert for a piece of fruit, but once in awhile a little tapioca goes a long way. I hid it on the second shelf on the right side of the fridge, and buried it under the dregs of a bag of wilted pre-packaged salad, a half-filled bag of baby carrots (which everybody but me hates), and put a jar of dill relish and like 6 packages of chocolate snack packs in front of it.

The very next morning (usually I get up at around 5am) I opened the fridge to get coffee creamer and noticed that everything had been messed around with on that particular shelf. I moved the chocolate snack packs, and the relish, and the wilted salad, and the half bag of baby carrots.

Underneath there was one little tapioca container left, lonely and bereft amongst all the packaging.

When Hubby got up, I confronted him. "Did you eat my tapioca pudding in the middle of the night?"

He was indignant. I had an upset stomach so I ate "some" to settle it!

Some? 3 out of 4 pudding cups is "some"? When does it become "most"? After they're ALL gone?

And um yeah. Everybody and their mother knows that sugar, fat and lactose is the BEST way to settle an upset stomach. Silly me. The Pepto is front and center on the medicine shelf, next to the Tums. You really had to dig for this particular remedy, though, didn't you?

Both guys wait until I'm asleep to go rooting around in the cupboards in the middle of the night. It doesn't matter what is just sitting there in front of their faces. Like cookies, pudding, chips, or ice cream (in the freezer). If it's something that takes an effort to find, or an ingredient I bought for something I have to make the next day for a meeting, a conference, a school party...well then it's a prize!

Is it some kind of leftover caveman instinct where they have to hunt to get it? Is snitching a mini-bag of slivered macadamia nuts now the equivalent of bagging a mastadon for the family table?

I'm simply amazed...really AMAZED that the two of these Doods haven't yet bumped into each other in the dark---one scarfing down Betty Crocker frosting with his fingers and the other stuffing his face out of a container of Philly Cheese pre-made Cheesecake filling. Seriously---it's like they take shifts!

And it gets gross.

When I make a dinner that has nuggety stuff (chicken nuggets, jalapeno nuggets, cheese sticks, etc,) I have to make sure that everything is perfectly proportioned and if someone isn't there to eat their share at that exact moment, it gets wrapped up. Otherwise, there are a couple of guys who meander through the kitchen ostensibly to "put their glass in the dishwasher--ha", or "throw away their napkin---ha" who think that whoever didn't get their meal at that exact moment won't notice that their original equally proportioned six chicken fingers have been reduced to two.

On that thought, last month, I had just warmed up a small plate of BBQ pork that I hadn't finished from my dinner from the night before. I backed up, almost stepped on the little dog, and spilled about 80% of it on the floor. Scooped the pork up and put it back on the plate. It was coated with grody kitchen floor detritus and dog hair. I stuck the plate on the counter, was wiping the floor (nothing like getting sauce tracked through the house), and somebody knocked at the door.

UPS guy. I signed for the package, opened it, dealt with it, and ended up grabbing an orange before running downstairs to my office to take care of a couple of things. Totally forgot about the plate with the dirty pork.

Came upstairs and saw the plate sitting there, but it was empty. WTF? Called Big Kid, and demanded to know where it had gone. Since there was only the two of us in the house.

Did you eat my lunch? (not like I was actually going to eat it myself---with all the hair and crap stuck to it I was going to toss it, but I was baffled and pissed off by the audacity).

He pretended to be shamefaced. "It looked so good I couldn't help myself". Uh huh.

Did you even look at it before you ate it? No he hadn't. All he saw was something he wanted and inhaled it. As if it had been prepared especially for him. Didn't even notice that it had a fur and oatmeal crumb coating.

blech.

A few weeks ago, I had coupons for Tyson's ready made strips that you can find in the lunch meat aisle. The store had a 50% sale on Tyson stuff, so I got a bunch of bags of pre-cooked and seasoned chicken and steak for about a dollar a holler.

I showed them to all of the guys specifically and said---"I've got meal plans for these. They are NOT FOR SNACKING!"

The next night, I was making the fixings for steak fajitas and opened one of the packages of steak strips. It had a bad, sort of fruity, and fermented smell---kind of what I'd imagine a corpse that had been in the water for a week would smell like. The expiration date was two months ahead, so I figured I'd take it back to the store for a replacement. Sealed it back up, stuck the bag in the back of the fridge, and used the rest, which was fine.

I was going to the store a couple of days later, and dug the bag out. It was almost empty. eek! I confronted Big Kid and he swore he hadn't touched it.

I called Hubby at the office.

"Did you eat the steak strips from that bag in the back of the fridge?"

Busted! Again, he was defensive. I had an uncontrollable tickle in the back of my throat and I needed to eat a couple of pieces of steak to take care of it!

A couple of pieces? The bag was practically empty.

"Did you SMELL it before you ate it??? What in the hell is WRONG with you?"

It smelled kind of funny, but I thought it was the special seasoning!

Oy.

I swear, I could take a half a cup of moist dog food, hock a loogie on it, cover it with chocolate sprinkles, wrap it up and hide in the back of the fridge, and it would be gone by morning.

Just because it is something they have to hunt for.

WTF is wrong with Doods?

Gahhhhhh!!!!

"For Mr Deaves the sexual relationship was 'absolutely fantastic'."

Somebody be like Moe and poke my eyeballs out.

Please.

I beg you.

Please.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say....

You know, sometimes you really gotta say it, even if it's just for yourself.

Last week Hubby went back east to spend some time with his mom. Luckily, he didn't schedule construction projects to be done on the house while he was gone (like he's done in the past), so I didn't have to deal with weird things like walking past the kitchen window and viewing acres of ass-crack.

But true to form, the Baddogs were at it again, this time I think protesting the absence of their mollycoddling Daddy. Charlie, the mutant 13-pound yorkie got her face and body into some kind of plant that disperses seeds in nasty little spikes. Her entire face and front end looked like a hedgehog's butt. Pulling those hitchhikers out were as unpleasant for her as they were for us, because, dammit, those things are sharp! Big Kid, Little Guy and I had to take turns holding her (two of us at a time), calming her, while the other ripped those suckers out. With hair.

You know, I can deal with a lot of things. Blood, yeah, kinda, as long as it's liquid and not in clotted chunks. Poop, well heck---I changed diapers for almost 8 straight years between the two kids, so I can deal with doody.

Snot that comes out of a face bigger than a 2-year-old's?---nope.

Puke---well forget that too. Nada. Not touching it. My guys aren't little toddlers. If they can't make it to the toilet, then the puker can be the cleaner-upper. I mean, they're already sick. Why make ME sick while cleaning up THEIR barf?

If the puker happens to be one of the big dogs, well then, that's Daddy's job. They're HIS dogs. I'll clean up after MY little dog, and it helps that she's only 3 pounds. Her puke spans like a tablespoon. ;-)

So when the Noodle (the big dog I showed you a few weeks ago with the anti-skunkinizer crapball over her) came in the second night after Daddy went out of town, and puked in her crate, well it was a double dilemma.

She actually puked whole turds. Yep, that's right. Apparently she followed the little dogs around and gobbled up a hot snack without chewing. I can deal with turds. But puke-turds? Geezus.

Hubby owes me BIG TIME. And I will collect. With interest.

I told you guys about a 3-hour law class I have where it's all lecture. 3 tests, 1 research project for the entire semester, no notes allowed during the exams, etc. The teacher digresses a lot, so it's hard to tell exactly what notes should be taken. You will only do as well as the notes you take and selectively memorize. I also complained about a fellow student (who I called Ms. Bigmouth) who just won't shut up and annoys the hell out of me.

I know way more about her now than I know about my next door neighbors, and I'm not kidding. She has to insert her personal dramas into everything that has nothing to do with this class.

[ok, I'm snipping this part here. On reflection, I was a bit more mean-spirited than I should have been].

Judge Judy is the boss, Applesauce. Ms. Bigmouth has some "friend" that quotes her things, except either her "friend" is a complete dumbass or she can't exactly remember what the "friend" said. Doesn't stop her from quoting said "friend" though. Very frequently.

"The wheels of truth grind slowly but they grind very small." Hmph. If you're pompous enough to quote Chaucer, you should at least get it partially right.

And isn't it pretentious of me to point out that the original quote is from Chaucer? snerk. ;-)

Since Hubby was gone last week, I skipped this class simply because I didn't have anyone to leave Little Guy with (Big Kid was out of the question) and I didn't feel comfortable letting him stay in the student lounge. The class is at night, there is minimal security and students, he's just too friendly and too many bad things could happen. I had a classmate tape the class for me on my recorder.

So I'm sitting at the breakfast bar with the headphones on and transcribing my notes, when I realize that my buddy who recorded the class sat right next to "Ms. Bigmouth". Oy. I thought it was bad enough sitting a row or two behind her. Now I got to hear every adoring sigh and indignant grunt up close and personal.

Thank God she didn't rip ass, or I would have heard it in stereo.

There was a note on the envelope from the recording classmate that said that my recorder was "full" and missed the last 30 minutes of the class.

As I'm listening, I learn in detail that Ms. Bigmouth's [more snippage of unneccesary meanness on my part]

Then later I get to hear a 10-minute exchange where she confuses "due process" with "a right to a speedy trial" and she and the professor (who is trying to correct her misconceptions and doesn't quite know what the hell she is getting at because he doesn't live his life watching Law & Order reruns) go back and forth because what she really means with her blabber about "due process" is really a defendant's right to "a speedy trial", and he's saying that everyone deserves "due process" and he's heard of civil trials that have lasted over 15 years, and she keeps bleating, "isn't that unconstitutional?"

Of course, I got what she was meaning to say within the first minute or two of the exchange. I watch Law & Order too, but I guess I understand it better. I bet other students who were actually in the room did too, but didn't step in.

At this point, bent over my notes and wearing my headphones,(thinking I'm alone) I shout, "Why don't you just shut the f*ck up already???? I'm so sick and tired of listening to your crap!"

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and it's Big Kid, and I push down the headphones. He looks scared.

"Mom, I'm sorry! I just asked if I could have a soda!"

Gak!

Ok, I have to say this, because it's like the ultimate in irony.

In class a couple of days ago, we got our first test results back, and we were going over the answers with the professor. I sweated over this in a HUGE way, but I did well, which was a big relief.

A student who has only actually been in the class maybe 4 times out of the last 8 came in, and the professor asked her if she took the test so that he could hand it back to her. She said no, didn't he get her phone call saying she couldn't make it? So he gave her the test and told her she could take it outside. We got through the class and were let out pretty early, and as we all walked out, we saw that the late-test student was taking the test with all the books and hand-outs spread out around her as she was looking up the answers.

On one hand, you will totally get that every single freaking thing Ms. Bigmouth has wasted class time over blabbering about her personal crap has nothing to do with the class topic, when I tell you it's "legal ethics". On the other, a bunch of us students got together at the stairwell and said, "OMG! Did you see that the test-taker was using the book and handouts?"

So since the class is in "legal ethics" should we report her? I mean, none of US got to use our notes or references, and it was a pretty freaking hard test. Then again, should we show solidarity to a fellow student? Maybe she had good reasons for all of her absences.

On a final note, we had the Grand Opening of our new office today. There was a huge turn-out, which was really nice. I mentioned that we bought a building in another mountain town a couple of months ago, and this has been taking up a big part of my time in the last couple of months with the renovation and other details.

I'll post some before and after pics soon.

I promise that I'm working on catching up with all of you! I'll get there at some point!

xoxo

Attila the Mom and the Panties of Fire

Blog-friend digi-birder found a really funny
story the other day that I haven't been able to get out of my mind.

You know me. Something starts rattling around in the old black hole I call my brain and it's hard to let go of.

'According to UK tabloid the Sun, a 33-year-old Welsh housewife ended up in hospital after wearing Ann Summers vibrating Passion Pants to her local Asda supermarket in Swansea.

Unfortunately, she became "so aroused by the 2½-inch vibrating bullet inside that she fainted" then "fell against shelves and banged her head". This prompted the attendance of the paramedics who "found the black leatherette panties still buzzing".'

There is so much wrong with this that I just don't know where to start.

How about the obvious...

WTF???

Now that's out of the way, and I can start asking questions. Inquiring minds, and all.

First of all, I'm not a prude, and don't have any judgements about how people get their jollies as long as it isn't harmful, abusive or disrespectful of others and doesn't involve children or animals.

There are quite a few things that make me feel sexy and get me in the mood. Perfumed bath oil. Candles and wine. Lady Love by Lou Rawls. The muffled thumping of my sons who are duct-taped and locked in the hall closet.

But the grocery store?

Not so much.

I don't get it. What's the turn-on? Standing next to an old guy who's buying bunion cream?

Oooh. Aaah. Oooh. Aaa---

Sorry. Not doing it for me.

Fighting my way past the humongous race-car carts full of somebody else's screaming sproggin?

That actually makes me want rip out my OWN fallopian tubes.

Is the canned-goods aisle sexy? Is there something more to Tuna Helper that I'm missing?

What about the produce section? Boy those eggplants are looking mighty naughty today! I better strip those ears of corn down and see what's underneath! I ought to give those melons a squeeze!

Eh---no.

And I don't know about you other ladies, but after an extended round or two of playing hide the salami, my girly parts feel pretty damn sensitive. As in, "If you're looking for round three, Bucko, go play with your golf clubs. There's 18 holes out there somewhere just begging for your attention!"

Well, Hubby and I are getting older, so that hasn't happened in awhile, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, it begs the question...

How do you turn the damn Passion Panties off if you're out and about and it gets to be too much? Is there a remote control? Do you have to actually reach down inside your pants and flip a switch?

Or does it have a clap feature? You know---clap on, clap off. A clapper for your snapper!

I have to say that I find the whole notion a little disturbing.

I can't imagine what I'd do if I was standing in line at the deli counter and some lady next to me was eyeballing the kielbasa and buzzing like an electric toothbrush.

What will they think of next?

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say....

I was perusing Drugstore.com the other day looking for replacement brush heads for my Sonicare toothbrush.

Me, being the frugal shopper that I am, browsed around to see if there was anything else I couldn't "live without" that would push my purchase price into the free shipping category.

I hate to pay for shipping if I don't have to.

I quickly flipped through a page in the "health" section and a big red "Whhaaaa?" lit up in my head.

So I went back.

To a product that is called the "Myself Pelvic Muscle Trainer".

Huh?

A personal PELVIC muscle trainer?

Is it something like a Thighmaster?

No.

Apparently the "Myself" is a "clinically-proven kegel exercise trainer for resolving incontinence, increasing vaginal tone, and enhancing intimacy."

Although I'm pretty sure that every woman in the stratosphere already knows what Kegel exercises are, I'm operating under the assumption that there might be a couple of manly lurkers who haven't run away screaming yet.

Kegel exercises are designed for women to strengthen their pelvic floors. In other words, they basically work the same set of muscles that control the flow of pee.

Traditionally in the past, women's magazines and the Total Woman Handbook (foisted on us at puberty by the period-fairy along with perfumed douches, a secret handshake and a "welcome to the club" speech which included a gift basket full of embarrassment in regards to our natural bodily functions) brought us information about Kegels.

They made it seem as if it was practically a womanly duty to perform these exercises routinely as a way to keep our future men satisfied. If we didn't, they'd go running off to the Caymans at age 45 with a bimbette named Tammi, her thong, and the kids' college funds.

That was before Lorena Bobbitt brought a whole new dimension to the playing field, but I'm digressing.

The beauty of Kegels is that this workout can be performed any where, any time, and doesn't require any equipment, like dumbbells (you can leave him at home) or knee pads (sorry, Monica!).

Squinch and release. Squinch and release.

Theoretically, if you do this every day, ultimately you'll have a crotch of steel.

It's like a secret Superpower just for women.

Women can do Kegels while we're driving the Hummer (getting our girl on!) or watching TV. We can do them on the sidelines at soccer games or while singing in the choir.

We can even do them at business meetings.

Next time a man is chairing a meeting and being particularly pompous, patriarchal or pedantic (believe me, some of those dinosours are still around), look at the women in the room.

If they appear to be especially serene (not bored or irritated) they're probably thinking, "Yeah, Buddy. One flex and I could rip your dick off."

That's why I'm wondering-why-oh-why-somebody came up with a gadget when none is really required? And what exactly does it do?

Evidently, the "Myself" measures how strong your vaginal squeeze is.

Yes. You heard it right.

"How does it do that?" you might ask.

You have to stick an inflatable (and disposable---you can buy replacements for 9.99) sensor UP INTO YOUR GIRLY PARTS to measure your strength when you squinch! Then the information goes from the sensor to a handheld monitor which shows you your crotchety progress with a smiley face or something like that.

Yikes! And well, YIKES!

How about a big honking WTF for good measure?!!

On top of the revolting squickiness, this gadget kind of reminds me of a BowLingual---the dog language translator that was a popular gift item a few years ago.

You stick a sensor on your dog's collar, and when she barks, it translates on a little monitor with emoticon faces that say everything from "I'm Needy!" to "Feed me, Bitch!"

The "Myself" tells you WHEN to squinch and release. As if your squinch timing is a precise, complicated, scientific calculation. Doh!

Additionally, it trains you through 3 different strength levels.

But what KIND of strength levels? And what kind of faces does it display to mark your progress?

Inquiring minds and all...

Level 1: Wet dishrag (big sad frowny with a teardrop face)
Level 2: Cracking Walnuts (lavicious eye wink face)
Level 3: Breaking Brass Bolts* (your choice of Gene Simmons, Colin Ferrell or generic Himbo screaming in agony face)

Seriously, this must be some kind of joke---a way to "squeeze" out 79+ bucks on a Superpower any woman can develop for free. Pun intended.

Why buy a "Myself" for something I can do...well...by myself?

Anybody else see the irony in that?

Somewhere the person behind this is laughing maniacally all the way to the bank.

*With Apologies to The Fugs

Sometimes You've Just Got to Say....

What a crazy week it's been! Since we're out of school, the doc has decided to try the Big Kid on some non-stimulant meds for his ADHD---didn't want to destablize him during finals week. While the Adderall had been helping with focus, it could only be used sparingly because it's been inducing manic episodes. The problem with adjusting to these new meds is the possibility of panic attacks. Oh joy.

Big Kid is going to be starting driving lessons again next week, so he needs to be focused all the time.

Last weekend Little Guy had a bit of a cold. Then Big Kid caught it. Of course, true to form, his affliction couldn't just stay a nasty cold. It had to get bigger and badder. He got a hellacious case of bronchitis, which required nebulizer treatments at the doc's office and an inhaler.

So he comes running into the living room yesterday. "GAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Full blown panic attack.

What's wrong?

"I think I coughed out a piece of my lung!!"

What? Oh my God! Where is it?

I tried to figure out if we should call 911 or wait 35 minutes for the doctor's office to come back from lunch (isn't it sad how well I know their schedule?).

"I flushed it down the toilet! I didn't want to gross you out!"

Then how in the world are we going to figure out what it is?

"It was reddish brown!"

I looked him over carefully. He certainly seemed to be breathing ok. He definitely didn't have any problem in the hollering department. Blood wasn't spurting out of any orifice. And what was that? A suspicious reddish brown smear on the side of his mouth?

Did you just eat lunch? What did you have?

"Barbeque Chicken."

Oy.

In order to escape this mad, mad world, I was able to get some time on the computer this week. But as the week has progressed, all I can say is WTF?

Is it spring fever? Has the world gone wild?

In THE PAST WEEK ALONE....

Electrical Tools Gone Wild:

One guy stabbed his father to death and then cut off his own head with a chainsaw. Another guy cut off his mother's head with a circular saw, and attempted to cut his own off as well.

He didn't quite get the entire sucker off, but he's just as dead. He didn't win the stuffed penguin, though.

Did a new video game come out that I haven't heard of yet?

For Hubby's Saturday "Honey-Do" List: Put all electrical cutty things under lock and key. Swallow the freaking key.

Personal Responsibility Gone Wild:

In Nova Scotia, the law says Casino staff are supposed to spot betting addicts. I'll bet you five dollars that's not gonna work.

This reporter thinks that we should blame restaurants for obesity, because their portions are too large. Yeah, as if your waiter ties you down and stuffs the blooming onion, nachos deluxe and chicken fried steak dinner down your throat like you're a Thanksgiving turkey.

When you get a parking ticket, pay it or fight it out in court. Don't send the payment attached to a dog turd. Especially if you're too stupid to remember that your name and address are on the citation.

If you get "slain by the spirit" in church, maybe God is trying to tell you something. And no, I don't think He's telling you to sue Him for damages.

PMS Gone Wild:

If your wife blindfolds you and leads you into the basement for a "surprise", don't be a typical guy and think it's a blow-job or new fooseball table. Run like hell.

Skanky Heiresses Gone Wi---no Scratch That. Still Skanky:

Our favorite Bimbo Paris Hilton asked fans on her MySpace page to sign a petition asking Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to pardon her and overturn her sentence for her recent misdeeds.

Governor's office laughs---not because all 36 fans signed it---but because of the 1, 345, 987 signatures sent in begging him to extend her stay in the poky.

Some even offered sentencing expansions in creative ways. "Make the bitch eat cheeseburgers three times a day!", "What's 45 days going to do to her bleach-job? Show us the roots!" and "Make her wear the polyester jumpsuit!"

Unfortunately the governor had to reject these ideas because they constitute cruel and unusual punishment.

Teachers Gone----Freaking Insane!!!

Sorry, my friend, Mrs. Mayhem. I'm not trying to give you a complex. I know there are great teachers out there, but this really takes the cake.

In the past seven days, it has been reported:

A married 42-year old teacher sends love notes to a 12-year-old student and calls him at home. “I want you to be with me. I know that we are both with someone else, but that’s going to change one day."

Then she said that God forgives her, so everybody else should too. She's ready to move on with her life.

I want me some of those drugs!

This teacher has reached a plea agreement for having an affair with a 14-year-old student and running off with him to Mexico.

This teacher has been arrested for having sexual relations with a student (although the student is 17).

Another teacher has been charged with sexually assaulting two of his 9th grade students and was even dumb enough to post about his exploits on Facebook. I don't know what horrifies me more---that he was doinking his students or that he got a teaching certificate.

And last but not least, I guess we should be grateful that this teacher didn't get the "Mrs. Robinson Itchy Panty bug". She just hosted booze parties in her home for her students.

WTF is wrong with people?