Criss Angel/Drinking coffee out of Styrofoam/That creepy guy from Mythbusters/Newspapers that bleed on to your hands/Hypochondriacs/Goat cheese/Cheap licorice/skorts/censorship/paper cuts/stupid people/weak coffee/people who leave their dogs in hot cars/Dictators/GW Bush & Cheney/pantyhose/stinky feet/apathy/pulpy juice/fat people in low rise jeans and short shirts/spandex/TV golf/golf in general/those stupid subscription cards in magazines/warm beer/anything fake pineapple or apple scented/puking/litter boxes/cold sores/people being “trendy”/pap smears/bad bras/bad breath/pens that leak/homophobia/cancer/tight shoes/mosquitoes/Nancy Grace/Oprah/liars/doughy pie crust/wanna be “gangstas”/rap/people who don’t pick up their dog’s shit/chamomile tea/pimples/that white stringy shit between the orange & the peel/government web sites/close talkers/strangers who share way too much personal info in random and often inappropriate situations/skittles/the guy in the stupid shorts and tie from ACDC- get over it already/romance novels/prop 8/war/inequality/drinking beer out of cans/mayo/cheap crayons/tilted baseball caps/puppy mills/cheap ice cream/pretentious people/today’s lower standards (for everything)/the bailout/orange scented hand sanitizer/people who never shut up but have nothing to say/ad hominem attacks/unwrapped toothpicks/scotch mints/snot/Kim jong il/hang nails/dry skin/bad attitudes/creepy moustaches/candy canes/clowns/team mascots/people who don’t like animals/the colour purple (the actual colour, not the play)/ walnuts/excuses/alarm clocks/beauty pageants/Whiners………

Wait- Is this considered whining?

The end.

Leanne- “Does it smell like mushrooms in here? Why do I smell mushrooms?”

Karen- “Your having a stroke.”

Leanne- “No, that’s burned toast.”

Me- “No, that’s a seizure.”

Karen- “You’re definitely having a stroke.”

Steve & I watched 2 flicks this weekend that both belong on the MUST SEE list.

First is . Once. I cannot say enough about this tiny inexpensive indy film that kicked Hollywoods ass with less than $100,000. and a couple of handy cams. It’s beautiful, it’s tender and it’s weird. Just the way I like it. I was mesmerized through its entierty and fell in love with every quirky (but not cheesy) momment. SEE IT!!! PLEASE!

Number 2 was One Week It’s a great movie about a man driving across Canada on a motorbike after finding out he has stage 4 cancer. It’s a Canadian movie that resists the temptation to be overly sappy and sad or to have Paul Gross pop out every now & then. The dialogue and scenery are both breathtaking. SEE IT!

I have now officially lost my guest post virginity and who better to lose it to than TK over at Pigtails Flying? Her’s is a running blog. Yes, you heard that correctly. I, chain smoking Olympic hopeful, have done a guest post for TK, a fabulous smart ass New York marathon runner. And I mean real marathons- Lance Armstrong kinda shit. Except he rides a bike right? Whatever. She does stuff that I only dream about while lounging in the backyard chugging beer and lighting one smoke off of the last one. She kicks some serious ass so go on over & check it out here.

I fucking love this one. (Thanks TK! You know me well!) If you haven’t already seen it- you won’t believe it’s true….. After returning from vacation in Egypt a Polish woman was shocked to discover that her 13 year old was knocked up. That she had slipped away in the evenings and gotten a little hot & heavy with a penis wielding boy was apparently unfathomable, so she had obviously gotten preggers via other methods.

Like swimming. In what she refers to as a “mixed pool.”

She is now suing the hotel for compensation, and as wacko as it already sounds, my question is this; How did the pool break her hymen? Or is there a dude ranch out there somewhere that’s about to be dragged into court?

(Of course, imagine if it were true? This woman from Poland just single handedly bankrupted the worlds previously profitable sperm banks.)

On a similarly bizarre note; my mother was raised to believe that if you were running in the dark and bumped into a pole (flag, tetherball, or otherwise) you would immediately become pregnant.

Yeah, I know. Don’t ask.

I don’t care what the critics said, Obama’s joke at the radio & TV correspondents dinner last month about Schwarzenegger being on “I’m a Celebrity, Get me Outta Here!” to help the cash strapped California was fucking hilarious. Considering the sates precarious financial situation, maybe it will come to fruition because it seriously seems like everyone is boarding the shitty reality TV train.

Shows like “I’m a Celebrity…” are where z-listers go to die. On camera.

This cringe inducing trend of craptastic shows has spawned a whole new job pool for those actors/singers/famous just because I’m pretty people that we had completely forgotten existed. When you think about it- it’s pretty fucking clever- though unbelievably embarrassing. Agent not calling you anymore? Ring up spike or MTV or TLC and sell your soul to their latest train wreck. MC Hammer has a show. MC fucking Hammer! Scott Baio, Brett Michaels, Flava Flav, Danny Bonaduce, and the list goes on and on and on, down through the depths of a cauldron of bile and quivering pinkish body fluids.

Did they really think that this would be something lucrative? A sound business move? A reputation building venture? How are they not suicidally embarrassed by their fame whore aging self trying to look relevant and cool? Presumably they have no real friends because if they did, why the hell didn’t they lock them in a basement somewhere until the lure of publicly humiliating themselves had passed? If that were me and I tried to pull that shit, Susin would have me committed right after she slapped the stupid out of me for even considering it.

Seriously, who thinks this shit up? (better yet- who the hell watches it?)

I just dropped little Lucy off at the vet this morning. There’s nothing like a good “rip your heart outta your fucking chest” moment with your morning coffee- it really gets the day going! See kids, that’s the kind of fun you can have at my house…… I will rescue you from a horrific circumstance, let you start to get all comfortable and feeling like you are finally loved, and safe. Then I will take you to a weird building, leave you there, and let them rip out a few teeth and your uterus. They wrote a book about me once. It was called “Mommy Dearest.”

I couldn’t, of course, feed her breakfast this morning pre-surgery, and I swear she looked up at me and said; “But I’ve gotten it every morning since I’ve been here. Don’t you love me anymore?” As I snuggled her and tried to explain that it’s for her own good, I heard her whisper “I knew it was too fucking good to be true.” Even Maggi was a little pissed at me when I left her behind. “Why the fuck does she get to go?”

Yes, that is correct, my dogs talk in my tilted and slightly pickled little world. Yours don’t? Wow, you got ripped off. (But try to get one that doesn’t swear as much as mine- it’s kind of embarrassing at parks and such.)

I will pick the wee one up after work and hope that she still likes me and doesn’t assume that this is what happens every week at our house. I can just see her shuddering on her dog bed thinking “What’s next? A leg? An ear? Fuck, I’m already missing an eye, and now some teeth and my babybaker, what the hell else do you psychos want?”

In a display of never before seen restraint, I will not call the vet every 7 minutes to she how she’s doing. I won’t demand to talk to her and wail “I’m sorry baby” through the phone to my unconscious dog. I won’t. (Just out of curiosity, does having my receptionist Karen call them repeatedly still count as obnoxious?) The upside of all of this is that she will no longer be stuck with affectionate pet names like “rotten mouth” “death breath” or “stinky face.” At least, I hope she won’t be. That’s worse than being named “Apple”.

**Update**

Lucy is resting comfortably, sans uterus, 6 teeth and a bucket load of built up, tarter and rot, and crap in her little mouth. (I wonder if she weighs less than 4lbs now?) Looks like the bill is only going to be about $750.00 which is almost $100 less than expected. I will spend that extra on booze. You know, in celebration and all…….

I get that he was a globally famous performer/artist/freakshow, and yes, I understand that millions of people worldwide are devastated by his death and it is certainly sad that he had children who are about to be thrown into the vicious custody battle that appears to be brewing…… Upon hear of the death of Michael Jackson, I was fully aware that the media coverage would be seconded only by the death of Princess Di and that it would run on endlessly.

I thought I was prepared for this, I really did. However, I have to say, enough is e-fucking-nough people! This mornings news consisted of two pseudo “anchors” sitting around musing as to how the performers at the funeral were chosen.

THIS IS NOT NEWS! The only things missing were a couple of shitty stained bathrobes, some slippers and a squalling baby in the back. If there is something to report- some new fact- by all means, report away. The shit that I watched this morning on a ‘News” program should have been a random conversation in someones fucking LIVING ROOM!