Literally no plans

Today I want to say  “it’s a great day to be alive,”  because those are literally my only plans. Other than to bore you with another "blog post". 

I wanted to drop my Sheltie, Kesä, off at Petsmart to be groomed and they wanted to keep her for 6 hours. Seriously,  6 hours? My first thought was "Why the hell didn't children’s haircuts work this way back when my kids were little"? My neighbor Marcia let me borrow her dog clippers. I may have gotten a little carried away - I don't know. Whatcha all think?

Kesä Stone Fox Järvinen

Personally myself I think she went from Good looking Sheltie to Total Stone Fox in the matter of minutes. But that's my opinion. She hasn't come out from under the bed for days now. I guess it's true, dogs do have 'vanity issues'. 

Gray Wolf OR-7

Wolf OR7,  Oregon's 7th  radio-collared wolf, crossed the California state border into southwest Klamath County, Oregon  the other day  He had been hanging out in Tehama County, Shasta County and Lassen County since migrating to California. He traveled from his known location in  NW Lassen County to the Oregon border in 7 days. Amazing. I've been following him ever since he had first crossed into California on Dec. 28, 2011 - he was California's sole wolf, looking for a mate. He wasn't going to find one, which he obviously found out after searching the California wilds for over a year. Wolves throughout Oregon are protected by the state Endangered Species Act, but I still have mixed feelings about him returning home. I will miss following his whereabouts but then again I will feel better knowing that the California ranchers won't be 'gunning' for him now. Unfortunate for his followers like me that Oregon, unlike California, does not post daily location information on  their radio collared wolves. I hope he finds his mate and starts his own pack soon. He deserves it. 

Easter is a'coming: 
As anyone who knows me knows - I'm not a religious person. Not in the sense most people are anyway. But I do enjoy Easter for one reason. I love biting the ears and butts off chocolate Easter bunnies. 

I'm just not that much into holidays of any kind except for the 4th of July.  That's the time my Finnish Wizards and I  use Sparklers as wands and shoot spells at people! This coming year it will be important to plan ahead and  enjoy one of the last Independence Days before our complete dependence on China. 

Just a couple of my thoughts: 
I think the U.S.  budget is like the infamous Oregon Trail.  Our wagons are falling apart and everyone is dying of dysentery.What our government needs is a D.C.S - Department of Common Sense.

The people of today  are having unprotected sex. Yet they all have cases on their cell phones. Think about that. Seriously, just let that sink in for a moment.

I hate when cashiers ask you "is that everything"?  Oh no, I’d also like all this invisible shit too. 

Growing up and becoming an adult was the worst decision I’ve ever made. Being an adult is stupid. I’d like to be able to be a kid again but only because twirling in circles was acceptable and the only password I had to remember was “open sesame.” Maybe I should not complain too much, after all I have a new sponge in the sink and it just brightened my day a little. 

Bring back the good old days 

My letter to Congress: 
Dear Congress,
Last year, 2012,  I mismanaged my funds and this year I cannot decide on a budget. Until I have come to a unified decision that fits all of my needs and interests, I will have to shut down my bank account and I  will no longer be able to pay my taxes. I’m sure you’ll understand. Thank you very much for setting an example we can all follow.

If I texted all the time: 
I'm at that age where I may have to start changing up my current texting codes to much more age appropriate codes:
BFF: best friend fell, BTW: bring the wheelchair, ATD: at the doctors, FWIW: forgot where I was.  IMHO: is my hearing aid on? OMSG: oh my! sorry, gas.

My apology for the week:
To the citizens of Shingletown, please accept my apologies. I thought “flash mob” meant something completely different. Can someone come bail me out? Helllloooooo? Anybody out there? 

My questions for the week: 
Do I turn right, when there’s nothing left? Or do I turn left, when nothing is right?

Did anyone else think that the smurfs finally "grew up” when they watched the movie Avatar, or was it just me?

My advice for the week: 

Just the truth and nothing but the truth: 
It takes only 7 seconds for food to pass from your mouth to your stomach, the length of a penis is 3 times the length of the thumb, one human hair can support 3 kg, a woman’s heart beats faster than a man’s, women blink twice as much as men, and your body uses 300 muscles to balance itself when you are standing perfectly still.  Ummmm, while women have already read the entire text that I just wrote, men are still looking at their thumbs.

St.Patrick's Day: 

This year I will be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with my  gang of leprechauns.   It's the least I can do, considering I do have to admit I have 25% Irish blood in me. What time do the shenanigans start? My plans include green beer and drinking at 10am. Really, these folks know how to have fun. The Irish are great story tellers, but not stories from history or stories based on myth - usually stories rooted in their life's experiences. They really can laugh at themselves. 

I know I am that wee bit of Irish because:
~ The person that I insult the most is my best friend
~ I'm strangely poetic after a few drinks
~ I don't know the words to the song but that doesn't stop me from singing
~ I can't wait for the other guy to stop talking so I can start talking
~ I have no idea how to make a long story short
~ I have a gift for swearing
~ I'm still scared of a wooden spoon and a wooden ruler
~Mosquitoes love my blood, and leave me looking like a leper.
~I wait until I am in crippling pain or nearly dying before going to see a Dr.

Sooooooo many Irish restaurant and homes, on St. Patrick’s Day, corned beef and cabbage will be  the menu.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not in fact an Irish dish at all. It's a fact that beef was not easily available in Ireland and was actually seen as a luxury. A luxury most didn't get to experience much.  The truth is the traditional Irish meal centered around ham, the bacon, not corned beef and cabbage. It is when our Irish ancestors  got off the boats after immigrating to America that corned beef was the only meat that they could easily and cheaply get their hands on. True story, this is why it has become the meal of choice for generations of us Irish Americans to come (Me, not included).  A tradition was born, of having a boiled dinner. For this dinner the corned beef, cabbage, and carrots, turnips, and potatoes were boiled. So, I, contend, because I am Irish and I may or may not like to argue a point -  that this dinner is simply not Irish at all. 

When the Irish immigrated to  America, they couldn’t find a bacon joint like they had in Ireland so they leaned toward the  corned beef which was actually similar in texture. We all know that the majority of the Irish immigrants settled in N.Y. They landed there. Why not stay? The bars of early New York offered  free meals of corned beef and cabbage to the Irish workers who would gather in the bar after working all day. Of course those  Irish  would  have to buy a few drinks in order to get their  free meal.   Those immigrant Irish workers were merely enticed by a cheap meal. The corned beef and cabbage dinner is believed by most people to be of Irish origin but it's actually a Jewish dish.  Ok, Irish folks - Jeez - don't get your knickers in a twist. Sometimes the truth hurts. Just say'n. Grab a green beer and chill.

Whatever you’ll be preparing this St. Patrick’s Day, whether it’s a corned beef and cabbage dinner or the  real bacon and cabbage dinner, or maybe even  the Irish Beef Stew - enjoy!

Myself, I will be having an American meal of steak and taters. Or maybe just a bowl of cereal. Maybe just a handful of potato chips. St. Patrick's Day means very little to me - mainly because I don't look good wearing green and  I don't particularly look good drinking green either.

As you all know I always end my blog on a joke.....................

Obama

This time two jokes................

U.S. Government

March Monday Madness

In the mornings, I look like a cave troll and avoid any and all eye contact with all species but my dogs. Oh, let's be honest. That applies to afternoons and evenings too. But you can't see me, so all is well.
So, now my blog. A glorious conglomeration of bull and wit for my blog viewers from the United States, Netherlands, Israel, France, Germany, Russia, Latvia, Canada, and Finland. (You say WHAT? WHO? Yeah, me too!)

My thoughts for the day:

My ideas for a bumper sticker on my truck:

1) Watch out for the idiot behind me.
2) Could you possibly drive any better if I shoved that cell phone up your ass?

I think its a  sad moment when you lose that potato chip in the dip and then  you send in a recon chip and that breaks and disappears too.

They should play porn videos on the gas station pump tv's so you can watch someone else get screwed at the same time.

Remember if you drive over a bridge today or in the near future it was built by the lowest bidder.

Thank you, True Crime, for clarifying that was a reenactment. I was getting pretty upset that your camera crew didn't even attempt to stop that murder.

I think there's finally enough stuff in my kitchen junk drawer to build my pink rocket-ship.

I personally believe that the problem with marriage is that it was invented when people lived to the ripe old age of 30, you know, like in our great great grandparents days.

I always wonder if there are any  birds that prefer not to sing in the morning and that just roll around in their nests until noon. I wish my mountain jays would sleep in, just once.

Rap Music is like scissors...it always loses to rock. Always will lose.

Friendships are like wine, no matter how carefully you pick the grapes, either white or red, some wines turn to vinegar and others turn into vintage aged treasures.

My questions for the day:

Seriously, if Cinderella’s shoe really did fit her perfectly, then why or how did it fall off in the first place? But on the other hand I do have to point out that Cinderella is serious living proof that shoes CAN change your life! (This advice comes from a woman who wears snow boots and cowboy boots so it's just hear-say.)

What if we were all penquins? I'm pretty sure the worst thing about being a penguin is after you're in an argument, you'll try to waddle away angrily but still look so damn cute. Who doesn't look adorable in a tuxedo?

Really?  A stress ball isn’t for throwing at people who stress you out? Why didn't somebody tell me.

Wouldn't it be great if we were born with Anti-Virus in our hearts and Google in our brain?

Is running in front of vehicles some sort of gang initiation for squirrels?

My idea of fun:
I once shot a man with a paintball gun just to watch him dye. My bad.

My childhood memories:
Sometimes I was an innocent young girl, sometimes I was just stupid, and sometimes I exacted revenge on whomever needed it.

I thought I’d share some of what happened in my childhood for some of my longtime readers who care or for my new readers that are too tired to do their good old fashioned Facebook stalking.

Let me first explain something. During my childhood years - at birthday parties, girls were expected to get tea or art sets and barbie dolls, yet the boys were all about bows and arrows, dirt bikes and BB guns. Most father's tend to categorize little girls as softer and sweeter than boys. I suspect my father never taped a bow on my little blonde baby head and sung those “sugar and spice and everything nice” words to me. He raised me to be tough. I had to be. I was the youngest and had two older brothers. 

I tried to do everything as well as my brothers, which is apparent in this photo when I had tried to shave like my brother who was 10 years older than me. Sometimes a young girl shouldn't worship her brother as much as I did. Made this a very sad school photo didn't it? Of course, I was truly embarrassed by the very severe scar on my face.

My Dad and I

First off my childhood friends were selected based on what kind of snacks they had at their house. Or which mother would make me a sam-mich. Some of those parents were my second Mom's and Dad's. Yes, I needed that much supervision.

Roy, we were like brother-sister. Both of our homes back property entered onto school property - what a huge back-yard we had! And YES, his Mom made the best sam-miches! Cookies too.

My one friend Debbie had a huge cherry tree in her back yard. That was a hella great cherry tree. We ate cherries and spit out pits until we literally got sick. We challenged one another to see who could spit those pits the furthest. Really lady-like huh? Heck, we were teen-agers, we were by all means tomboys.
One of my other friends (who will remain un-named) had chickens running around her kitchen. Didn't eat there much. I remember a time she also rode her horse into the house. True it was a small horse - but come on - who rides a horse into their house?
Another friend and I ironed our hair. Hers was curly. Ok, understandable. Mine was about as straight as hair could be. I used a real iron on my hair. A hot iron. I wasn't ironing a shirt or a pair of pants, I was ironing my hair. Talk about stupidity. Oh wait, we were teenagers, everything we did was stupid.
In Jr. High I was very much into gymnastics. Someone on my team was not particularly nice to me. That is an actual understatement. She was downright mean. I think it was jealousy. Gymnastics was very competitive for us young girls. One time when she was in the shower I went to her locker and took her clothes and put them in my gym bag and walked the - what - 300 steps to my own property back gate. How you like that bully-bitch? Lesson learned, don't mess with me, I get revenge. Maybe not today, but I guarantee you, when you least expect it. Oddly enough my Dad answered a knock on the door within an hour later. Not oddly enough, my Dad almost got into a physical fight with this girl's father. He knew I did it, we had previously discussed this girl and how she treated me. But..... he wasn't going to tolerate any person coming on our property threatening him, for my actions. I paid for my sins. I was grounded for a week. Tolerable price to pay for exacting revenge on a bully. That girl never showered after gym again.

Jr. High was fun for me.

But then again I did have a one very humiliating experience. While swimming in the Issaquah Creek behind my friend Cheri's house, our friends, who were swimming with us decided to  play a joke on us. They were boys, we were girls. We were skinny-dipping. No big deal, we were close friends that grew up together. No modesty involved. They took our clothes and ran. We had to walk back to her house naked. Maybe I should say 'slither'. There were no houses between the creek and her house - thank goodness. We took her 'pasture' route. We got our revenge. One night we snuck over to one of the boy's house's and stole his pinto horse. We rode that horse double and hid it in another friend's pasture two miles away. We watched that boy scour all of Issaquah looking for his horse. He thought the horse had opened the gate himself. We finally fessed up and he never did anything stupid to us again.

In High School, different story, but once again, don't mess with me.

So I ask you -Is that an evil grin or just a genuinely happy High Schooler?

       

     

Maybe Savana remembers this person's name but I sure don't.  Another girl who liked to pick on me. I got into her makeup case in her purse and slipped a trout fish eye into her CoverGirl makeup bottle. Premeditated of course. The worst part for me was actually cutting that eye out of the fish. Anybody who knows me knows I dislike fish. Won't eat it. Don't want it around me.  Can you imagine? Pouring makeup into your hand expecting to apply it to your face and out comes this fish eye? I wonder if she tried to sue CoverGirl for mental anquish?  Was it the same girl I challenged to a fight on the railroad tracks? I don't know. Odd that I can't even remember this girl's name. My friend Savana may remember. She was my self appointed bodyguard back then. She watched. She was there to pick me up if need be. I can tell you from experience, do not have a fight on the railroad tracks. The pebbles are not solid footing.
Nope, this person does not tolerate being treated badly. Still don't. Oh, so many childhood memories, but best to leave for a another time.

Just complaining:

The IRS rejected my 2012 Tax Return because of my response to: "List all dependents."
I replied "12 million illegal immigrants; 42 million unemployed people on food stamps, 2 million people in over 243 prisons; and 535 worthless fools in the U.S. House and Senate." Apparently, that was NOT an acceptable answer. I worked hours on that tax return. By the way, if you owe - and you have to write a check, just make it out to China.  Only in America -  born free and then taxed to death. I seriously think these tax forms should be more realistic and allow us, the pitiful taxpayers, to list the Government (Uncle Sam) as a dependent, no matter how many dependents we have. This guy, Uncle Sam, is a serious leech.
If I already didn't have plans for my remains after my death I would make arrangements for my ashes to be sent to the IRS with the enclosed note:  "Now you have it all, you're welcome."

Just talking a little Mother Nature:

Newspaper Actual Headline: "Trees Can Break Wind".  Of course I see that headline as humorous although I am sure it was written about actual wind breaks, right?

"Sandy" would have been a much more appropriate name for a huge sandstorm than for a hurricane. Like in the Sandy Desert of Australia, right? Or the Sand Dunes of Saudi Arabia? The Sahara in Africa? From what I have learned from the  National Hurricane Center, six lists of names are used in rotation.  Devastating hurricanes are retired from the list. In 2014 they will name two Atlantic hurricanes Vickie and Laura. I knew we were such good friends that we could do damage, somewhere. Laura will be used first. I will be used afterwards. I guess the hurricane Vickie will be considered the clean up hitter?
In 2014 they will also name a Pacific hurricane Winnie, and again in 2016 but will name it Winifred. Anybody that knows me knows that wherever those hurricanes hit I will be in hiding. Deep hiding. In my cave. I have already suffered the brunt of Winnie/Winifred. A lifetime of it.
In 2017  there will be a hurricane named Sean (my son) followed immediately by another named Tammie (his wife).  Sorry Marcia, there will be no Pacific or Atlantic hurricane named after you, but in 2017 there will be one named Lee. Marcia is on the hurricane waiting list in Australia. Really Marcia, on the other side of the world? You'll do anything for a vacation away huh?
Do not fear Valrie, your turn awaits - an Atlantic hurricane in 2018 will be named Valerie. I feel that this name is close enough.  Oddly enough, followed by a hurricane named William. Can't beat that, don't you agree?
As for my cousin Allen, your name was used in 1980 and it was so deadly and costly that the name was retired. Your hurricane name was replaced with Andrew, your brother's name, also retired a decade later.  Andrew landed in Florida, your own backyard. Both of you Harju boy's hurricanes were Category 5.
Still, I love the night sky more than anything else in this world, I think its the only place where chaos is so peaceful, you know -  provided I'm not in the middle of a hurricane.

As always - I am going out on a limb here and I end this blog providing you with a joke.

                                                        
Obama