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