Jocelyn's Corner

Cutback blues!

2011-01-11T08:57:00.004-05:00

Our company has been doing some serious belt-tightening lately! Overtime has been eliminated, and nobody received a bonus last year. What little money we do get must be spent within the limits of a strict budget. That's why the higher-ups have put managers like myself in charge of these meager allowances. My people have nothing to worry about, because I'm damn good with money!

I've become a real chop-a-holic when it comes to waste! I got rid of all the office luxuries like our water coolers and free coffee. I've also switched us to half-ply toilet paper, and reduced our toilet tank's flushing capacity to just two cups. I even cut the cord to the ice machine because the maintenance on it is too expensive. I'm sure I'll hear some bitching about that one, but whatever. They can just buy their Big Gulps from the store like I do!

The company finally agreed to buy us some new office chairs last Fall. I took a few of my employees with me to the office supply store to get some opinions, and of course they collectively chose one of the most expensive models. I've got to admit, it's a nice chair. I got myself one for my office, but there wasn't much left over for everyone else. Luckily I was able to find these affordable "soda can" style chairs online. They combine cushiony comfort with the benefits of active sitting.

Not everyone was happy about my decision, and some even wanted to keep their old chairs, but I said, "no" because I don't want that chair budget to go to waste! I even used what was left over to buy myself a neat little mini-fridge for my office, and an ergonomic keyboard and mouse. I also picked up a lumbar support pillow, and a nifty foot rest for under my desk.

After all of the cutbacks and things I was surprised at the nice little budget they gave me to throw a holiday party for our office. It was just enough for a nice clean venue and some good catering. Why waste it? I decided not to tell anybody about the money and instead I got my car detailed and then went shopping at The Burlington Coat factory. They've got some cute stuff!

The folks in my office never knew better, so they got together on their own and organized a holiday luncheon. I brought a couple of 3-liter sodas but that's it. I've gotta say, this "luncheon" was some ratchet pot luck bullshit! I'm sorry but I don't trust food that was cooked in other people's homes.

I ended up throwing my full plate in the trash right in front of everybody and driving myself to KFC for a family style bucket with sides. Then I had my own little luncheon alone in my office!

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Bitch, I run it!

2010-12-03T08:42:00.008-05:00

As many of you already know, I'm the one who "wears the pants" in our household. I know some of you think that a man should have the final say, (as if that's some kind of privilege). Take it from me: being in charge isn't all it's cracked up to be! It's a lot of work, keeping the family in a calm, submissive state. Luckily I'm an office manager by day, so I have plenty of experience when it comes to micromanaging a bunch of dimwits!

My kids already know who the boss is in this house. I removed all doubt one fine day when I pulled the car over and bested Phil in a long distance peeing contest. It's amazing, the things you can settle along the railing of a highway overpass! My kids were impressed too! They no longer put up a protest when I ask them to scratch my back, which is covered in long, rubbery skin tags.

I make all of the house rules. Just last week, after falling asleep on the couch, I awoke to find an old animal cracker stuck to my thigh. Guess what? Kids are no longer allowed on the couch! And when my teenage daughter Darla asked me to offer a "vegetarian meal option" at dinner time, I said, "My pleasure, you fancy bitch! You now have the option of picking the meat off your dinner while you frown!".

You need to practice tough love if you want to raise your kids up right. Like when Brandon asked me to buy him some roller blades, I said "no". Then I gave his cousin $10 to punch him in the shoulder until he cried. Brandon protested by acting the fool and refusing his bedtime. He finally agreed to settle down when I threatened to lock him in the shed overnight with the hornets.

Family members need boundaries, so I've also established a few arbitrary rules just to show that I'm in control. For example, Phil likes to pee standing up, so I make him sit. My son Brandon prefers to do it sitting, so I make him stand. Don't you think I get sick of hovering by the bathroom door, figuring out who is doing what? Sure, I do..but that's the cost of martyrdom. You're not a strong mother unless you sacrifice of yourself to maintain a happy home!

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Cowardly travellers!

2010-11-19T07:23:00.002-05:00

The hip trend these days is to bitch about the TSA. Folks love getting indignant about their own precious rights, like they're only people on Earth who matter. Well what about those poor schlubs working in airport security, who are just trying to do a job and keep y'all safe? Do they deserve to be labelled as Nazis and pedophiles just because they need to check us out for drugs and knives? No way! They rank among the heroes in my book!

What we have here is just another backlash, and I understand why. It's easy to be frightened by increased security measures. But just imagine what those poor victims of 9-11 would think if they saw you throwing a hissy fit over a nice thorough screening! While you're distracting everyone in the security area with your foolishness, an attacker could be waltzing on through the metal detector with his hairy crotch packed full of ceramic weapons. Feel guilty yet? You should!

Personally I think y'all are acting like a bunch of cowards, afraid to have your unaroused genitals depicted in photographic detail. Some people are such prudes about showing their bodies that they even make up wild stories about how these backscatter scanning machines are filled with dangerous radiation. What they don't tell you is that these machines actually expose you to less radiation than you'd receive from microwaving an entire turkey with your head pressed against the door!

Some of you have asked to opt-out of that form of screening, so the TSA went out of their way to develop an "enhanced pat-down" as an alternative. How did y'all thank them for their consideration? You complained again, even though you have no reason to be so shy about having your camel toes and moobs gently twisted by burly TSA agents. Honestly, get over yourselves! The feel of those big curious hands are a small price to pay for our national security!

Deep down y'all know that you're just being selfish and stupid. That's why you've felt the need to play the "what-about-the-children" card so early in the game. As a mom, I can tell you that the TSA isn't putting your kids though anything that they won't experience during a doctor's visit for a tummy ache. These agents are professionals, after all. They've got sterile latex gloves on and everything. Your kids are going to cry on this trip anyway, so let them get it out of their system during the security screening so they can be quiet during the flight!

You may remain unconvinced...but don't you dare give me that crap about your Fourth Amendment rights! There's nothing in the Constitution about the right to fly. You can just take the damn bus, or a nice long train ride. Then your non-radiated, unmolested ass can smuggle all the drugs and other "junk" that your little heart desires. But don't be surprised if that jihadist in the next seat has the same idea that you do!

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Starve the artists!

2010-10-19T16:15:00.003-04:00

Back in olden times, Richmond's downtown Broad Street was bustling with cars, trolleys, and folks who wore hats and nice wool suits all day (even though it was hot as hell out and air conditioning didn't even exist yet!). Then, in a trend that swept across America, downtown went to shit after everyone fled to live in the suburbs and shop in the malls.

After many years of failed government-led downtown revitalization efforts, this area of Broad Street was blessed with a highly successful, grassroots movement that turned cheap unused storefronts into small art galleries. The success of Richmond's First Fridays art walk led to the opening of many neat local restaurants and stores. Once again, art and culture proved to be the simple, low cost way for a city to revitalize its downtown.

The Richmond city government has taken a lot of criticism for their lack of support, and for wasting gobs of money on a few big stupid revitalization projects that have amounted to jack shit. Well I happen to think that the city was wise in withholding their monetary support! You might even say that the Richmond city government deserves most of the credit for this downtown renaissance!

The fact is, artists and creative types do their best work when they're broke! The days of benefactors and life-like stone sculptures are over! Today's art is a crude, outsider affair, curated by desperate, hungry galleries.

By withholding support from the art movement in downtown Richmond, our government has helped create a culture of bored and mostly sober creative young people who have nothing better to do with their energy and idealism than work tirelessly and selflessly to restore our downtown for us! Believe me, as soon as you give these artsy non-profits a little walking around money it's "Goodbye, revitalization." and "Hello, heroin addiction!".

Keeping these art galleries and their related organizations perpetually on the brink also helps prepare for the next stage of revitalization, when all the poor art galleries will get priced out by condos and chain restaurants. Where art galleries and new local restaurants now stand, filling the streets with art walkers and foodies, we will soon see high-end strip clubs, tourist T-shirt shops, and other fun destinations!

So it's really no wonder why the city isn't rushing to give this area the special "art district" zoning that they desire. This period of local art culture is merely the pupa stage of the true revitalization. The eventual future of downtown Broad Street is so bright with 2-story Burger Kings and Books-A-Million Megastores that your average hipster artists will need a darker pair of sunglasses to wear at night!

So what becomes of them? Why they'll simply go elsewhere, hopefully to move in and revitalize another horrible area, such as Manchester, or the insufferable East End. And when they're done getting things moving there they can be replaced, once again, by warehouse condos and urban malls, filled with well paid young professionals, who'll continue to move here in droves to live in a city with a thriving arts community!

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Protective instinct!

2010-08-02T21:38:00.030-04:00

There's nothing like a mother's love. There's also nothing like the rage and viciousness of a mother whose child is in danger. It's such a rush to feel my primal senses take focus, as threats are dealt with in a definitive manner.

It was the first night of our family camping trip. Little Jailen and I took the car out to pick up some food at the local mini-market. It was real small place with four tall aisles, a sad produce cooler, and a deli in the back. While I shopped the aisles, Jailen went to the produce and ate some grapes. That's when someone grabbed her arm and dragged her behind the deli counter. I was oblivious.

Apparently this place had a little security camera, and this older woman who was running the place had seen Jailen, and dragged her back there to show her on the monitor how she got caught. That's when I started calling out for my baby. Long story short, she lectured me for ten minutes before I lost my patience, grabbed the security tape, and body-checked her old ass straight into a soapy utility sink. I was in such a huff as I stormed out that I almost left Jailen behind!

The need to protect your young never goes away, even as they get older. Darla is 17 now, and though she's been through a lot she still doesn't know the dangers out there. That's why I was concerned when she began dating a college boy named Bradley. He's 19, but he almost looks younger than her. He's weak. I knew he wouldn't be able to protect her or provide for her. I couldn't stand the idea of this guy ending up with my daughter!

Unfortunately the more I tried to break them up, the more she fought me, and the more he tried to get on my good side. So one afternoon I told him that I had terrible menstrual cramps, and the only thing that made them tolerable was some marijuana. I asked him to get me a good amount so I could eat it (in brownies!) rather than smoke it. Bradley was arrested on the way back to our house that night. The traffic stop was based on an anonymous tip, and he had enough in his possession for a felony charge.

Well as it turns out, poor Bradley's parents live outside of the country, so there was nobody around to bail him out. I don't think anyone even knew he was missing, because he was stuck in jail until his court date. What he didn't know was that my cousins work in that facility, and I told them to make sure that he didn't get a chance to call Darla until she found a new boyfriend. Honestly, that's all I said!

I guess they must have gotten the wrong idea, though I honestly don't even know all of what went on since the arrest. From what I could gather, the guards dragged him from his bed in the night, and they got one of the other prisoners to tattoo his face to look like ladies' make-up. He was returned to general population, and then a few days later he was moved to the jail's infirmary. They say he's spent the last month recovering from multiple injuries, and is now fighting an advanced staph infection. He was so bad off that they even had to push out his court date!

So as you can see, a mother's drive to protect her young isn't always about lifting a wrecked car off of a baby. Sure, the adrenaline can sometimes throw me into a ruthless berzerker mode. Other times it's just a nagging feeling that you've got to do what's right. I know it may seem like overkill, but you can't argue with results; little Jailen still samples all the grapes she wants, and Darla has been hooking up with her supervisor at Qdoba. Aww yeah, free burritos ya'll!

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Drive politely!

2010-05-25T09:46:00.010-04:00

I know I get silly on this blog sometimes, but operating a vehicle ain't no joke, y'all! Crashes are a top killer in this country, and I ain't trying to die or kill nobody. That's why I don't play when I'm behind the wheel! You may be a good driver too, but that doesn't mean everyone else is. That's why I remain as patient as possible when I'm behind the wheel, and I'm always considerate of others!

If there's one thing I hate it's when I can't pull out onto a main road because traffic is so heavy. So when I see someone waiting to pull out of a gas station or whatever I'll be nice and slam on my breaks to stop traffic and let them out. Or if I'm busy with my phone at a 4-way stop, I'll just wave several cars through and yield right of way while I handle my business. Some people seem confused by this, then they proceed through slowly and nervously. I guess they're not used to people being gracious like I am!

Sometimes when I'm ready to leave a parking space I'll notice that some driver behind me has come to a stop and put on a blinker in my direction. While I appreciate his politeness in letting me out, I try to be the bigger person and wait for him to pass, which sometimes takes several minutes. If he doesn't go after a while I'll roll the window down, and signal with my hand for him to pass. Then I'll pull out of the spot when traffic allows.

A driver should be focused on the road, but it's also important to keep your passengers in mind. My kids often come along when I run my errands, and I know how bored they get watching the same old DVDs all the time. That's why I like to entertain them by doing some of their favorite things, like blowing through a red light, or racing teenagers from the county who meet in the Food Lion parking lot.

Of course we all had to deal with inattentive or aggressive drivers on the road. I don't waste time with passive responses, like swerving or honking my horn. When I see another driver acting the fool I move to a safe distance from their vehicle. Then I calmly follow them to their destination, and teach them a lesson that they won't soon forget. That way the roads stay safer for everyone!

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The parent trip!

2010-05-12T09:02:00.010-04:00

Mother's Day this year was a bit of an eye opener for me! My oldest left with her friend the night before and didn't even bother calling or coming home until Monday. Little Jailen made me a card out of construction paper that said, "YOR A MEEN MOMMY". And 9-year-old Brandon bought me a talking plastic pig that's supposed to help me with my diet by oinking insults whenever someone opens the fridge.

What I've realized is that my kids don't necessarily like me. But I happen to think that this is the way it ought to be. I'm not here to be their friend! I'm here to toughen them up, and that's exactly what I do. I make them watch old episodes of OZ. Later, when they refuse to behave, I threaten to call the police to come arrest them. I tell them about how they'll be taken to jail where there's nothing to eat but bread and water and ass.

It's important for kids to understand that they are second class citizens in the household. When dinner is ready you should be sure that mommy gets her plate first, then daddy. Then, maybe, the kids. Sooner or later your kids will learn that beggars can't be choosers, so they can either eat mommy's pizza crusts or go hungry! It may sound harsh to some of you, but I can assure you that my kids are grateful for everything I give them!

Parents today are always spoiling their kids, then regretting it later. I'm so sick of seeing ugly little kids out there bossing their parents around and eating McDonald's all the time and wearing store-bought shoes. Kids should be treated like orphans, wearing burlap clothes, making their own shoes, and occasionally being rewarded with a dinged-up apple as a treat.

I'm not what you'd call an overbearing parent. I've always taken a laissez-faire approach to child rearing. If their housekeeping chores are done, and they've checked their own homework then sure, they can do whatever the hell they want as long as it doesn't annoy me. But as soon as I start getting letters from the school it's goodbye privileges and hello Step dad Phil staying home and bossing them around while I'm out drinking!

My kids know that I'm kicking them out when they turn 18. That's why it's only fair that I help prepare them early for a long life of loneliness and neglect. The best way to learn self-reliance is by yourself. In these sparse conditions that I have provided for them, they are learning independence and survival skills that will serve them all their lives! Soon enough, when they're out there in the world making their own money, they can eat all the cereal and use all the paper towels that their hearts desire!

Officer "Perky" rides again!

2010-04-27T08:01:00.013-04:00

I had quite a harrowing experience this last weekend y'all! I was driving home after some dancing and drinking with a friend up in Maryland. She invited me to crash at her place just outside of D.C., but I always prefer to wake up in my own bed. As I was cruising down the highway through Northern Virginia at about 1:30 in the morning I started to get hungry! So I pulled off a random highway exit, and of course nothing was open. As I tried to find my way back to the highway, and while checking my replies on Twitter , I suddenly noticed that I was being pulled over by a damn cop!

Normally in this situation I'd look for an out, like not stopping the car until I passed over into the next county, but there was no such opportunity here. The best I could do was spray a bunch of fake Drakkar Noir air freshener to cover up the smell of weed and all the beer I'd spilled on my crotch at the bar. I finally came to a stop at a particularly unsafe spot in the road.

I quickly applied some horny-looking lip gloss. The cop appeared next to the car and started talking before I could even get my window rolled down. I couldn't peg this guy at first glance, because he wasn't young enough to be a prick, but also not old or ugly enough to accept a traditional booty bribe. He asked me to please turn down the volume of my Ke$ha album, and stop trying to light the wrong end of my cigarette. That's when I knew I was dealing with a total jerkface.

At his request I slowly and deliberately retrieved my license and registration from my purse (and I mean SLOWLY, cause I wasn't trying to get my taze on!). But I did let my emotions get the better of me, because as I was collecting these items I was calling him names and asking if he didn't have anything better to do, and also informing him that I didn't do nothing.

The officer took my stuff back to his car for what seemed like a really long time. Thankfully I have a clean record because I never get caught for anything. To keep it that way I had to take inventory of my situation. I had a handful of crushed Adderall in an envelope in the middle console, and I certainly didn't want to get caught with that, so I snorted it all up lickedy-split. Then I remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels under my seat.

Before he got a chance to finish what he was doing in his car I jumped out of my car's driver side door and stood there glaring. The loudspeaker came on, "Miss, get back in your vehicle!". I quickly unscrewed the cap from the booze and chugged about half of it. Now he'd never be able to prove that I'd been drunk before he pulled me over! Then I set the bottle on the ground, leaned up against a my car, and cross my arms like I was hot shit.

The officer slowly stepped out of his car and stalked over with a scary look in his eye and the smile of a man possessed. That's when his walkie-talkie went off with some emergency "Attention all units!" bullshit. He listened for a second more, then cut the volume down. "Looks like it's your lucky night, you fucking low-life. Try not to kill anybody, and don't you ever let me catch you around here again!". He threw my license and registration at my feet and walked briskly back to his car. Then he cut his sirens on and took off.

I drove home feeling pretty good about myself. My clean record stands, and I discovered that I had a nice fat joint in my cigarette pack to smoke on the ride home. You know how it is with weed and booze sometimes! I was so damn tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. The next thing I was started awake while driving 40mph down the wrong side of a road with both left tires in a drainage ditch! I was able to pull back onto the road, but when I got home all the grass and shit from the edge of the ditch was stuck up under my muffler and catalytic converter, and some of it was on fire! I threw a bunch of rocks and sand from our driveway at it until the fire went out. You know, that cop wasn't kidding. It really was my lucky night!

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Backstage bound!

2010-04-12T19:36:00.016-04:00

I was brought up to appreciate a good rock concert. I had a wild older cousin named Lazarus who used to take me to all kinds of shows before he died. He said it was important for my education. We'd go to see the heaviest bands, and scam drugs in the shadiest parking lots. I was young and timid at my first few shows. Then I got the hang of it! Now I thrash out with my fuckin' rash out, and it's just about the best release I've ever known!

I decided it was time to teach my daughter the ways, so I treated us to a recent concert at one of Richmond's hottest venues. It was some sort of indie rock band, which sounds really lame, but at least it's rock. Y'all remember rock? It was that shit we used to get pregnant to before rap showed up and took over as the official soundtrack of teenage sex and not pulling out like a gentleman. But I digress.

Darla wasn't sure how to dress because she didn't know the band either, but I knew what to do. When it comes to concerts you can never go wrong with sleazy high heels and slutty ripped jeans, fishnet accents, and no bra. We got to the show about the time the openers were done, so there was a 20 minute window to meet the band early. I tried to convince Darla to help me blow these two bouncers at the side entrance to get us backstage, but she helpfully pointed out that they were actually just a couple of overweight dudes waiting for a bus.

After getting our tickets at will call, having our purses checked, and swallowing a sleeve of crushed amphetamines in the bathroom, we were just in time to see the headliners. The view from the back was boring, so it was time to enlighten my daughter on another fine point of rock concert theory: Reaching the front row at all costs.

Once you weave through the first few layers of people who seem to need their own personal space, you start to find yourself in a rather impermeable concentration of people. Dudes will widen their stance or stiffen up to block you out if you're all "'scuse me...'scuse me", so forget that noise. Don't say a word until you're ready to make your move. Then punch whichever elbow is attached to their drink hand, and when they turn to look you just slide around the other side of 'em.

At around the fourth row we came upon a group of real hard asses. These kids didn't have drinks or anything, but they weren't about to move for anyone. The show started so we had to lay low for a bit. I held up my cell phone and filmed the performance of the first two songs for my blog, but I won't post it because the video came out like shit. Then I really needed a cigarette, so I smoked it secretly by cupping it inside of my hand, and blowing all the smoke into the full, curly hair of the girl in front of me.

The crowd got really excited when they heard the intro to the next song, so I used the distraction to slip the air horn out from the large make-up bag in my purse. Then I started blaring it into my armpit where no body could see each time the singer sang the chorus. As the bouncers moved in from the front I slipped the horn into the tote-style purse that the girl in front of me was carrying, and I began pointing at her from behind. She and her friend were carried off, and me and Darla were in the third row! And with the use of proper timing and clumsy dancing we quickly made it up to the front!

What's so important about being in the front row, you ask? Well you never know, you might end up like Courtney Cox or something! In fact, Darla got invited back stage herself, and she brought me along because I was her ride! Unfortunately I had to sit outside the lounge on a folding chair while listening to three roadies gangbang my daughter in the next room. It was silly if you ask me! Don't they know about the pleasures that only a freaky groupie cougar-milf can bring?!

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Funny bunny!

2010-04-01T20:36:00.013-04:00

When I need a break from the distractions of life, I simply take some time to get in touch with my spirituality. I usually do this by dropping acid and walking around in public places. This activity allows me to see things as they are, without the oppression of my subconscious mind. So last year, on Easter Sunday, I woke up early and dropped five hits of LSD. Then I drove out to Maymont Park, which I thought would be quiet for the holiday.

Well as it turns out, everybody goes to Maymont on Easter, and they bring their kids. There's Easter egg hunts and everything. It seemed like a bit too much of a crowd for the state I was in, but at least they were all in a good mood. I began to feel pretty weird, so I wandered to the safety of the "bamboo forest" area and snuck around through the tall bamboo.

I lost my bearings a bit in there, but felt pretty safe. It was quiet. I took out my one-hitter and took a had a nice fat hit of some weed to smooth things over. As I finished my exhale a fast moving Vietnamese family of four came hiking through a side trail and right through my smoke. Why does weird stuff like that always happen when you're tripping? We may never know.

Although my stomach felt dull and numb I sensed that I had to pee. This was bad, because the bathrooms at Maymont can be weird. They're these small, echoey out-buildings. Most of the light is coming from the opened rectangle windows along the top of the walls. This creates an refraction of light and outside sounds that can be dangerous to the psychologically-sensitive. I decided to focus and just get it over with.

I kept my head down, hurried into a stall, and did my business. Knowing the danger, I glanced quickly at the mirror on my way back out. I couldn't help but notice that I had a long diagonal pen mark across my neck. I decided to try to get it off with some wet paper towel. Ten minutes later I'm walking back out of the restroom with part of my neck rubbed red raw and water all over my messed up shirt collar. Stupid mirrors! They always get me!

I wandered around the back of one of the maintenance buildings and sat down to get some peace. That's when, out of nowhere, the cutest little calico bunny appeared around the other side by some bushes. I stayed still as he casually hopped over. I held out some tender grass for him to eat, and before I knew it I was holding him, eyes shut, fully in tune. I have no idea how long this went on.

My trance was broken by a screaming girl, followed by a boy, both of whom had discovered me and my bunny. I looked down and the stupid thing was lifeless in my arms, eyes all bugged out. Apparently it was extremely diseased or something because it's neck was all bloated and wormy looking. I guess that would explain it's unexpected friendliness. I jumped up, tossed it's body into one of the kid's little baskets, and calmly walked away towards the exit of the park.

At first I put the whole experience down to just being a bad trip. But now that I've examined that day further, I realize that I learned something. I learned that the subconscious mind is there for a reason, and it's best not to leave it unguarded. That's why I get shitfaced each night before bed. It keeps me from having any more realistic dreams about that fucking rabbit.

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Home buyers remorse!

2010-03-25T08:58:00.008-04:00

When my ex-husband Kevin and I bought our first house we were so excited. But then Kevin got called up for active duty, leaving me alone in a new home with our daughter Darla, who was only 5 at the time. I wasn't very comfortable with the idea, but we didn't have a choice. Unfortunately my instincts were right! That hundred-year-old dump was haunted as shit!

I'd originally set up the master bedroom in the back of the house, but there was something really wrong with that space. At night I'd have trouble sleeping because I was hearing deep whispering voices accompanied by a chill breeze, and a strange smell like a burnt up wig. Sometimes I'd be woken up from what felt like a cold hard slap across my tits.

My daughter Darla slept more deeply than I did, so I made her move in there. On the very first night she came into my room at around 3 a.m. crying about nightmares and asking to sleep in my bed. I said, "No ma'am!". I sent her right back in and locked the door from the outside. Sorry, but I didn't need her "bringing something back" while I was trying to get my rest!

After about a week I noticed that she was developing strange fears, like fear of the dark, and mirrors, and teeth, and her bedroom. I had to figure out something before things got any worse. I went out and bought a Ouija board. I kept asking questions and hurling insults, but as soon as the little oracle started to move around in response I would toss it off the board so the spirits wouldn't get a chance to speak. Then I just burned the board.

Darla kept a complaining about hearing voices and getting shoved around, so I went online to look for answers. I discovered a method that sounded just crazy enough to work. I called in a favor from a friend at the morgue who scored me a jug full of blood that he'd drained from a dead whore. I baptized my daughter in that room with the blood, surrounded by decorative black candles. I couldn't believe it, but it worked! Things were calm for several nights in a row! I immediately put the house on the market, and it was sold within a week to another unsuspecting young couple.

What's really weird is how I forgot all about this experience until just the other day. I was browsing through Target when a frail, elderly woman came around the corner of an aisle and gazed with worry into my eyes. The she leaned forward a bit, grabbed my wrist, and dry-heaved. She looked up, pointed at me with her other hand and said, "I know what you did in that house! You've cursed your daughter for all her life!".

After the initial shock I yelled, "Fuck that!!".

"Your horrible deed that night led to her miscarriage!", she scolded. I didn't know what else to say, so I just yanked my arm loose and hurried back up the aisle. She hollered after me, "She'll never be free! And that family you sold the house to? They're all dead!". I could not believe she had the nerve to say that. What a crazy old bitch!

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The curse of St. Pat!

2010-03-17T08:03:00.005-04:00

I was lucky enough to inherit my beautiful head of red hair from my grandfather, a hardworking Irish immigrant. He always used to say that I had, "a merry bit of Ireland" in my eyes. He passed away when I was very young, but I never forgot about him. And I was delighted when I discovered that my first child, Darla, was born with his same smile!

As y'all know, it was my mom who took care of Darla for the first few months of her life. Mother was terribly upset when I swooped in later and took Darla away with me to live. She told me that it wasn't fair to either of them, after letting her get attached. I told her, "Too bad, bitch! It's MY baby!". It was pretty hardcore.

Like all young mothers, I loved my baby as much as I loved to party! So naturally I was pissed when St. Patrick's Day rolled around and I couldn't find a babysitter (I wouldn't give Mother the satisfaction!). Rather than be stuck at home I just decided to take Darla out on the town with me. She wasn't looking very festive as a brunette, so I dyed her hair orange and bought her a green-lettered "Party Till You Puke!" onesie.

It actually worked out great because drunk people love babies! Folks were buying me drinks and we were dancing and having a great time. As the night wore on I had bar hopped until there weren't any more bars to hop to. Little Darla was passed out on my shoulder like an angel. As I strolled back to my apartment I heard some janky ho calling me from a nearby stoop. She coughed and asked me if I wanted to huff some green paint! I'd never tried that before, so I did.

Of course being a lightweight at the time, I couldn't handle my fumes! I got dizzy as shit and could barely stop myself from getting sick. I stumbled for a block or two, but couldn't go any further. I laid Darla down on the trunk of a parked car and sat down on the curb so I could put my head between my knees. As the nausea subsided a bit I heard a car door slam shut.

As I opened my eyes I noticed that the parked car was driving off with Darla on it! Thank god there was a red light at the next intersection. I managed to grab her just before she rolled off! The driver noticed something was up and got out of the car. I panicked. All I could think to do was to grab a hunk of loose asphalt from the gutter and throw it at his head! I heard him scream out as I hurried back up the one-way street.

As if that weren't enough, I ended up getting stuck in the apartment with my baby for several days because the police told the newspaper and local TV stations that they were looking for a crazed woman with green paint on her mouth carrying an orange baby. Take it from me kids and don't mess around with spray paint. That crap does not want to wash off!

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Little punks!

2010-03-11T09:29:00.001-05:00

My son Brandon has always been a bit of a loner. He's not really into stuff that the other boys are into, like sports and breaking things. I've tried my best with him, but no matter what I do he keeps quietly reading books and listening to all kind of pussy music on the local "indie" radio station. Well now I've got some new concerns, mostly with this new group of friends he's been hanging out with.

Now I realize these boys are just fourth graders, but I get the feeling that they're up to no good! One of them is named Matt, and they all love to hang out at his house because it's close to the school and his mom doesn't care that they like to play outside all the time (even though I called her and told her that they're safer inside). She also lets them play Guitar Hero even though that music is full of bad messages and satanic stuff that their minds aren't ready for.

Another thing that bothers me is how they all dress like little preppies in clothes that look like they came from The Gap. To me there's just something wrong with a kid that doesn't want to dress like a schizophrenic homeless person. Brandon insists that their parents make them wear that stuff but I'm not so sure. They look a little too comfortable in those khakis.

I've also been noticing that a couple of them spike their hair up like little jerks, and sometimes wear bracelets or necklaces that are supposedly made for boys. Thankfully Brandon already knows better than to wear that kind of stuff. Hopefully before he's tempted to try anything like that he'll remember how I grounded him for a month during Summer vacation when I caught him drinking out of one of the pink tumblers from the cupboard.

But what's really weird about his little pals is how they really mind their parents, and they all get pretty good grades. That's just not normal for 9-year-olds! It's been rubbing off on Brandon too. He been even more serious lately about things like his homework and his manners. It's driving me nuts! I'm starting to suspect that one of his little asshole friends is slipping him some A.D.D. medication or something. If this crap keeps up I'm going to forbid him from playing with those boys (at least until he graduates elementary school).

_

Phil is busy!

2010-02-23T09:50:00.006-05:00

My new hubby Phil is at it again. I keep telling him that his damn friends need to stop calling here, asking him to go do stuff with them. Phil's a married man, which means his ass is busy! He doesn't have time to go whorin' around with his blotchy-faced buddies at the off-tracking betting parlor or whatever! So tonight and every night, he's here at my goddamn beck and call because the bitch knows what's good for him!

He doesn't know it, but I overheard him the other day, talking about how much he misses hunting season with the boys, or the occasional week in Vegas. He even had the nerve to refer to all his vacation time as wasted on what he referred to as "Jocelyncations". Apparently he doesn't like being forced to go with me when I visit my peoples in Jacksonville every year. Tough tit, hubby. That's your job!

He's also been trying to sneak out with his friends on weekends, especially during football season. But then I catch on and remind him that I need him to drive me and my friends down to the Wicker Barn (wicker outlet!) in Augusta, Georgia. He should be happy! This is his chance to drive his precious Caliber , while me and my girls get drunk in the passenger seats and laugh and carry on like a bunch of cackling hens!

In an effort to keep the peace, I've made a deal with Phil. For one night each month I'll stay home and babysit my kids so he can go out and do something he wants to do. The only condition is that he needs to bring my preteen son Brandon along so the boy can learn from being around the guys. What he doesn't know is that Brandon is mommy's little snitch, so if there's any funny business it's Phil's ass!

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Unhappy hour!

2010-02-18T11:37:00.012-05:00

The folks at work have been treating me differently ever since I took over the office. I understand if they're apprehensive about being friends with me. I'm their boss now. I've also fired all their stupid friends, so naturally they're worried about their own jobs. Still, it's only business. There's no need for them to be a bitches about it!

What really sucks is how I never get to hear any good gossip or anything because nobody ever wants to chat with me, or take smoke breaks together. The only time I hear about anything juicy is when I'm eavesdropping. So on Tuesday afternoon, while monitoring a few people's personal calls through our phone system, I heard one of the girls talking about how they were all going to happy hour that night. Nobody invited me, so I had to invite myself!

Buffalo Wild Wings is a favorite spot for the gang at my office. Everybody was happily sipping their first drink when I showed up. It looked like some of them even brought friends. They didn't even see me coming as I bumped up into the group with a "Hey, y'all! What're y'all doing here?!". They weakly greeted me. I could tell that they needed my help to get the fun started!

I headed over to the bar and ordered everyone a shooter that an old bartender friend of mine said he named after me: The HPV. I'm not sure what the name means, but it's made of hot sauce and cranberry vodka, and it gets you fuuuucked up! I brought 'em over to the table on a tray. I couldn't believe that a few people didn't want one! I turned on the pressure and convinced everyone to try it. This was supposed to be a party, after all!

I took a moment to teach everybody how to take this special shot. You place it on the table, wrap your lips around the shot glass, sit up, and tip your head back. Once you've swallowed the shot you've got hold the glass there with your lips and use your tongue to lick the inside of it clean. You should have seen them! They were all chocking and gagging like a bunch of punks, and I was laughing my ass off!

After that I slipped off to the bathroom where I ran into the new wife of Andrew, our youngest associate. She said that he had invited her along to meet everyone. I told her not to be nervous, and asked her if she wanted a bump of coke to help her socialize. She said okay because she was feeling a little anxious. Then the bitch proceeded to snort up a big fat line I had just cut for myself right off the bathroom counter. I was impressed!

We got back to the group and she starts acting really weird. She was all bug-eyed and asking everyone if they wanted to go party somewhere. I didn't want anyone to think that I had given her anything so I just left. On my way to my car I stopped to let all the air out of the tire of the girl whose call I'd monitored earlier. Serves her right for not inviting me!

So imagine my surprise when Andrew comes storming into my office this morning in a pissed off mood. Apparently his wife had kicked a drug habit before they'd met and now she's back on coke. They got in a fight and she's already left him to stay with her old drug dealer ex-boyfriend. How was I supposed to know that bitch was a junky? I told Andrew that he could have the afternoon off to go get his wife back. He didn't seem very happy with that suggestion, so I told him to get out of my face before I fired his ass.

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My horny Valentine!

2010-02-10T09:50:00.003-05:00

Y'all give me a hard time, like I'm some kind of bitch. Well I'll have y'all know that I'm a very romantic, giving kind of woman! And even though I enjoy a "open relationship" (don't tell my husband!), I always show him an amazing time come Valentine's Day! It's a good wife's duty!

The first gift I'll offer my new hubby is one of those jumbo 7-11 Valentine's cards. Inside he'll find a fresh copy of his favorite porno mag. Who needs the chafing associated with cheap lingerie when you can get the same effect by laying a copy of Juggs magazine across your back?

When romance is in the air you've gotta make arrangements. For example, we'll send the kids over to a babysitter's for the night so we don't keep them up with all our loud freaky sex! We'll end up doing it on the sink, in the baby's crib, and maybe on a loose bed of my grandfather's ashes! And when that's done, we'll fondle each other with cold cuts in front of the fridge à la 9½ Weeks (my fave movie!).

There are several other sexy tricks I use to get Phil off. But his favorite is when I crush beer cans by slapping them against the counter with my floppy left tit. He also likes it when I grind on top of him in reverse cowgirl while wearing a Michael Vick jersey and matching jelly shoes.

But enough about us! Valentine's Day isn't just about committed relationships like mine. It's about old fashioned romance! Young love! You guys can go cheap when a girl is still smitten! Just bring a cheap card and a little McDonald's surf n' turf. The gift doesn't have to be pricey either. Might I suggest a lovely crack stem rose from the gas station? Just don't forget the Chore Boy!

Losin' the weight!

2010-02-04T09:50:00.008-05:00

Bikini season is right around the corner, folks, and it's time to lose those Winter pounds! A few of the girls at the office have had success with Alli, so I've been giving that a whirl. Unfortunately you can't eat badly on this stuff because it turns your food's fat content into a heavy orange grease. This nasty stuff ends up leaking right out of you like liquid gold!

I've had to resort to wearing adult diapers everywhere. It's not easy because they fill up quick, so instead of sexy love handles I've got a soggy diaper muffin-topping over the waist of my low-rise jeans. And try flushing one of those babies down! It turns even the most powerful toilet into a Bangkok stew pot. But at least I get to eat what I like!

Of course I'm still trying to cut back and be sensible. Instead of ordering a Triple Whopper from Burger King I've decided to settle on the Double. That's a savings of over 250 calories! Or instead of a tasty Big Mac, I just ask for two Big Mac Wraps. Low carbs means more yummy meat for me!

I've also been forced to stop buying snacks for the kids. Those tasty single-serving packs just tempt me too much! I always catch myself eating up their Lunchables, or polishing off a whole box of Fruit Roll-ups. The cupboard is so empty that I've had to give them my Dexatrims to bring for their snack at school.

I'm also encouraging my hubby Phil to shed a few pounds. But I'm not nagging the poor man; I'm using modern behavioural training techniques. When I catch him eating fattening foods I'll sneak up and perform a "Cup and Serve". Simply put, I fart quietly into my own hand, "cupping" the gas, then open my palm to "serve" it in Phil's face. It always succeeds in putting him off his food!

And yes, I've cheated a little! I've gorged on the occasional bucket of chicken here or there. But I always make up for it by getting my next lunch at Subway. I'd eat there more, but it's not very appetizing. Their employees tend to forget that the food safety gloves exist to protect our food, not just to protect their hands from money, trash, and cold cut juice.

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Blessed day!

2010-01-29T10:14:00.004-05:00

My sweet doggie Muffin has been found! One of my peoples down in Southside called me up and said she saw Muffin with some dudes I used to mess around with. The bad news is that these guys are into dog fighting. I didn't know if I should be more afraid for Muffin or those other dogs!

The majority of Richmond's stray or stolen dogs end up in the hands of dog fighting kennels. Most of them are used as simple bait in fight training. But there are exceptions, such as my incorrigible Muffin. Take one look at him and you know he was born to fight, because he bites people who look at him. It does seem like fun, but that sport is too dirty for my baby!

I rolled down there last night in the Caliber to bring him back home. Kinda sketchy, I know, but these guys know better than to fuck with me. I sent one of their cousins to the hospital a while back. About a month after it happened he told people that he still has nightmares of me coming up behind him in the dark with that broken bottle. What a punk!

So I get to the spot, which is out on a dirt road, and there's already cars all over the place. Getting to the pit was no problem because they had that same cousin in charge of "security". I got back there just in time to collect Muffin before his next fight. A few people tried to say something until I turned my head and shot them a look. Then shit got real quiet, except for one nervous sounding fart.

I led Muffin back out front and put him in the car. I scolded him for running away and getting into this mess. He just huffed and laid down in the back seat. I felt so lucky to have him back, and I figured since I was already there I might as well ride the streak and place a bet on the next fight. This was a wise notion, because I won $50! Muffin's getting some new booties!

My babies hongry!

2010-01-27T13:07:00.009-05:00

I came home last night around 11:30pm, drunk as a skunk, to discover that my damn kids were still up and running around the house. They said they hadn't had any dinner, and they'd gotten into my case of Red Bulls from Costco and made a big mess of it. The babysitter wasn't even there. He'd left a note about needing to bail his girlfriend out of jail.

My comfy bed was calling to me, but I knew my kids needed some food in their stomachs or they'd never get to sleep and they'd be impossible to wake up in the morning. I also had a pretty good case of the beer munchies. The only thing open was the Wendy's drive-thru, so I drove us over real quick and pulled up to the speaker. The lady came on and I ordered myself a combo.

Of course my kids were so hopped up on caffeine that they couldn't think straight and didn't know what they wanted. I heard one of them say, "Happy Meal!" and I said, "No baby, this is Wendy's, they got a kids meal...". A truck pulled up behind us in the line. I don't think he had his high-beams on, but his headlights were still shooting right through the back window of our car, which I can't stand.

I continued to try to get an order out of my kids. "Jailen, you want some apple slices? How 'bout some chicken nuggets baby? Do y'all think Orenthal would like a Jr Bacon?" (I'd left the baby at home 'cause his car seat is a pain in the ass). I looked back and three more cars were lined up. I decided to just order whatever, and of course the kids started to bitch and cry but by that point I didn't care.

I drove up to the window to pay, and unfortunately I'd forgotten to bring the purse that I keep Phil's credit cards in. All I had was my back-up card which has a bad strip, so the lady had to run it several times before manually typing it in. Then she handed me our dranks and a bag.

She said, "I'm still working on getting your Double with pickles and three Frosties, so please pull ahead to the door up on your left and we'll get those right out to you." I said "Naw.". For a minute she just stared at me while I sat there. "Ma'am, please pull ahead so we can keep the line moving". I replied, "No, that's okay, just do your best".

The cashier sighed and slammed the window shut. She came back three minutes later and handed us our stuff. Then she shut the door again and stared at me while I inventoried our bags to make sure we got everything. Well I'm sorry, but I've been burned before by these late-night losers.

Just then the guy from the truck behind us got out and came up to the window between my car and the drive-thru window. He banged on the window and yelled something at the cashier. I wasn't sure how to let this guy know how rude that was so I decided to just drive off while he had his ass pressed up against my car. I heard him swear as I took off, and me and the kids had a good laugh.

I pulled around and parked behind a large van near the entrance where I could watch the guy leave without him seeing me. The kids were whining for their food but I told them to wait because nobody's allowed to eat in my car but me! The guy pulled around and we followed him all the way down to the highway ramp. That's when I speed-dialed the police and reported him as a drunk driver. It took us another ten minutes to drive home from there, and by then the kids were fast asleep in the back seat. Screw it, more nuggets for me!

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Muffin gone wild!

2010-01-21T08:23:00.002-05:00

Poor Muffin! He doesn't get out much, and doesn't get much exercise. I also think that spending all his time alone in our tiny backyard (behind a 7-foot privacy fence) has driven him a little bit crazy! Honestly, he hasn't been looking right lately:

So a few days ago, on an unseasonably warm morning, I loaded him into the car and drove down to Richmond's beautiful "Fan District", because it's such a lovely place to take a stroll. It felt really good, with Muffin trotting along merrily while I power walked in my cute shorty shorts and Winnie the Pooh hoodie.

There are only a few businesses peppered throughout this neighborhood, including a small real estate office. As we strolled by it Muffin came to a dead stop and began motioning towards the office door. That stubborn dog wouldn't let me pull him another inch! I walked back to try to drag him out of his stance, but he growled real low and wouldn't budge.

He started scratching at the base of the door and groaning, so I decided to just let him in to find out what he wanted so bad. As soon as the door was breached Muffin shoved his way through, dragging me behind. He was sniffing all over the floor like a maniac! A few agents were sitting inside at their dark wood desk, probably wondering what the hell we were doing.

They found out soon enough, as he crouched down on their beautiful hand-woven wool rug and took a massive liquid shit. He then took two dainty steps, kicked his hind legs a few times towards the mess, and walked back outside. All I could say was, "Sorry, he's been sick!" as we both high-tailed it out of there. Muffin and I ran down the side alley and up a few blocks to avoid further scrutiny.

Now that Muffin had taken care of business he became more difficult to walk. He was yanking me all over the place, but I held my arm tight and pretended like we were still just out for a leisurely walk. We passed a bench by a bus stop and there was a nice looking old black gentleman sitting there. He stared at Muffin like it was the devil or something! He didn't even notice my cute shorts!

As I passed I said, "Good Morning!" in a sing-song voice. He didn't say a word, he just kept staring. I didn't want him to think that there was anything to be afraid of so I walked Muffin closer to him and said, "What's the matter? Don't you know how to say good morning?!". After about ten seconds he finally looked up at me and mumbled, "OH, good morning, good morning..". I just shrugged and we went on our way.

As we headed down another cobblestone alley a small white cat darted out from under a fence around the end of the alley. Muffin couldn't resist! He yanked me so hard that the bathrobe belt I'd been using as a leash came loose from his neck! I followed him down the side street but it was too late. What sucks is that he wasn't even wearing his collar or tags! I hope he finds his way home soon because there's a big bag of dog food here that's gonna go to waste!

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More money saving tips!

2010-01-14T12:53:00.004-05:00

I've gotten so many emails thanking me for my original list of money saving tips for single moms. Of course no thanks is necessary. We girls have got to stick together! Some of those who've contacted me have received a few bonus tips in response, and I'd now like to share those tips with the rest of you. If we all stay on track then we might just make it out of this Obama recession!

I'm a frugal drinker, as y'all know. So when I finish an expensive bottle of wine I don't just throw the bottle in the recycling bin. That's wasteful! Instead I break the neck of the bottle. Then I return it to the store and tell the clerk that it broke when I tried to open it. In most cases they'll give me a replacement bottle free of charge. You just have to remember to rotate which shops you go to, and make sure that they carry your brand.

Flowers are another easily returnable item. Phil is always buying them to keep himself out of the doghouse. After about a week I bring them back to the shop and demand some new healthy ones. I'll argue if necessary, but not for long. If the clerks continue to refuse I'll simply dump the dead stems and dirty flower water on their feet and leave. Their manager will hook me up later when I explain how their employee slapped the vase out of my hands.

Another big waste of our good money is birth control, like that silly NuvoRing. It doesn't really matter what you use as long as it's sure to kill sperm. Usually a dusting of cocaine on the gentleman's penis will do. But lacking that, I go with a scrunchy soaked in bug spray. Talk about a warming sensation! Maybe your fool boyfriend will complain that his dick doesn't work for a week after. Tell him that you're just that good!

Of course the cost of these luxury items aren't your only concern. There are other necessary expenses, like the large sums you're forced to spend on your loved ones. Who needs it? I've recently discovered that simply denying to further support my mother has caused her to be transferred from that crappy nursing home to an even crappier state-run facility. Now my monthly "Mom" costs have dropped down to $0. Why doesn't everyone do this?

I took this little maneuver a step further. I pretended that my kids live with my mother instead of me. Once the school calculated her (lack of) income they decided to give my kids free lunch cards. Some of the teachers have even started buying my kids clothes and winter jackets. The savings are so significant, sometimes I'd swear I was made of money!

Speaking of schools, I've gotta mention school fundraisers. They're just a great way collect quick cash after normal business hours. The catalogs and other materials are easy to get your hands on, and your kids don't need to know any better. It's all about "charity", so don't sweat it. None of your neighbors are actually expecting your kid to come through with that $30 can of spicy peanuts, or that $12 roll of Christmas wrapping paper. If they come around asking just convince them that your kid messed up the order because he has mild autism or something.

Mistress of the hunt!

2010-01-07T09:59:00.004-05:00

I've always loved the wilderness! Of course the beach is still my favorite vacation spot, but I also try to set aside a week each year to spend in beautiful Western Colorado. The cool dry air, fresh clean waters, and uneven population ratio of women to men suit me just fine!

My last trip to Colorado started with the usual day of travel that I always dread. To make matters worse, I worked a half day before the flight. It happened to be the day of our office chili cook off contest! I had to sneak into the conference room before I left to steal a few large gulps of all six chili varieties. I don't think the last two had a chance to really cook all the meat! My stomach was churning!

As you can imagine, my fellow first class passengers didn't appreciate my sickening chili farty pants none too much. My body is a finely tuned instrument, but on that afternoon I was playing a symphony of sour notes! But don't get me wrong; I didn't waste good money on First Class tickets! I booked Phil and I in separate seats, then I asked the clerk at our terminal to find us two seats that were together, and he gave us last two seats up front. Thanks again, Terry!

After landing in Albuquerque (and driving three more hours by car) we made it to our rental cabin. But this was no cabin like I've ever seen! This was a big beautiful wood house in a neighborhood of nice homes, nestled in a nice woodsy area! What could be more perfect? I was so excited that I ran straight into the backyard to set up a nice deer blind!

A Deer Blind is basically a couple big pieces of plywood with a small hole cut out of the middle for your gun to go through. Then the whole thing is painted like branches and leaves. It's an ideal set-up for poaching deer in a neighborhood like this, where the animals have never been hunted. Talk about easy meat! With my butchering skills and Phil's taxidermy abilities, we actually made some money on that vacation!

Fishing is another favorite pastime of mine, and Colorado's rainbow trout is as plentiful as it's Fat Tire beer is overrated. Experts like me will tell you to catch your fish with care, and release them back for the benefit of future generations. Then we show up later to catch and keep those same big healthy fish using large nets and minimal effort! They don't call us "the experts" for nothing!

After a week of these activities I always feel relaxed, but also a little worn out. That's why Phil and I spent our last day at the nearby hot springs resort. After drinking some local beer (which seems stronger at those higher altitudes!) we relaxed and fingered each other in almost every hot tub on the premises. I don't know what the secret is, but those healing mineral hot spring waters do wonders for my syphilitic sores, and somehow shrink my hemorrhoids down a little!

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Runnin' thangs!

2009-12-18T10:07:00.005-05:00

My office's director and his district manager have both been fired from our company following a very slow year. While the bigwigs at corporate headquarters decide where to take things next, they've left everything in our branch office up to me. Some folks in my position might go with a "business as usual" approach. Fortunately I'm ambitious enough to realize that this is an opportunity to prove myself and get promoted!

Profits are down, sales are down, and the workload is slow. Our prices are competitive, so I'm not sure what's wrong. What I'd like to do is boost our sales. Unfortunately I know nothing about sales! So I've decided to cut operating costs, which will force me to squeeze maximum productivity out of the few employees who remain. But that's not as easy as it sounds! In fact, it's become a rather depressing game of "divide and conquer"!

I began by drawing out a big chart. I wrote down everyone's name and drew lines connecting who was friends with who, who takes lunches together, and who chats around the coffeemaker. I put a red mark by anyone who I think may have been part of last year's failed unionizing effort. I also made notes on the chart about popularity, niceness, and physical attractiveness.

Then I started managing people out of their jobs. I wrote folks up for every single 30-second tardy. I documented every website they visited that wasn't work-related. I monitored their calls, and rummaged through their desks. I even sent a few people in for "random" drug tests. After only three weeks I'd fired one person out of every identified friendship in the building.

The best part was how I avoided an ugly, newsworthy mass-layoff situation. Instead I spread all the firings out over a month of Fridays. This not only helped our company avoid embarrassment, (as well as expensive severence packages) but it also helped develop a sense of self-preservation and paranoia among my remaining staff. Of course everyone is depressed and worried, and I'm the only one who knows that the firing spree is over!

As of this week I've implemented an office-wide training program focused on the importance of showing company spirit! You should see their faces in these sessions, the way I bring them together by forcing them to smile. No, I'm not just making a special effort to deliberately insult their intelligence! And to prove it I'm giving away free company logo sweatshirts to those who truly embody our company values and attitude! Go team!

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Taking back Christmas!

2009-12-05T12:33:00.006-05:00

I'm tired of Christmas being one big hump and dump, so this year we're doing it differently. I'm gonna to teach my kids the true meaning of Christmas, even if it means a lot of tears and resentment. It's more important to me that they grow up to be decent people. That's the price of good parenting, and I really don't care how much they hate me for it!

For starters, I'm volunteering their asses to work after school at a local nursing home. I know an orderly there who'll pay me $5 per hour cash for the three of them to sing and read to old people. Their duties will also include emptying day-old bed pans and removing the occasional catheter. I'll receive an additional dollar for every hour they spend fishing recyclables out of the dumpster.

As for gifts this year, they might be surprised to receive something more practical than past years. Each of my kids will get either a shoe shining kit, a package of Dryel (home dry cleaning system), or a jar of jewelry cleaner. After they're done whining I'll explain how they can now earn their $2 per week allowance by carefully maintaining my wardrobe.

Now don't worry, because the kids aren't alone in this. My new husband Phil will be learning about the importance of family this year as he spends Christmas Day with my kids. I already told him that I'll be leaving after presents to "visit Mother", but I'm actually going to meet with my secret boyfriend Maurice, who's buying me an 8-ball of coke! That's what I call a "white" Christmas!

I truly feel bad for all you suckers who are spending yet another year in the stupid Christmas rat race. To make things a little easier for you, I have compiled my handy 4-part holiday guide which will help you get most out of the holiday season:

Spreading your holiday cheer!

Christmas shopping made easy!

Quick hints for a Happy Holiday!

Super secret Santa!

If these posts don't get you in the spirit then you really are hopeless.

Ain't nobody happy!

2009-11-12T11:52:00.005-05:00

We have a saying in my house: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!". You won't catch my kids acting the fool around me! I've got those bitches walking on eggshells in this house. Don't get me wrong though...I'm not one of those sadistic moms! I find it's best to take a more passive, creative approach to discipline!

Like when Brandon threw a tantrum a couple months ago because I forgot to send in the money for his class field trip. I told him, "Tough shit!", but he kept on whining. I told him to stop or he'd be sorry. He yelled, "I don't care! you're stupid!" and ran off to slam his bedroom door a few times before locking himself in. I let him stew in there all night.

The next day he was stuck sitting in the school library while the rest of his class when on their trip. Meanwhile I was at home, selling his bike to the overweight drop-out down the street who always bullies Brandon and his friends. Brandon will have to think about what he did every time that kid rides by on his old bike! That's re-enforcement!

Little Jailen is harder to get through to sometimes because she's only 3. Plus she's fairly well behaved, so it's hard to teach her lessons. That's why I use double-reverse psychology. I'll say something like, "Don't eat the candy I have in my underwear drawer!". She replies, "What candy?", and I'm like, "Don't worry about it!".

Later that day, when I catch her in the act, I yell for a minute, but then let her know that I forgive her for disobeying me and going in my room without permission. Of course the next morning she's asking me where all her Dora the Explorer shirts and other stuff have gone to. I know they're all stuffed in the trash, but I just say, "I dunno, maybe God is punishing you!".

My husband Phil isn't safe from my unhappy ass either! Last night I came home and found that he had forgotten to pick up some pre-mixed cocktails for me from the liquor store. I didn't say a word about it. I just took his Jagermeister bottle from the freezer and sipped off it all night while giving him the stink eye. He never even asked me what was wrong!

But I'm sure he remembered the next morning when he stepped his socks into that puddle of water I left around his work boots. And just to be sure we were clear I also dumped vinegar into his Bubba Jug of sweet tea. If he doesn't mention anything by tonight I'm going to wait until he falls asleep and wake him back up with a nice hard flick to the nuts.

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I'm a Vegetarian! (but I eat meat)

2009-11-05T09:43:00.009-05:00

I've been trying to get back in my daughter's good graces lately. She's made it clear that I lost some of her trust during her brief adventure as a runaway. It's been a real uphill battle! Her new thing is that she's decided to become a vegetarian. After reading some of her magazines on the subject, I think this is a hobby I can definitely sink my teeth into!

Of course it's never as easy as just avoiding meat. All that leaves you with is crappy food! So Darla joined a new local vegetarian cooking club. Since I've shown so much enthusiasm for her new found passion, she invited me to be a part of their annual "Harvest Time" potluck. I was so excited that I promised Darla that I'd make a vegetarian version of my grandmother's old world lasagna recipe.

The potluck was a fun idea, and everyone seemed to enjoy my dish. But I wasn't too thrilled with theirs! I don't understand why vegetarians always insist on using so much tofu. And the lentils! And cabbage rolls! Needless to say, I became an instant gas bag. I politely went into the hallway and ripped a long, dirty fart. Suddenly a few young children of the group members ran out of the room and into the center of my fart cloud!

Nearly everyone had helped themselves to a slab of my delicious lasagna. I knew it'd be a hit, but I never expected people to ask for the recipe. Sorry, girls, but it's a family secret! Unfortunately I never did make it to the store before preparing my dish, so I had to substitute the mock ground beef I had planned to use with an old frostbitten package of ground veal.

Well how was I to know that vegetarian's bodies simply "forget" how to digest meat?! The next day they were all chatting on Facebook about how sick they all got. Luckily nobody figured out which dish caused it! Honestly, I haven't had such a laugh since that Summer I worked for that barbecue catering company, when I "accidentally" fed pork hot dogs at a Muslim family's reunion picnic!

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I ain't got all day!

2009-10-21T09:36:00.000-04:00

Earlier this week I went to the cupboard for some Beef-a-roni, but apparently the kids had already eaten the last can. I really had my heart set on it! I was so angry that I yelled "motherfucker!", stomped out of the kitchen, and kicked the living room phone jack right off the wall. It's one of those things we all do impulsively, and regret immediately. Now my foot was hurt, and I needed this damn phone jack fixed!

I grabbed my cell phone and called the phone company. After going through a shit ton of really annoying robotic menus I was finally put in the queue to wait for a representative. I was still kind of mad about the whole thing to be honest. I decided it would be best to lie and say that the phone just went dead. She told me that I had the "protection plan" on my account, so the work would probably be covered.

The technician's visit was scheduled for the next day with an 8am to 12pm window. That meant I had to take off work that morning, but still, a 4-hour window isn't too bad. Since I had the morning off I decided to hit up the Bob Evans for some biscuits and corned beef hash. I returned home around 9:15 and found a note on the door. It stated that I had missed their tech at 8:15 a.m., which means he probably got there right at 8. Ridiculous!

That's when Phil came home because he'd forgotten to take his lunch that morning. He was needed at the job site, but I told him that first he needed to call the phone company and tell them that their tech left and that I had been waiting since 7am. While talking to the representative, he didn't sound all that convincing. So I yelled, "Tell them that I saw the truck driving off!". This went on for a few more minutes until I got fed up and took the phone from him.

I bitched at the rep for a few minutes, and I claimed that the tech never knocked. The rep said, "Maybe you didn't hear him, or maybe he didn't see the doorbell.". I yelled, "I don't have a doorbell, smart ass!". Then the rep put me on hold. He came back a few minutes later to tell me that he had spoken with the supervisor and that my technician would add me on as his last job of the day.

Now I had an afternoon to kill, so I drove to O'Charley's and drank a bunch of beers. I got home by around 4:45pm, and the tech was just pulling up. I said, "It's about time!". He said, "For your information I was here at 8:15 this morning for your appointment. Now I'll be stuck here when I should be driving my son to his basketball game." I told him that I don't care about all that and brought him inside.

He inspected the damage and advised me that there would be a charge to fix it, because accidental damage wasn't covered under the plan. I got all up in his face, poking him in his chest and yelling about how I refused to pay and how ridiculous this whole thing was. He quietly walked out, got in his van, and began to drive off. I ran out after him, and threw the broken phone jack at the back of his van. It missed and landed in the street. This whole experience just goes to show that good customer service is dead!

The prodigal daughter!

2009-10-16T08:21:00.003-04:00

Darla has finally returned! She's been gone since April, when she ran away from home. Apparently she got her fill of the "real world", and has come crawling back for some sense of normalcy. Even though she's a woman of sixteen now, I was still a bit worried for her this whole time. After hearing about all that she's been through I can't say that I blame her!

Apparently she left town with some wolf enthusiast who drives a 12-year-old Geo Metro. He had promised to take her to Humbolt County, California, but the car broke down somewhere in the Mid-West. They went for help, but ended up getting stranded with a commune of paranoid, drug addicted young hippies. They let Darla's friend go, but made her stay because they thought her pregnancy was suspicious.

While living as their captive, Darla was still able to sneak to a phone every now and then. Unfortunately I was ignoring her voicemails. She was scared and feeling sick from all the stress and homemade soy milk they were giving her, but none of them would let her leave "the farm" to visit a doctor. She escaped five months later by hitch hiking from the edge of the woods.

She immediately checked into a Catholic hospital where they discovered that she had miscarried three months earlier. They were kind enough to remove the calcified remains of the fetus despite Darla's lack of medical insurance. She signed a release form, which is too bad, because the procedure has rendered her sterile. I told her she should still sue those bastards! She'd be set for life!

From there she had to take whatever charity should could find until she finally made it home. But now what's she going to do? She's a dropout with no marketable skills and no baby to claim for welfare, or to use to get checks from a man. I'm trying to convince her to be practical about this, but she's reluctant to take my advice. All I'm saying is that she'll make a decent regular income if she'd consider getting all her teeth pulled. Of course little miss "woman of the world" thinks I'm wrong about that too.

I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for all this. I mean, I didn't stop her from leaving, and I never tried to find her after she left. I also ignored ten letters and at least twenty voicemails over the course of the last several months. And on some of those messages she was downright begging me to help her get home. But I knew deep down that she wouldn't have learned her lesson until she found her way home alone, the hard way.

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Embarrassing the kids!

2009-10-09T09:32:00.004-04:00

My damn kids love to accuse me of embarrassing them. It's either my clothes, the way I discipline them in public, or the way I act in front of other parents at school events. I know I do it, but what can I do? Moms are never "cool". They weren't cool even when I was a kid! It's not that I don't try! But nothing I do ever good enough for them, so why do I bother? Pure optimism, I guess.

Back when Darla was just in second grade she started peeing the bed again. Morning after morning I had to begin my day by throwing her sheets in the wash. Enough was enough! I told her that if she wet the bed again I was going to hang her pee-soaked underwear outside for all the kids on the bus to see. The next day I did just that. Needless to say, she stopped wetting after that. I'm not sure if she ever forgave me, but it worked! So what's the harm?

My 9 year old, Brandon, is an even bigger bitch about the way I treat him in front of his friends. I tried to be cool at the JV football game by handing loose cigarettes out to all his little buddies, but apparently they all thought that was weird. Then I wore a slutty top to the "parents n' kids field day", but all the children laughed at my flopping breasts, which made Brandon cry. Then he got mad at the fair because I washed his face off by licking it clean. Well how else does he expect me to remove all that cotton candy residue?

Even little Jailen is getting in on this foolishness. She thinks her three-year-old ass is too big for that stroller. And yeah, she is. She's a little porker to be quite honest. But I don't strap her into the stroller for my benefit. It's so she doesn't run around and get lost! The last time I let her walk on her own she ended up following the wrong mother's ass for several minutes before looking up, realizing it wasn't me, and screaming at the poor women until security had to be called to locate me. Of course I was trying on clothes, so I couldn't even get up there for another fifteen minutes!

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I want the gold, sucka!

2009-09-29T10:12:00.011-04:00

All the girls at my work are into running and fitness. They've spent the entire Summer talking about all the marathons and triathlons they've participate in this year. I'm sick of hearing about it! That's why I decided to do a little talking of my own, by bringing in a shiny gold medal! I got online and found a little-known 5k race where I could be assured of an easy win.

The kids and I showed up a little late. The crowd was very small, maybe 250 people. We were told that the race was being held to raise funds for some really rare form of cancer. They only had one lady there who actually had the disease! She introduced herself and tried to sell us a raffle ticket for a chance to win a cute beaded anklet her daughter had made.

I started looking around at the competition. The only two I really had to worry about were this old guy who was really fit for his age, and some dude from Kenya. I pointed him out to Brandon, who nodded back at me nervously. Meanwhile, little Jailen was hiding under the raffle table trying to swipe that bracelet. I tell ya, the kid has taste!

The lady with cancer gave a small speech, and people started to get teary eyed. Then a preacher came up and lead everyone in a prayer. I took the opportunity to sneak off towards the park bathrooms. Then I quickly ducked down into the woods. Everybody said, "amen", and they lined up to start the race. I could see the first 200 yards of the race from my vantage point. They fired the starter pistol and the runners took off.

At about 120 yards I could see my little Brandon leading the crowd at full sprint! That's when he took his dive, causing our Kenyan friend to trip over him and slam into the ground. The fit old guy stopped to help them up, while the crowd ran past. The beauty of this maneuver was that these two would no longer have any idea who was in front of them in the race!

After about 18 minutes I could see the old man and the Kenyan making their way back through the entrance to the neighborhood. They were out in front again! I reached into my bag and opened up the water bottle full of liquid feces that I'd prepared. I knew I would need to appear as though I'd truly pushed myself to the limit! It was now or never!

I poured the whole thing down the back of my running shorts and took off like a maniac, straight out of the woods and towards the finish. My timing was perfect. As soon as I hit my stride I looked back and saw the guys making it around the turn, just as I was heading into the last curve. I could see the whole crowd going nuts as I hauled my out-of-shape ass all the way to the finish!

The feeling of winning was just incredible! Everyone was amazed at my time of 20 minutes 45 seconds. The lady with cancer was so moved by my win that she ran up and hugged me, despite my crap covered legs! The Kenyan and the old man looked confused and a little bit pissed. The walkers finally made it back, and the organizers called everyone in to announce the winners.

They awarded me a gold medal and a handy $200 Visa check card. I thanked them and stepped back into the crowd. Jailen and I grabbed our stuff and headed to the car. We found Brandon lying down in the back seat. He had 2 fully bruised legs and a size 12 footprint on the side of his head. That little man earned himself a nice big bowl of ice cream for being such a team player!

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Let me ride!

2009-09-21T11:32:00.012-04:00

Phil has been making good money by contracting work out on some large-scale plumbing jobs. I guess that's why he thought it would be okay to trade in his 1986 Monte Carlo towards the purchase of a gently used Dodge Caliber (without even telling me!). The Caliber only has 12,000 miles on it, which made it way cheaper than a new one. This car is hot!

The problem is that maybe this car is a little too hot! For one thing, it makes my car look like shit. It's totally unfair that he should have a better car than mine. It also makes Phil a little too proud. And you know how those home wrecking bitches will try to get with him just because they like his car. It's not that I don't trust Phil. I just don't trust them bitches!

So last Tuesday I asked Phil if I could drive his Caliber to work. I could tell he didn't want me to, but he let me do it anyway. I guess he didn't get the hint that he was never going to drive this car again unless I'm riding in the passenger seat. If he's going to be driving to job sites all day then he can do it in my ex-husband's old piece of shit Mercury Cougar. It's already beat up, and it gets better gas mileage!

Phil realized by Thursday that I've taken his car as my own. He's been pouting like a child all weekend. I tried to tell him that he should go buy himself another car if he hates the Cougar so much, but I know he can't afford another car payment. Not on top of the payments for this house he bought me, and I'm sure he's still making payments on that ring.

Yes, I could probably afford to buy a new car for myself, but I told Phil before we got married that what's mine is MINE! One of the things I learned from my first marriage is that divorces can happen to anyone. No matter what happens, I will always be in a position to take proper care of me and my kids. Having this trustworthy new vehicle is just one more way that I can prepare for the worst.

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My big fat rummage sale!

2009-09-15T09:02:00.009-04:00

I've been out posting signs all over the neighborhood for our yard sale this Saturday. There's stuff for all ages, including many one-of-a-kind items! Plus the kids will be selling refreshments. I don't want them messing up the kitchen making lemonade, so instead we're gonna open the cap on some 3-liters tonight and just sell flat soda as "orangeade". Yum!

Hopefully that fun activity will take their minds off the fact that I'm selling most of their toys. I decided last weekend that anything they didn't play with between Saturday and Sunday was going in the sale next week. They won't know it until they see it all set up on the tables. I'm also selling the stupid papasan chair they love so much, because I'm sick of cleaning our cat's shit out of the middle of the cushion.

Speaking of kids, there are other items in the sale that they probably won't miss. Like Jailen's old crib that lost a couple of the original screws and clips. For some reason that thing snaps shut like rat trap and collapses on top of itself as soon as you put more than 10 pounds of weight inside of it. There was a still a baby blanket trapped inside that I had to remove before I could reassemble the thing.

I've also got some stuff for the guys. Like my ex-husbands record albums, and his military stuff. I had told him that I threw all his things out, but no way! That shit's collectible! I'm also getting rid of my new husband's collection of novelty cologne bottles. He's got a motorcycle one, one shaped like a gun, and even one like a sexy lady! He loves those bottles...but I guess if he loves them so much then he shouldn't be going away to see a football game this weekend!

Last but not least, I'm selling all the crap that the nursing home sent over when my aunt died. I'm asking a very fair price on the grocery bag full of used catheters, and the raised toilet seat cushion (due to a few inches of exposed foam through a break in the seam). I've also got her high-end shower chair up for grabs. It only has a few dark stains on the seat, and one of the wheels keeps popping off. It's a nice chair, especially at this price. Nobody has to know that she died on it!

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Strangers in the night!

2009-09-09T09:23:00.004-04:00

Last night I visited Empire, a local bar that's popular with the young people. It's more crowded than usual because VCU is back in session. I only meant to have a couple drinks, but ended up finishing off their last bottle of Bushmill's, along with a couple glasses of hard cider. I headed for the restroom, but it was full, so I stepped outside to pop a squat.

That's when I noticed this good lookin' dude outside the Mediterranean restaurant across the street. He looked pretty young, but had this scary face tattoo, and the piercing eyes of a violent sociopath. After gawking at a group of young college girls he turned his glance towards me. I must admit that after a moment of curious eye contact I was totally hooked!

He followed me into the alley and watched me pee. Then we split the plastic flask of Bowman's vodka that I keep in my purse for emergencies. He broke out a pipe with some meth and we got really tore up. He confessed that he had just gotten out of prison, and only had that face tattoo to keep men from hitting on him in the showers. He dared me to kiss him. I did. Then I dared him to punch the next person who walked by.

From there we kept making dares, and it got really funny. He dared me to grab somebody's ass. I jumped out and grabbed the ass of some poor freshman. And I don't mean a harmless cheek squeeze. I'm talking about a deep grab, with the middle finger hooked towards the balls and everything! That poor boy squealed and ran off swearing like a sailor!

We spent the next hour like that, harassing kids and making bets. I got him to start asking people for change, and some of them actually gave him money! Even the people who turned him down were nice about it. But there was this one kid that said no kind of rudely, and we could tell he had money. We gave him a world of shit, and even followed him up into the student parking deck, yelling and threatening him.

It's funny now, because I never asked this strange man's name, but the added mystery started to make me wonder about the guy. He asked me for a ride, which was fine, but then kept implying that I should take him home with me. I had no intention of doing that, but I made him think that I would. I gave him a couple of pills that I told him were ecstasy, but actually they were these hardcore tranquilizers that I bought from some sketchy bitch at the Greyhound bus station.

So we're riding in the car, and suddenly he pulls out an envelope of money that the prison gave him when he was released. It contained a couple hundred dollars. He said I could have all of it if I slept with him. I smiled and winked. That's when he passed out, face first into the dashboard. I drove on to a quiet side road, emptied his pockets, undressed him, and rolled him into the ditch. This was not easy for me to do, because he was a heavy little fucker, and I could have used the sex.

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I do it my way!

2009-09-02T13:39:00.009-04:00

We only get one life to live. Some of you may be satisfied with whatever the lunch lady of fate slops out onto your tray, but I'm not. I demand the best, and I get it! I don't wait around for the good things in life. I take what I want! That's because unlike y'all, I have a backbone! Y'all probably think I'm selfish. But if life isn't all about me then why the heck did God put me smack in the middle of it?

Picture a restaurant at closing. Some of y'all would be too timid to enter, but not me. I'll walk right up in that bitch. I'll even tell the manager to stop all the sweeping and wiping off of tables because it's annoying. Then I'll order up a massive breakfast platter, and demand that each item be served on a different plate. Sure, I may get some attitude, but they only have themselves to blame for not locking the doors!

Another thing I won't fool with is crowded spaces, like airplanes, or DMV waiting rooms. So I make myself comfortable by sitting with my knees spread wide apart, and by taking over both armrests. I'm also not going to hold my gas, or cover my mouth when I cough. The sole purpose of a cough is to project germs as far away as possible, so to cover my mouth would be counter productive. It's not my fault the place is so crowded!

I even apply this attitude towards my driving. I've actually memorized the lights on my morning commute, so it's my pleasure to blare the horn at everyone about 10 milliseconds before the light turns green. And for some reason I always have to spit, and it's nasty to swallow it. So when I'm at a red light or stop sign I like to open the door and spit out on the ground. It's also a good time to pour out any unwanted beverages!

I'm a very busy woman. So yeah, I take parking spaces even if other people are already waiting for them. I also won't hesitate to take up two spaces. I do not need some fool dinging my Mercury Cougar! That extra space is useful too, because when I'm done with my shopping cart I can just wedge it into the side of the car next to me. And I can keep my door open all the way when I'm dumping out my ash tray, (and all those empty packs)!

This last bit isn't my wildest confession, but I'll tell you about it anyway. I always throw my trash into recycling bins. It's not that I hate the environment, I just hate the way trash cans stink! And if I can't find a recycling bin on the curb for Muffin's poop bag, I wait for the first barking dog we see and throw the bag into its yard. It's actually pretty cool because some of 'em will catch the bag in mid-air!

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Roommates suck!

2009-08-27T09:23:00.003-04:00

I'm going to be honest. I wasn't ready when I had my first baby. Fortunately my mother was very cool about it. So yeah, I left the baby with her for a few months, and found a place to stay where I could squeeze a few more months of enjoyment out of my own youth before being saddled with a screaming, puking, shit-caked infant. Can you blame me?

I found a nice cheap room for rent in the classifieds. It was in a house owned by a young nurse named Ellen. I paid her a small deposit and moved in without incident. For the first night we got along great! We talked about guys and shared a nice bottle of wine. But soon, like most roommates, we began to have our differences.

For one thing, the bitch had a cat, and I did not want that thing getting on my bed. I would spray it all over with nasty cherry air freshener whenever it came anywhere near my bedroom. Ellen asked me to stop, and to quit wearing her clothes, and eating her snacks. She also asked me to stop telling callers that she was out getting an abortion. Well I'm sorry, but I wasn't trying to be her answering machine!

She complained about me walking around the place naked while her friends were visiting. That was just silly, because this big ol' bush covers up my lady business completely! She would also bitch about me not paying for my part of the utilities, but they were all in her name, so why the hell should I be paying them? I wasn't using that much electricity anyway (other than the dope I was growing in my closet!)

But our biggest problem was that my room was right above hers, and she worked a day shift. She couldn't stand the fact that I was free to stay up late dancing and fucking and fighting while she had to go to bed early. She also seemed jealous of my 50-year-old sugar daddy, who paid all my shit so that I wouldn't have to work.

She finally had enough after returning from her uncle's funeral out of state. She was supposed to be gone all weekend, so I threw this huge rager of a party. At about midnight she came storming up in there and kicked everybody out. Then, as she was telling me off, she walked in her room and found three guys banging a fat hooker on her bed. To make matters worse, the hooker's pimp was sitting in her papasan chair, watching.

Eventually I just gave in to her self-righteous demands and made arrangements to move out. But before I left I made a point of letting her stupid "indoor" cat out the back door. Then I dumped its litter box out into her underwear drawer. And finally, to make sure there was no misunderstanding, I smashed a large jar of kim chee against her headboard, which sent hunks of fermented cabbage and shards of broken glass all over the top of her pillows and bedspread.

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Men can't do anything right!

2009-08-20T10:38:00.012-04:00

Getting the kids ready each morning is a huge pain. That's why I like to leave for work before they get up. I enjoy a leisurely breakfast somewhere, or just surf the net at my desk until my shift. That leaves my new husband Phil to wake the kids, get them washed, dressed, and fed before he leaves for work. Of course, being a man, he does a pretty crummy job!

I don't cater to my kids, but it would be nice if Phil would, because he's supposed to be building a relationship with them. They have a hard enough time showing him respect, especially with the way he makes me berate him all the time. So I think the least he could do is pick them up some McDonald's breakfast when they ask for it, or to drive them to school so they don't have to ride the stupid bus.

Phil tries to be the man of the house, but it's hard. I just can't stand the way little Jailen cries when he gets stern with her. That's why I make him plead with her to be good instead. Of course if it was me I'd just let her tantrums run their course. Like at nice restaurant, I'm not gonna waste my time trying to coax a screaming child out from under the table.

Phil would rather waste money with babysitters. I think he's just being selfish, because he doesn't want to deal with my kids all the time. But if he really loves me then he should love my children's tantrums too! Men just can't understand the mentality of a mother who has spent some time being single. He needs to learn that he's expendable. Or, as I always like to say: "It's me and my kids against the world!".

It's not just with the kids though. Phil screws everything else up too! The other day he broke out the grill and cooked up some hot dogs. I know he did this because I'm always saying how much I love grilled meats. But we had run out of buns, and that dumb fucker tried to get me to eat my hot dog on a folded piece of white bread! I just threw it on the floor, and went to Outback Steakhouse...alone!

And sometimes Phil tries to do his own thing without asking me first. Like he'll go get a beer with his coworkers, and I don't know about it until I get home and hear his message on the machine. Then he tries to escape to the bathroom when he gets back, so I have to yell at him through the door. He tries to act surprised at my anger, but he knows what he did! He doesn't need to be going out with his stupid friends! He knows he needs to get home and rub these feet!

The other night I really ripped his ass about how much he annoys me. I told him that I'm sick of how he empties the dishwasher so loudly. And how he's always watching TV shows that I don't like. Then I told him that our sex is too gentle, and that he needs to be more of a man. I mean Christ, we're married! I shouldn't have to tell him what I like!

Phil tried to make it all up to me by apologizing. He even brought me a lovely single red rose. That was the last straw, because he knows that I only like roses that are dipped in gold like the ones they sell in the SkyMall catalog. Other times he's tried to make me happy by buying me jewelry, or clothes that make me look my age. But why? I've made it abundantly clear that I prefer to get clothes from Forever 21.
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Hazing the new guy!

2009-08-14T09:27:00.003-04:00

My company just hired a new facilities manager for our building. Mr. Durwood Walsh is 62 years old, and I'm told that he's had a difficult time finding work. He was planning to retire with his wife, but that was before his old company laid him off, and his 401k lost so much in the recession. I'm glad our company gave him a chance. In light of his situation, I decided to put him through his week of hazing in secret, so as not to embarrass him.

On Monday I introduced myself. Mr. Walsh was very pleasant and personable. While he took the time to stop and meet everyone else, I snuck outside and laid a nice thick slice of cheap bologna on the hood of his car. Later that morning he spent his break time fixing our copier, which was all jammed up with copier paper. That's was nice because it's actually my job. While he was busy with that I took the opportunity to empty my Ped-Egg out on top of his keyboard.

On Tuesday he arrived to discover that "someone" had let all the air out of his trusty hemorrhoid cushion. When he stopped in to the break room for coffee I went over to his desk and shredded all the forms that HR gave him to fill out. Later that day he discovered some mysterious Pop Tart crusts stuffed up into his stapler. And he's been getting a lot of calls from a privatized number, but the caller keeps hanging up as soon as he answers his phone. Who on Earth could it be?

On Wednesday I pretended that my computer wasn't working so I had to use the vacant desk next to Durwood's. I spend the entire day distracting him with annoying sounds. I used my speakerphone to make all my calls with, wore my my noisiest bracelets, and popped and smacked my gum. I clicked my pen, burped, and loudly cleared my throat as often as possible. I also spent 20 minutes slurping the bottom of a milkshake.

On Thursday he called in sick. That's probably because I'm just getting over a flu, and I've been coughing on his stuff all week, especially his jacket. Now I hear from our director that Durwood hasn't been sick in a very long time, and this virus has hit him so hard that he had to be hospitalized! As of his call-in this morning he thinks his wife may be coming down with it too. The really funny thing is that his company insurance doesn't kick in for another 6 months. Still, it's a small price to pay for being part of the team!

_

Wild Virginia!

2009-08-11T09:09:00.006-04:00

We don't always think about it here in Richmond, but take a short drive West and you'll discover that our fine state is mostly a big beautiful wilderness. There are mountains to climb, rivers to raft, and a variety of animals to feast upon. Unfortunately, our relationship with God's creatures isn't always so fruitful!

I'll never forget the time I used Phil's truck to take our trash to an unlocked dumpster. I stopped off for some coffee at a diner just out of town. While stirring my drink I noticed a couple of greedy crows who were tearing the trash bags in the back of the truck. I snuck out the side of the building and began to open fire with my handgun (don't worry, it shoots copper pellets!).

I managed to hit one of the crows, but it didn't die. Instead it started flapping around and crying bloody murder! For some reason that caused another half dozen crows to show up out of nowhere, and they were all screeching like crazy! Then some people in the diner began looking and pointing. I had no choice but to get in the truck and take off, with a trail of garbage blowing out of the truck behind me!

Then there was our weekend camping trip last Spring. I borrowed a truck cab from a friend so Phil and I could take the kids to spend a weekend in Pennsylvania. The cab had been sitting out in a big pile of dry leaves since last year. We threw the cab on, put the kids in the back, and headed out. They ended up having to take their shoes off so they could use 'em to crush all the spiders that came pouring out of that truck cab!

Come to find out, these were actually Brown Recluse spiders! These things have managed to infest not only the truck, but the kid's bedrooms as well. Brandon and little Jailen are now covered in black, gaping spider bites. I'm sure they'll be a real hit at school this season with these dark rotting holes on 75% of their bodies. It's also a pain for me because the holes must be stuffed with iodine soaked gauze at all times!

My final wildlife adventure involved a solo drunken drive home from a bar out in the county. After three rounds of Coal Miner's daughter at the Karaoke machine I was finally sloppy enough to call it quits. On one of the windy back roads I managed to hit something with the van. I watched as the force of impact launched it's lifeless body out into the woods. I have no idea what kind of animal I hit, because all that was left on the ground was some bloody hair and a gold filling.

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Marijuana fun!

2009-07-30T09:18:00.009-04:00

I received a lot of angry comments on my post about marijuana law, so I'm taking this opportunity to clarify my position. Yes, I believe that marijuana should be illegal. My political beliefs have nothing to do with my constant use of the drug. The fact is, smoking weed is a whole lot of fun, and I'm gonna tell y'all why!

Smoking marijuana doubles the effects of alcohol. Any pussy can drive drunk. But are you brave enough to smoke a bowl before taking that wheel? This doubling effect is especially useful when I'm paying full price for drinks, like at a comedy club. After three shots in the parking lot and a toke in the bathroom I get hammered enough to heckle comedians to tears!

Another good thing about smoking weed is the way it inspires us to gorge ourselves with junk food. There are three levels of this compulsion. There's the "eat an entire goddamn bag of Doritos" level. There's the Cici's Pizza/Golden Corral "binge until you can't eat or poop for a week" level. And for advanced users, there's the level where you roll around on a ghetto seafood buffet, gorging yourself like a maggot in a hospital dumpster!

Marijuana is also great just for entertainment purposes. Like when I blow a fat bong hit in the cat's face. The kids think it's hilarious when she gets all paranoid and scratches at their legs! And we had a great time putting a hot roach out on the dashboard of our neighbor's truck, just after his son returned home with it. Poor kid had to ride the bus for the rest of the year!

Smoking pot constantly is an easy road to a happier life. It has helped me to effectively bury my emotions for years at a time. I'm thankful for the safe emotional distance it has created between me and my needy-ass family. And speaking of family, I should add that marijuana also makes boring things more enjoyable, and enjoyable things laughably boring. But who cares, because I won't remember any of it anyway!

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Might makes right!

2009-07-27T11:22:00.006-04:00

My ex-husband Kevin and I always had a feisty relationship. He learned early on that when I'm angry I can only communicate through loud swearing and insults. I berated him, shoved him, even threw things at his head as he walked out the door. But no matter how much I pushed him, I never got him to resort to violence. Not even when I yelled, "A real man would fight back!".

During our separation he ended up moving into his mother's house. He had to sleep in his old childhood room, with the same old crappy twin bed and everything. Each night we would fight on the phone, and I'd continually threaten him until I got my way. But I guess I went too far the night that I threatened to destroy all our family photos!

Kevin showed up at the house the following day and got the kids to let him in. Then he went to the closet and collected our box of photos for safe keeping. I walked in and caught him. I ran up and tried to grab the box. He turned, dodged me, and headed for the door. I jumped on his back and tried to choke him, but I fell off him and banged my ankle on the door jamb.

He tried to help me up, but I told him to just take the pictures and go home. Then I called the cops and told them that he had shoved me down in front of my kids. I just wanted to give Kevin a scare. I had no idea how seriously the police took these things! Within an hour they were dragging him out of his mother's house in front of all her neighbors, some of whom she has known for 30 years!

I decided that it had gone far enough, so I called the arresting officer and told him the truth. He wouldn't listen! He said that domestic violence cases were handled differently, and that I'd have to speak on Kevin's behalf at his court date. Unfortunately my divorce attorney advised against it. Poor Kevin ended up in jail for three months, and I ended up with custody of the kids. So in that sense it all worked out.

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I'm a naughty babysitter!

2009-07-21T09:58:00.007-04:00

On the rare occasion that I have nothing to do, I like to earn extra cash by babysitting. Did you know that the going rate starts at $5 per hour per child? And it's untaxed! There's no reason to sit home drinking with my stupid kids running around when I could be getting paid good money to do the same thing at someone else's home with their stupid kids!

The kids aren't mine, so I'm not going to be a bitch. I let 'em do whatever the hell they want. And they always want to do what their parents won't let them. So I send them to play in the garage, or let them wrestle a couple of stray dogs in the back yard. While they're occupied with that, I'm taking cash and large coins from their piggy banks, or filling a bag with clothes that might fit my kids.

Since a babysitter isn't a parent, it's okay cut deals with the little fools. I always tell them that I don't want any fuss at bedtime, so I'll let them stay up 15 minutes later if they agree to not give me trouble. What they don't know is that I already turned the clocks ahead an hour, so now I have 45 extra minutes to enjoy myself before their parents get home!

It's when the kids go to sleep that babysitters really get to work. Sometimes you only have a couple hours to get everything done. You've got to eat all the good snacks, and put all the CDs and DVDs you want into the trunk of your car. It also takes time to rifle through their documents and drawers looking for savings bonds and gift certificates. When that's done I spend the rest of the time getting off with the parent's sex toys. And no, I don't bother washing them off when I'm done.

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Y'all need to go through me!

2009-07-16T09:25:00.009-04:00

I work for one of the few Richmond companies that's actually hiring right now, yet our stupid HR guy decided to up and quit! Since I already have some experience in these matters, I've been tasked with not only finding his replacement, but also with hiring four more clerks to keep up with all the new accounts. It's a tall order, but that doesn't mean it can't be fun!

I posted the ad on the web, and 80 nice printed resumes were on my desk by the end of the next day. This is as many as I can handle. We actually received more than that, but everyone who sent one in digital format was given an auto-reply that their resume was infected with a computer virus and was deleted. The ad will be online for another week. Every resume I receive after the first batch goes straight into the trash.

Rather than comb through that first batch of resumes I just made our front desk girl contact them all to set up interviews. I decided right off the bat that everyone who got a ride from someone or took a bus to the interview was automatically out of consideration. The appointments were scheduled for after 9 in the morning, so everyone was forced to park and walk in from the very back of the lot (on some of the hottest days of the year).

Upon arrival, each candidate was led into a small, humid, unventilated supply room to fill out a useless questionnaire consisting of about 400 questions. They got 30 minutes to fill it out, even though it takes at least an hour. These questionnaires were then collected, brought into my office, and disposed of. I made them all wait another 20 minutes while I searched for embarrassing photos of them on the Internet.

Then the applicants got a three minute interview with me. I asked them an offbeat question, like, "Can you tell me about something you've done that you're ashamed of?". Then I spent the rest of the time talking about myself or about how great their job will be here at our company. Once that was over they were sent on their way, and I had the secretary call each of them back for a second interview.

When they show up for the second time they'll be told that I couldn't make it in and that we'll have to reschedule. They will never, ever be called back. Not even when they call in a couple days later to inquire. All the resumes will be shredded. I've decided to give the HR job to my bitchy best friend Bethany so I'll have someone to hang out with at work.

Bethany is the perfect choice because she's got a bunch of friends and family members down in Chesterfield County that she can place in those clerk positions. They really need the work. Most of them haven't been able to hold down a job for more than two weeks at a time! If they're as lazy as I think they'll be then our existing clerks are going to need to step it up, because there's a ton of work to do around here!

Festival freakout!

2009-07-10T09:12:00.002-04:00

It's that time again. That time of the Summer when I ditch my kids with whatever guy I'm seeing and head out to one of the area's many music festivals! But making the most of a festival isn't always as easy as dropping Ecstasy and letting a gang of high school burnouts have their way with you. Sometimes you need a more comprehensive plan!

Day 1:

If you're like me, you hate hippies, because they're the biggest hypocrite conformists out there. Unfortunately you've got to play the game if you want to move about undetected! So on the first night you should sneak into someone's unlocked car and steal a pair of ratty Birkenstocks, and maybe one of those shapeless hippie girl tops made out of an old pillow case.

It also helps if you stop washing until you reek like cumin and balls. Your toenails should resemble barbecue Frito's, and you should start speaking like a 9th grade dropout. Feel free to wear the same underwear and tampon all weekend. And hairy-ass Venus fly trap armpits are optional, but you've already let yourself go this far, so why not?

Now that you look like shit, you're ready to start making moves. There's a ton of great drugs to be bought, and they don't come cheap! So start stacking cash by selling fake hits of acid and dried non-hallucinogenic mushrooms. Stick with the squares. They don't have a clue, and they've actually got money. Then use your profits to buy everything you can get your hands on, because by tomorrow the drug supplies will become extremely limited!

Day 2:

Things are going to start getting strange. You'll probably be woken up by some obnoxious shithead who's banging on a dumpster with a hammer or something. You've spent all but your last $5 on nitrous balloons, and you've got about a dime bag left in your pocket. It rained hard the night before, so everything is muddy and ruined. The portable toilets are now full-to-bursting with human excrement.

Now's the time to show your displeasure to the folks who planned this stupid festival. So squat and piss right in front of people. If you have to shit, use a stranger's tent. Find a group of college senior dickheads who look more refreshed than anybody because they showed up in an RV. Cut out the RV's electrical system and deflate it's tires.

At night you can have fun by starting a bonfire. Feed the flames by tossing random people's backpacks and sleeping bags in when nobody's looking. Or heat up a marshmallow until it's burnt and flaming and whip it into a dense group of dreadlocked white kids. If things settle down too much you can always rat some people out to the local cops, (who always seem to be prowling around at events like this).

Day 3:

Wake up late, break out your emergency jug of Bowman's vodka, and get drunk. I'm talking "beat your grandmother" drunk. Then spend the morning heckling no-name bands, dancing like a violent asshole, and getting sun poisoning. Pass out on the way to your tent and wake up an hour later lying face down in a muddy tire track, or on a discarded towel that somebody threw up in. Then find your car, take a handful of trucker speed, and drive home like an escaped mental patient.

Politically corrected!

2009-06-30T09:18:00.006-04:00

I was in my first week of community college when I learned the true nature of political correctness. It was in photography 101, my only elective. We were assigned an open project so the teacher could get a feel for our talent. My photo was a rich black and white of a beautiful teenage Latina. It was titled, "Shouldn't you be pregnant by now?". I thought it made a real statement.

When it was my turn I had to stand up in front of everyone, present my photo, and then listen to the other students criticize it. After a fairly awkward silence, this guy Mike said, "I think it's offensive!". The teacher asked him to explain. Mike continued, "It's based on an unflattering stereotype." I didn't say a word, even though the prick had completely missed the point.

I decided I would teach him a lesson, but I wasn't sure exactly how. So I followed him out of class and down through the hall. There was a sudden rush of students out of the nearby classrooms, and the hallway became cramped with an ass-to-elbow density of kids. That's when Mike got distracted, then looked down to see a girl who had apparently fallen to her knees.

Afraid that she'd be crushed by the mob, he swiftly crouched and lifted her torso up from behind by her armpits. I saw what was happening as I passed them. I laughed out loud and snapped a quick picture. The girl wiggled and screamed, "Put me down!". Still supporting her, Mike looked down with a puzzled expression to discover that she had never fallen at all. She was a little person.

Placing her down, Mike was clearly mortified by what he had done. The girl just stormed off into the crowd, so he didn't even get a chance to apologize. That's when I ran my ass back to the darkroom and developed the photo. Then it was straight to the library photocopier to put together some petition posters, which claimed that Mike had picked this nice girl up just to mock her in front of everyone.

By the end of that next week the petition to remove Mike from our campus had been signed by over half the student body. The school didn't even have time to issue a response before Mike just up and left. Apparently he had been getting shoved and threatened all week long. I'm not sure he even needed any further education after that. I had giving him the schooling of a lifetime.

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You can't handle the tip!

2009-06-25T09:18:00.009-04:00

Every so often the subject of tipping etiquette comes up, and the "experts" who respond always seem to be members of the service industry. So of course they tell you to tip a minimum of 20%. You can ask a hooker what they think is fair for a dry hand job and they're gonna tell you $20. But you could probably negotiate a wet one at last call in exchange for a $6 Long Island Iced Tea!

And don't even get me started on all the well paid folks out there who think they deserve a tip. I will never tip salon employees, clerks, or cabbies. These jerks make plenty of money, and shouldn't be demanding a handout for the job they were paid to do! Bartenders and servers, on the other hand, make like $2 per hour, and therefor deserve some consideration.

Still, some servers deserve absolutely nothing. But rather than stiff them I think you're better off leaving them an insulting amount. Like this one steak place we visited in downtown Richmond. My family walked in and were seated quickly. I had to make an trip to the bathroom, so I broke off from the group on the way to our table. On my way back I happened to overhear two waiters talking at the back.

One of them said that he recognized "that bitch". Another one said "Ugh, I know. She's worse than the Canadians!" Which I thought was weird because we don't get a lot of Canadian tourists around here. Then a waitress, who had also overheard them, said, "That's what you guys get for expecting the worst!" and she offered to take our table.

I walked around the dining room so as not to be seen, and the waitress arrived to take our drink orders. She was smiling, but I detected some sort of contempt in her eyes. I admit that she kept up with our constant demands for more water and lemons (to make our own lemonade!) and tarter sauce. But somehow I just knew that she was condescending me, if only on a subconscious level.

I didn't want her to think that I was too dense to notice, so when we were done I left her a dime as a tip. Then we walked out nice and slow so I could see her face. She picked it up off the table and stormed off. Apparently the manager decided to take up for her, because he chased us out into the parking lot yelling, "Excuse me! You forgot your dime!". I faked surprise and embarrassment, then slapped him on his mouth when he got close.

Of course sometimes you get really good service, like a bartender who slips you free drinks, or a waitress who forgets to charge you for something. In that case I'll tip as much as 10%, plus I'll leave them a little treat, like a Ricola lozenge, or an old lighter that still has some juice in it. If the waiter is fun and has a good personality I might even play a silly trick by laying their tip in something wet, or hiding it in the salt shaker.

When it comes to actual tipping amounts, here are my own guidelines:

Food: 50 cents per person. Subtract 10 cents for every item that isn't as good as you could have made at home, and another 20 cents for every minute you have to wait for something that you spontaneously desire at any given moment.

Drinks: 10 cents for opening a bottle or pouring a draft. 25 cents for mixed drinks, a pitcher of beer, or a bucket of bottles.

Takeout: Nothing. In fact, go ahead and swipe a buck or two from the tip jar when the cashier has her back turned to bag up your order from the kitchen.

There's one last thing to do before you lay that tip money down. You might not know that servers are allowed to claim whatever they want to the IRS, so they only claim a fraction of their actual tips! That's why I suggest you tip a pretax amount. Figure out the tip they deserve, then deduct around 30% from it. That way it's fair for everybody.

Click here for more of my dining advice!
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Cell phone love!

2009-06-19T08:09:00.010-04:00

I don't even like to think about what life would be like if I didn't have a cell phone. This one simple device allows me to live my life to the fullest. It keeps me on top of my family affairs, what my friends are up to, and what time my next booty call wants to meet up for a little game of "No, I don't have a condom either! Ah, who cares? Just put it in!"

Have you ever looked around at your fellow commuters and wondered why they're all on the phone? Who the hell are they talking to at 7:15 in the morning? Well in my case I'm yelling at Phil because my kids don't want to ride the bus and I need him to take them to school. Or maybe I'm calling in sick to work so I can spy on my ex-husband's girlfriend.

A cell phone also has the power to make the people around you feel inferior. But it's not about the type of phone you carry. It's about having someone better to talk to than all the people you're with. It's about planning your next move because wherever you are just isn't cool enough. You don't actually have to be talking to someone. You can pretend. In fact, most of the folks you see talking on their cellphones don't even have service!

What I really enjoy about today's phones is how customizable they are. Mine is pink with rhinestones, and has a miniature dream catcher hanging off the strap. It also has a case which matches my Louis Vuitton bag. And I have the two best ring tones available. It plays "My Humps" for everyone except Luke. For him I've got this hilarious ring tone of Donald Duck having an screaming orgasm.

Luke is our babysitter, and he's is a tall, dark, disturbing fellow who came to our door one night to ask about our home security needs. I didn't think I needed an alarm system, but I did need a babysitter! Apparently he needed the money because he jumped at the chance. He's single, so he's always available at a moment's notice. The kids seem to fearfully respect him.

So Phil and I went on a special date to Bonefish Grill last Wednesday. I left the table to use the bathroom and forgot to take my purse with me. That's when the babysitter called, because my clumsy daughter had fallen through the glass part of the coffee table. I didn't find this out until later, because it took poor Phil the entire ring cycle just to get the phone out of my purse. I got back and couldn't believe the way everyone was gawking. I guess they'd never heard a cartoon duck cum before!
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Gain favor with Satan!

2009-06-16T09:19:00.015-04:00

Y'all know I'm a Christian woman. I may not go to church, but I still maintain a personal relationship with our lord God. While my faith is strong, I believe that in these days of uncertainty It's still a good idea to hedge your bets. That's why I'll continue to do a little something each day to satisfy the whims of Satan. It's not difficult. In fact, he seems to be whispering little commands to me more often than not!

Finding your path to the dark lord isn't something you should overthink. It's as simple as doing his work. You see, God loves all creatures, both human and animal. The only true way to impress Satan is by destroying ourselves and each other. So don't turn your life around when you hit rock bottom! Instead, point your mortal shovel straight to hell and start digging!

The dark lord is a bit of a prankster, so try carrying out a few silly tricks in his name! You might decide to make fun of a really nice handicapped person. Or dig up a freshly buried corpse and leave it on the bus on a hot day. And if you feel like you've been too much of a Samaritan up until now you could probably make up for it by curb stomping a Latter-Day Saint!

Sure, not everyone can afford to put two of every animal into an RV and drive it off a cliff. Sometimes we've got to make do with what we've got. Like one time when my friend and I came across a couple of possums who were locked in the heat of a territorial stand-off. They were so focused on hissing at each other that they didn't even notice when I ran up and punted one of them off into the woods like a football! The other possum nearly shit a brick!

One thing God really hates is false idols. So go ahead and sacrifice a goat to Zeus, or accept The Weinstein Company into your heart. Maybe you could become a top-tier member of Amway. Pray to Miley Cyrus. Or visit a Krispy Kreme donut shop, and give thanks to the gods of sugar by making physical love to a hot glazed right off the belt!

There's one last trick which will practically guarantee you an enchanted afterlife as an earthbound demon. All you have to do is betray a true man of god. As powerful as this act can be, It's really as simple as tainting a priest's communion wine with the blood of a virgin. Or as complicated as hiring John Walsh under some unholy contract, then keeping him busy for months with something stupid, like locating your spare set of car keys.

_

The angel of Doswell!

2009-06-12T09:20:00.008-04:00

I was downtown last weekend and ran into Dale Brumfield, the man behind News from Doswell. He can be a little intimidating at first, because he's about 6 ft 10 inches tall, and he's got hands the size of tennis rackets. We chatted a little about our blogs and whatnot. But then he got this really concerned look on his face and he grasped my shoulder really hard.

He said, "Jocelyn, I'm afraid you're in danger!". I looked around, then back at him. "What the heck are you talking about?", I said. "Your sins!", his voice boomed, "I'm talking about your immortal soul!". I laughed. He said, "Come to Doswell and I'll convince you. When we're done you'll know exactly what I mean." As silly as it seemed, it was an intriguing offer.

So last night I drove up to Doswell after work. There isn't much going on out there that I could see. Just farms, woods, a couple of gas stations, and King's Dominion amusement park. As I turned the car onto a dusty side road I noticed a cock-eyed man sitting on the corner. He had a pile of soiled tube socks on his lap, and a sign that read "Thumbless Mittinz - $5 a pare".

A few miles later I was approaching the Brumfield compound, which was fitted with guard towers and a tall fence. I drove through the entrance gate and was greeted by several homely women and about sixty ragamuffin kids, all running around with dirty faces. They stopped and stared and there was an almost perfect silence. Then a small door creaked open, and out stepped our man Dale.

(click image to see the long view)

He led me beyond the crowd into the surrounding woods, and then into a clearing. He gestured towards an old tire filled with oily rainwater. I glanced down, and there, in that small pool of liquid were the secrets of Doswell. The lives, the hopes, and the secrets of a few hundred lost souls. Dale Brumfield is no reporter. He's a Shaman. And for this brief moment he was sharing his horrible vision.

Without warning, Dale yanked a fistful of hair out of my head and threw it in the water. The previous visions were replaced with visions of myself. I gazed deeper, drinking in the essense of my life, wincing at my many indiscretions. All was laid bare. "I believe! And I'm sorry!", I screamed, and for the first time in my life I fell to my knees and just cried and cried from the darkest depths of my soul. Dale whispered, "You shall be forgiven...".

That's when he kicked the back of my head and I fell face first into the disgusting magic tire water. I tried to lift myself out, but Dale was now forcing my head down into the abyss. My sins must have been worse than I'd thought because he held me in there until I'd completely blacked out. When I finally awoke it was midnight and I was lying on my front lawn. My body was wrapped in soaking wet newspapers, and a pair of socks had been placed over my hands.

Everything felt different. I guess you never know how many sins you carry until you've been absolved of them all at once. I began to realize why Dale would live in a place like Doswell. In a way, that town is full of people like me. Confused outsiders, all of us trying to make it through the day in whatever way makes sense to us. I truly believe that those who have been healed by Brumfield have been forgiven in the eyes of the almighty. One day we'll all be in heaven together, and the rest of you fuckers will be eating shit down in Hell!

Edit:
Apparently the Doswell spin machine is in full effect over this one!

One fine day!

2009-06-08T10:32:00.006-04:00

Saturday was a great day. It started with a trip to the CVS for some lube. I like the warming kind, so I make Phil use it even though it burns his dick hole. I happened to notice an old timer reaching into his back pocket for a prescription. He was unaware that he had dropped two $20 bills. I snapped 'em up and darted into the next isle. I hope he's not on a fixed income, or that old fool will be eating cat food for a week!

It felt like luck was on my side, so I stopped at the off-track betting office. $40 dollars on "Daddy's Rash" to win. Of course that piece of shit came in last. I swear to God, if I ever see that horse I'm going to break all four of his legs. You know I'll do it too! I've done worse, and for a lot less! My only consolation was that the money I lost wasn't mine to begin with.

After that I took the kids to visit mother in the nursing home. It's been so long since we left her there that I'd forgotten what a dump that place is. Everybody's all drugged up and moaning, and the hallway smells like a boiled colostomy bag. We stayed to eat with her but the food sucked. I'm sorry, but raisins with shredded carrots is not a dessert! Mom was so happy to see us that she cried the entire time.

On the way home I decided to get us something good as a treat. I pulled into the Wendy's and waited in a really long line at the drive-thru. I ordered three things of chicken nuggets, and paid for them at the first window. At the second window they hand me these two giant bags. I pulled around the building and discover that they'd given us enough food for like 8 people! Me and the kids filled up. Then we found a quiet highway overpass and took turns tossing chili and hamburger patties onto the cars below.

That little puke!

2009-06-02T08:03:00.005-04:00

With over a hundred blog posts, you'd think that I'd have mentioned more than one vomiting experience by now. I'm actually kind of a stranger to the barfcore lifestyle. I only seem to blow chunks under the most extreme of circumstances. That's why I'd almost forgotten about this one gnarly experience that happened back when my son Brandon was just a baby.

It was my day off of work and I'd just finished all my errands. It was time to start relaxing! Since nothing works as well for humans as catnip works for cats, I usually settle for a cold jug of Ice Box brand pre-mixed cocktails. My only complaint about their products is how they make me hungry almost right away. That was especially true on this day, because I was out of cigarettes.

We stopped at Shoney's. For some reason that lukewarm cottage cheese on their salad bar was calling my name! When I got up there the lady stocking the croutons told me to take all the cottage cheese I wanted because she was about to throw it out. I lifted the entire metal buffet tray out of it's spot, carried it to our table, and openly gorged myself like some deranged nursing home patient.

I realized as we were leaving that I hadn't gotten a chance to change Brandon's diaper since that morning, just before I'd put him in his little automatic swinging baby chair. That was a mistake, because riding in that thing always left him with a full, sloppy diaper. I usually had to wipe it off his back afterwards!

So I was tired and wanting to head home, change the baby, and take a rest. But I had promised my daughter that I'd take her to a stupid monster truck show. The goddamn place has a closed roof, so the fumes started getting to me right away. I was also feeling somewhat nervous, because there were just way too many white people in there.

We took our seats and I started preparing baby Brandon for his dinner. I held him to my breast and he began feeding. I used my free hand to muffle his one exposed ear from the loud truck noise. Then a couple vendors came by, so I bought a cotton candy for my daughter and a pack of peanuts for myself. The very first peanut was a bad one, and it left a really disgusting taste in my mouth.

I bummed a cheap cigarette off of the woman next to me. As I took my first drag it made a loud popping sound, which was probably just an irregular clump of chemical additives. It made the smoke taste nasty, which made me choke. The cigarette fell out of my mouth and landed in my lap as I gasped for air.

In doing so I managed to inhale a hearty whiff of Brandon's unchanged diaper. There was no time to prepare. I vomited quick and hard, right in the face of my breastfeeding child. So the next thing you know I'm running through the Richmond Coliseum with a screaming, puke-covered baby, one exposed breast, and a cigarette burn in my Wranglers.

I found the concession window and reached for the napkins. Of course they were that cheap, flimsy kind that break into pieces as you try to remove them from the dispenser. Even when I finally pulled a wad of them out, they weren't absorbing worth a damn. As mortified as I was, I somehow had the presence of mind to stuff Brandon into my oversized purse. Then I carried him out to the van, where we waited for my daughter to find us.

Florida babies!

2009-05-28T09:31:00.007-04:00

We're down here in our second home, Florida! Once again, we flew into Jacksonville. I have a cousin there, and she's letting us use her old RV. Apparently her ragamuffin kids have been sneaking in there since last summer to relieve themselves, because the toilet was filled the brim with stinky old brown pee.

Using this RV was supposed to be a money-saving measure, but I'm not sure that it's been worth it. Aside from getting about one mile to the gallon, the goddamn thing has no air conditioning, all the seats are covered in leather-textured vinyl. This is unbearable because it's hot as hell down here right now. Also, when the engine is running the whole inside smells like exhaust.

I didn't realize how nauseating this could be until we ate our first meal at a questionable roadside dairy and clam bar. The kids were moaning about their stomachs all the way to Orlando. That's right! I took these spoiled little shits to Disney World! Disney's Blizzard Beach water park, to be exact. It wasn't easy, because it was Memorial Day weekend, so I had to take a special route to avoid all the DUI roadblocks.

Blizzard Beach is a winter themed water park, and there's a little something there for everyone. My favorite part of any water park is the lazy river. The #1 rule for this attraction is that nobody with diarrhea is allowed in the water. I decided to go ahead and get in anyway, because it's not like I'm ever going to see any of these people ever again! That's pretty much my philosophy for everything when I'm away from home.

The food they were selling at the park was decent looking and reasonably priced, but it adds up with three kids. So for lunch they shared a king-sized pack of Reese's cups that were melted from being in my purse all day. They loved it! They walked around all afternoon with chocolate smeared all over their mouths. Talk about shit eating grins!

By two o'clock the sun was really beating down. The ground was so hot that it was burning all our feet. But on the bright side, it's still a water park, so it's easy to cool down, and the kids never whine about having to pee. Phil doesn't know how to swim, so he stayed out of the water. Within an hour the heat had him sweating like pig. The body powder he uses to keep cool had turned to a pasty batter, which was caked into his curly body hairs.

Of course my stupid kids all got sunburned, so they had a blast slapping each other in the RV on the way out of the park. Then they fell asleep. That's when we took the opportunity to ditch them with the RV in a souvenir shop parking lot (with a stick of salted butter to treat their sunburns with). Phil and I took a shuttle to Downtown Disney. It was raining all evening, and I didn't wear a bra, so some folks really got an eye full!

We've decided to finish up our week in beautiful Siesta Key, which was recently rated the #2 beach in America. The kids are having fun throwing shells at pelicans and playing catch with the turtle eggs. It's cool how the state puts little flags on the nests so the kids have less trouble finding them. I think that recent shark attack in Clearwater ruined the joke I had planned, because people didn't appreciate it when I yelled out, "SHARK!" at the sight of a few dolphins.

P.S. I realize now that I should have taken the easy route!

Making his mama proud!

2009-05-19T10:14:00.002-04:00

I took my eight year old son Brandon with me to the grocery store last month. He had managed to make some extra money by helping our neighbor drain her foot, so I let him hang around near the toy vending machines while I shopped. Along comes this kid Matt, a porky little outcast who's a year ahead of Brandon in school.

Matt asked Brandon to loan him a quarter. In good faith, Brandon did so. Matt bought a rubbery sticky hand from the vending machine. Then they went outside the store and Matt threw his toy against the front of the building. It somehow got stuck up high where they couldn't reach. Then Matt did the unthinkable. He told Brandon that he would not be paying him back the quarter!

Brandon is at that age where he's learning how to assert himself. It's not about the quarter. Hell, you could throw a quarter at someone and get your money's worth. It's the principle of the thing. So I told him to demand what's his! Our family doesn't take shit! I told him that if Matt won't pony up, go ahead and threaten him.

Brandon usually walks to school with older kids from our block, and they sometimes run into Matt at the last crosswalk. For three days in a row he warned Matt that his older friends would beat him up one day during recess. Brandon didn't really mean it, and Matt laughed it off.

So around dinnertime last night, Matt and his father showed up at our front door. They'd already been around to visit Brandon's older buddies. Apparently his friends didn't get the memo, because they'd beaten the shit out of Matt during recess that morning. His father pulled the back of Matt's shirt up for us so we could see the bruises that covered his back.

Brandon looked shocked. He had never intended for this to happen. Then Matt's father said, "Matt, isn't there something you wanted to say?". Matt looked up at Brandon, stuck out his arm, and opened his palm to reveal a shiny new coin. "Here's your quarter back..." he said weakly. Brandon took it and said thanks and said he was sorry. Both boys looked devastated.

Later that night I found Brandon crying in his room. He felt really guilty about Matt getting hurt. I did my best to reassure him. I said, "I know you feel bad now, honey, but it was for the best. You got your quarter back! You won, and he lost!". After hearing that he smiled. As I left the room I saw him pull the quarter out of his pocket to admire it a little.

Theme parks touch our lives!

2009-05-12T08:28:00.005-04:00

The house feels hot and itchy. The dog is shedding like he's got radiation poisoning. We have to get out! I decided that it was time for our annual trip to the theme park. We're sneaking because last year they kicked us out after my son used a ketchup pump to make a mess out of the handicapped bathroom. I told him that from now on, if he wants to ketchup a bathroom he'll have to stomp on packets!

I stopped off at this one shitty gas station, the type where you usually have to complain about the empty glass cleaner tubs in the service area. But this time the tubs were brimming. I grabbed the squeegee out impulsively and the shit gushed blue cleaner all over the pants and shoes of some man who had been standing there pulling paper towels out of the dispenser. He yelled something.

I realized that I should have waited until he was done before I grabbed that squeegee. Unfortunately I had just finished watching Pulp Fiction while smoking over a pile of my children's freshly laundered clothing. Something about that movie makes me want to act bad ass. I left the station with a wet foot, and the satisfaction that comes from kicking the balls of a angry man who had every right to be mad!

It's fun to visit theme parks, laughing and sharing your own memories with your kids. Mine loved hearing about the time I swiped a mascot costume and stumbled around the entrance fondling the mouths of strangers. There was that hot summer night when I opened a can of potato soup at the top of a roller coaster. Or the morning I shot up heroin and rode the gondola all day in the fetal position

You start to feel old when the rides start kicking your ass. I remember how, in younger days, we'd jab at roller coaster safety equipment with sharpened screwdrivers. Sleazy men would ask for help with their flimsy safety bar while sportin' some major wood. Later those men would sit hunching on a bench near the kiddie rides just leafing through porno mags, and nobody would say nothing!

These newer rides miss the point. I'll have to take my kids to a State Fair if I want them to learn the value of barfing straight back into your own face on a centrifuge ride. Or the delight of luring other kids away from their parents and putting them on terrifying rides. The mystery of finding an out-of-the-way old local fair that will still let you powerwash the crack of your ass with a reverse, bent-over flume ride.

I sometimes wish this place was more like those old fashioned theme parks, with the kind of magic that insipires people walk around with their hand in their lover's back pocket, everybody wearing those small loose shorts that offer occasional peeks of hairy junk. It's an experience so timeless, you'll want to do some poppers, gamble on a round of Skee-ball, and then use a straight razor to teach preteens some manners.

Too much stress!

2009-05-08T13:15:00.010-04:00

I had a big presentation in front of the CEO on Wednesday afternoon. My knock-off Wonder Bra was sopping with flop sweat. At 3:30 pm, during the middle of a demonstration, I remembered that I'd never dropped off the baby, and he'd been outside in his car seat since lunch! I couldn't get outside to check on him for another 45 minutes!

I decided to get my head straight by taking a personal day on Thursday. I got up extra early for my favorite activity: sitting in the back of a courthouse watching poor people get their lives ruined. Then I drove home to get high. The funniest thing about huffing freon is how I'm getting high for free while my neighbors are sweating their asses off all night!

I let the kids skip school and I drove them to the mall. I told them before we went in that if they get lost inside the mall they'll be abducted and left headless in a canal like John Walsh's son. They were freaked out. We stopped at the food court to feed the baby. I hate the way people stare, but my baby won't eat ripe bananas until I smash them up between my breasts.

As I cleaned up from the feeding I was paged by mall security. They caught my son jamming his own shoelaces into the base of a moving escalator. I explained that the kids are still upset about Easter because all they received was a woman's hat full of low fat Pop-tarts. That's when a big back pimple broke open and started soaking through my white blouse.

After a day like that I'm actually happy to be back at work. Before I get home I'm going to stop off at Dominic's to eat a steak sub the size of a neck pillow. We are out of clean dishes at home, so the children's dinner will be cooked in and served from an old electric foot bath. Anyone who complains is in time out.

Pedestrians not wanted!

2009-04-28T11:36:00.006-04:00

The good people of the Lakeside area have really got some balls. For starters, we have more rebel flags, black lawn jockeys, and deflated Christmas inflatables than you'd ever want to see in your life. And rather than walk we drive everywhere, thanks to the absence of sidewalks, lack of businesses worth walking to, and the thousands upon thousands of lonely fenced dogs that bark viciously at anything and everything that moves.

I've always felt that pedestrians are a big pain in the ass. Sure, it starts out innocently enough. You watch an episode of "The Biggest Loser" and all of a sudden you're on a kick to walk up and down every inch of your neighborhood. You start to feel better about yourself, you're getting fresh air, and you're showing off that brightly colored iPod for all that it's worth.

What you don't realize is that you're annoying me, with your waving, your heavy breathing, and your constant gawking. Walkers and runners are always the ones who discover dead bodies or become random witnesses (snitches) to domestic crimes. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don't need or want you nosey motherfuckers coming around here. If you don't live on my block, you don't need to be walking down it, period!

Another thing that bothers me is how pedestrians always demand right of way, even though they don't deserve it. If you're walking then you're obviously not in that big of a rush. I'm not driving my car because I'm trying to get heart smart. I've got somewhere to be, dipshit, and fast! If you want to walk so bad then maybe you should drive to a designated area, like a mall or a running circle.

Luckily we homeowners still have one tool at our disposal: our dogs. Take my rottweiler, Muffin. He's somewhat of a typical Lakeside dog: angry, stupid, and largely neglected. He got into some trouble in our old neighborhood, so this new home has been the first chance I've had in months to expose him to the public eye. Now he's got a nice little backyard to work with, and there's nothing he likes more than defending it against anyone within earshot.

Having all these dogs around the neighborhood really cuts down on the pedestrian menace. Nobody's making it down a single block without passing through a gauntlet of loud accusing barks. It may seem like a nuisance to some, but I feel we have a right to protect our property, even if that means making the fence vulnerable enough to allow a few dogs to break free every now and then.

So please, folks, take the hint. When I look out my window I'd better not catch sight of you power walking by in your sweat wicking shorts, checking your pulse and chatting with your chubby life partner about the curb appeal of each home you pass. If you fail to heed this warning then don't be too surprised when one of Lakeside's many massive, beligerent dogs appears out of nowhere to chew a prize-winning hunk of flesh from your fat ass.
_

Revenge is a dish best served bitter!

2009-04-17T09:18:00.004-04:00

I'm happily remarried to Phil, but I can't deny that i still care about Kevin, my ex-husband. That's why it's been difficult lately, dealing with him and the court system. He was finally granted visitation with the kids, which is actually kind of nice, because I get more time to live my life. Since that happened, Kevin and I have tried to give each other as much space as possible to avoid any unnecessary awkward moments.

That was until I discovered that he's been dating a woman that he works with, and I suspect that she may be the whore he was cheating on me with! I've been asking around about this bitch, and she's got this reputation for being a real sweetheart, which tells me that she's a phony, and probably a kiss ass too. I'm sorry, but there is no way in hell I'm going to let a woman like that become the stepmother of my children!

The only solution is to use my cunning intellect and my kids to break them up. I've explained to my kids that she's some kid of succubus, and that she'll eventually try to kill me and Phil, and have their little asses shipped off to a military school. During their last visit I got them to steal me a key to the house. I went over there during work the other day and poured a whole bottle of Nair into his shampoo bottle. I hope she likes bald men!

That got me thinking of other ideas. I told the kids borrow a few other things from her and Kevin. They took a check from her checkbook, so I wrote it out for $1000, endorsed it in Kevin's handwriting, and deposited it into his bank account. I also ran up $300 in charges at the strip club on her credit card, and had the kids hide the card in Kevin's sock drawer.

Then I had them get me her cell phone number. I had my girlfriends call her, coyly asking for Kevin and then hanging up when she asked who was calling. Kevin's girlfriend is medium sized, so I gave the kids a bag of large bras and small panties from the Goodwill, which they've scattered under Kevin's mattress, and around the seats in her car (which is perfect because they share that car!)

If all this doesn't work I have a few other things I might try. I've got an old boyfriend who works at the court house who'd be willing to place Kevin on the sex offender registry. Or I could get the kids to drug his food, and I'll leave an anonymous tip with his job to get him drug tested and fired. And if all else fails, I'll hide in a parking lot and break her mouth with a wrench.

25 Diseases you might survive

2009-04-16T15:06:00.001-04:00

1.Stiff neck from sleeping in some backwards ass position
2.Chicken pox the size of jumbo pepperoni slices
3.Throat so sore that it gives you a burning earache
4.Leg pain while you're trying to fall asleep
5.Nose that's running and clogged simultaneously
6.Black sock foot stench plague
7.Morning after stranger sex pee sting
8.Big fat rash from a soiled hotel room comforter
9.Dental work that includes a needle jab to your gumline
10.Refried bean gas from Planet F
11.World class foot cramp in the middle of the night
12.Scorching skin lesions from a jagged shaving razor
13.Mononucleosis sympathy pains
14.Complete taste bud removal from scalding hot pizza
15.Extreme disorientation after a massive turkey dinner
16.Five sneezes in a row, triggering a total brain reboot
17.Bee sting in between your toes while wearing sandals
18.Cat scratch fever from some scummy broad at a Bon Jovi show
19.Cardboard paper cut that removes your entire left hand
20.Body rejecting a sip of bad milk like it was a baboon heart
21.Lips so dry they crack and bleed at the corners of your mouth
22.Jaundice-colored hands from rolling pennies all day
23.Unintentional elbow jab to the titty
24.Warts that serve no purpose other than to make you self-conscious
25.Mysteriously sore balls from out of nowhere

Western Henrico must secede!

2009-04-13T10:49:00.009-04:00

As you know, I recently moved from the City of Richmond to the Lakeside neighborhood of Henrico County. Richmond was actually part of Henrico until 1871. Then Richmond became it's own thing, and Henrico became this oddly shaped wrap-around county we see today, which borders the city mostly on the Northwest and East sides.

The problem is that Western Henrico, where I live, is awesome. It's full of jobs and nice malls and pretty houses. Eastern Henrico, on the other hand, is full of rabid raccoons, dumpy apartment complexes, schwag weed, and broke-ass no-account fools. That's why I propose that the Western part of Henrico County should secede from the Eastern part. Here's a map so you can see what I'm talking about:

[click image for larger version]

As you can see, we'll need some new names. Western Henrico County is a premium area, and "Henrico County" is a premium name, so we should probably keep that name and let the Eastern folks come up with something new for themselves. The Eastern part of the county may actually have a better historical claim to the "Henrico" name, but we've got better lawyers, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Currently the only worthwhile things in Eastern Henrico are the Richmond International Airport and the Richmond International Raceway. Luckily our smaller, more efficient new Henrico County will have the money to build a new top of the line airport for the Richmond area. We probably won't build a new raceway, because it's loud and a pain in the ass, but maybe we can build a pro football arena instead.

I know a lot of you must be excited about this concept, and I want you to know that I'm interested in hearing your thoughts and feelings. I also need help coming up with a Glenn Beck style grassroots campaign, full of whiney rhetoric and tacky protests in the streets. So let's get things started by forwarding this post to your local friends and family. Together we'll help Henrico County come into it's own!

Follow the movement at Twitter.com/FilthyRichmond

Parenting ain't easy!

2009-04-09T13:23:00.009-04:00

I've gotten dozens of angry comments from you non-parents who think raising kids is so simple. I can understand why it would seem that way from the outside. I just wish you could spend this week in my shoes. I've taken off work because my kids are on Spring break (somebody has to watch their asses!). The worst part is that we're stuck at home together. I was going to take them somewhere, until I remembered last year.

I had taken them all to the King's Dominion amusement park for some fun and rides. Little Jailen, who was two at the time, started whining after only three hours. Then she got all dehydrated and blacked out. It pretty much ruined the day for everyone. I reminded her about that this week, and told her that she's the reason we weren't going anywhere this summer.

On Monday we all went to the grocery store. I made the mistake of taking them through the checkout with me. As I should have guessed, they totally flipped out over the candy rack. I told them "no" and they started throwing a group tantrum. So I tossed a candy bar onto the belt and said, "Fine!". But once I got them strapped into the car I opened the candy wrapper and ate the whole damn thing right in front of them. Tough love never tasted so good!

On Tuesday I screamed at them to either play inside or out. Then I put baby O.J. in the tub with a mouthful of Bubble tape and headed upstairs to the computer. After a while little Jailen started banging on my bedroom door, and I yelled at her for being inside. She kept banging, so I swung the door open, and she told me that Brandon had fallen off his bike. That idiot had managed to dislocate his shoulder, and had to drag himself home all the way from the cul-de-sac. I told them not to play so far down the street!

On Wednesday my pregnant 15 year old daughter decided to run away. We've been fighting like cats and dogs lately, so I'm not sure that I even want her to come back. Then I think that she's probably hiding out in some unwed mother's shelter getting all kinds of bad advice from god knows who. Eventually she'll realize that she needs me to help guide her through the realities of pregnancy and motherhood.

So it's Thursday now, and I'm pretty much at my wit's end. I just had to figure something out. The thing is, I never hit my kids. A good parent knows that it's better to outsmart them. They wouldn't ever eat their vegetables until I told them that broccoli helps you fart. So this morning I told them that the wooden spoon (which I use for spaghetti sauce) is stained red because I'd beaten my first child to death for misbehaving. It seems to be working so far!

Keep marijuana illegal!

2009-04-03T09:36:00.009-04:00

As a married woman and mother of four, you'd probably expect me to support the current state of marijuana laws. It may surprise you to learn that I'm a regular marijuana smoker. Knowing that, you may expect me to be pro-legalization. Once again, you'd be wrong. I'm firmly against the legalization of marijuana. But unlike most folks on my side of the argument, I have solid reasons for taking this stance.

For one thing, my cousins are prison guards. Their job security depends on constant prison overcrowding. They also make good money supplying marijuana to certain prisoners. And it's understood that most drug convicts make excellent prison bitches for the truly violent offenders. Simply put, legalization would put our nation's fragile prison economy at risk!

That's just the start. Think about how illegal drugs give our law enforcement a valuable tool in arresting minorities when need be. Additionally, legalizing marijuana would strip our state police departments of their ability to seize and auction off the homes and cars of anyone carrying more than a half ounce of marijuana. You think taxes on decriminalized marijuana could make up the loss? Think again!

Another drawback of legalization is that everyone who is now drug free will probably start smoking the day it's all legalized. This is particularly troublesome because these newbs will start freaking out. School buses will be crashing left and right, companies will fold under a weight of too many sick days, and folks will stop taking themselves so seriously. That's pretty much what happened before the fall of Rome!

Even if we can look past the threat to our adult population, we must consider the children. Once legally regulated, marijuana will be as hard for kids to buy as alcohol is now. So you've got to wonder about what they'll go for next. Freon huffing? Suppository abuse? Free-based jenkem? By the time we know what the next thing is they'll already be hooked!

Of course our more enterprising young people won't be able to focus on their studies, because that $200 per night profit from dealing drugs will be gone. Rather than just selling a few bags on a Friday night, these once promising young students would be forced to spend 12-16 of their best hours per week in low paying fast food or grocery bagging jobs. Parents can kiss those straight "A" report cards goodbye!

So as you compose that letter to your representatives in congress, begging them to legalize pot, prepare yourself for the bleak future that follows. Today's drug mafia leaders will become tomorrows high-paid consultants for major corporations. They'll be deliberately tainting our marijuana supplies with addictive carcinogens, much the same way tobacco and soft drinks are tainted today. Sure, you're laughing now. You won't be laughing when the blood's flying, and you're screaming!

_

World's most annoying neighbors!

2009-03-31T09:09:00.002-04:00

We've got this young couple living next door to our new house. At first they were really welcoming. But lately they've been bitching about the loud music and about how their newborn is trying to sleep. I don't get it. Why can't that little shit do his sleeping when I'm stuck at work all day?

When I get home from the office I just need to relax. That's why I keep a cooler full of iced Cheladas waiting for me on the back porch. So excuse me if I sprawl out on my lawn chair and get drunk while wearing my rattiest see-thru white bikini top, blasting my Kelly Clarkson CD and singing along. That should be okay to do on my own goddamn property!

I've had a couple of heated altercations with these folks, but lately they haven't said a word to me. Still, I hate them. The last time I saw the guy in his yard I convinced my cousin to spray at him with the garden hose in a flamboyant manner. He went inside and called the cops on us. The cop knew my cousin from high school, so he didn't really give a shit either way. He put it down to a lawn watering mishap.

To make matters worse, the neighbors on the other side of us are old, ornery, and practically deaf. They've been whining to anyone who will listen about our overgrown yard, and how every time their grandkids chase a ball onto our lawn they get poison oak all over their legs and rear ends. They've also been telling people that the little man-made pond in our back yard is nothing more than a breeding pool for mosquito eggs.

The last time those fools knocked on my door was to accuse our newly adopted and unfixed cat "Jager" of sneaking into their doggy door at night and spraying their microfiber sofa with musk. I was so angry about this outright lie that I didn't even bother to tell them about how Jager had gotten into a fight with their dog that morning and somehow managed to pluck one of his eyeballs out.

I'm also hearing rumors about this single dad down the block who's mad at me because I stomped out to the bus stop last Friday and told his son to stop talking to my son. I've had enough problems with my Brandon choosing art and reading over sports and girls. The last thing I need is him becoming buddies with a kid who uses a PBS tote as a book bag.

At least I've made friends with one person on my block. That would be Phyllis, who lives two doors down. She's retired, and likes to sit at the edge of her front yard all day on a cracked white plastic chair and chain smoke little cigars. She's funny as shit. She swears and shakes her fist at cars that aren't even speeding, and she always sexually harasses the UPS man.

25 things to do when your favorite website is down!

2009-03-26T09:22:00.009-04:00

1.Retry the URL 1000 times
2.Get in touch with your weeping
3.Play slap n' tickle with your significant other
4.Flip your SUV on an ice-covered road
5.Floss your ass with your roommate's favorite hoodie
6.Wax the floors and have a one man stocking foot race
7.Slap a couple flame decals onto your '88 Ford Tempo
8.Break out the old Salad Shooter and relive the magic
9.Eat a dozen sticks of chocolate scented lip balm
10.Actually do your job well for once
11.Make sure that your girlfriend has had all her shots
12.Replace that fart-stained pillow on your desk chair
13.Smack your balls between two planks of wood
14.Send your grandfather an experienced dominatrix
15.Force Dr. Phil to drink your hot stinky pee
16.Leave your fine young wife for a bitchy hag with 17 fat kids
17.Deep fry an entire deer for the juiciest venison possible
18.Deliberately ram someone for not making a right on red
19.Eat just one Lay's potato chip, deny yourself another
20.Invent a bike helmet that doesn't make kids look retarded
21.Force your mailman to the ground and tattoo his buttocks
22.Stock your fridge with nothing but Lunchables & Capri Sun
23.Down a few laxatives and shit yourself during an MRI
24.Bring your dog to the vet for a circumcision
25.Wash your fuckin' sheets for once, they're gross

For the love of Spring!

2009-03-19T09:55:00.009-04:00

It's already feeling like Spring here in Virginia, and it's a beautiful thing. The feeling is taking over as sunlight lifts me from my foggy winter gloom. I've been sticking to my car's leather interior more and more, and I have an excuse to hide my permanent facial squint with a pair of sunglasses.

Signs of life abound. The neighborhood squirrels appear rested, and are up to their usual antics. The dog stinks even when he isn't wet. Birds build their filthy nests and attack passersby. Spiders return from hibernation to exact their revenge. And the Easter Bunny will hop into your room to lay some non-dairy chocolate colored eggs.

The Dogwood trees reveal their tender blossoms. Meter maids have an extra bounce in their step as they screw you out of $40. As if by instinct, migrant workers fly by overhead in that classic "V" shape formation. And folks enjoy early sightings of unfit slobs in cut-off jeans, with their adorable 2-foot long arm pit stains.

The smell of renewal and leftover decay is thick in the air. No more tripping over frozen dog poop on the way to the car. Now you can step in nice warm dog poop with your bare feet! And the noisy vibrations of bass-heavy rap blast obnoxiously from every piece-of-shit Richmond vehicle.

This is the time to plan for upcoming Summertime fun. The kids and I will take our usual trip to the Band-aid encrusted shores of Virginia Beach. On the way home I'll drown out their sunburn complaints by turning up the Tom Petty and lighting a fat spliff. At night our cares will melt away as we're lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the bug zapper.

.

Blame the teachers!

2009-03-17T10:29:00.004-04:00

I'm just a typical parent. I work all day, and I send my children to public school. They call it a free education, but it's not. I'm always being asked to shell out money for lunches, field trips, you name it. It also takes a good amount of effort to get them out the door on time for the bus each morning. So forgive me, but I just can't understand why my kids don't know shit!

Kids these days don't know how to cook, behave in public, clean a wound, take care of their pets, or tie their shoes. They lack motivation and discipline. As soon as they get home they turn on the children's cable TV channels and watch until they get tired enough to go to bed. Just once I'd like to see my kids doing something worthwhile!

Another thing is that my kids aren't very well behaved. Don't schools still teach moral lessons on things like not lying and not hurting animals? If they are then it's not working! My kids lie right to my goddamn face. They throw rocks at chipmunks. And any time I turn my back they either break something or hurt themselves. Why don't they teach them to keep their hands to themselves?

To me, the clearest sign of our failing schools is how my kids sometimes act up. It's obvious to me that they're not getting enough attention from their teachers. They just love to piss me off by climbing all over the furniture and smudging up the walls. Don't they get enough of that all day at school? I wonder!

On top of it all, these teachers still try to pass their jobs off on us parents. They send home sign off sheets for homework and stuff. They guilt us into joining PTA groups, then shut us down when we tell them how to do their jobs. But if you back off and become less involved they'll accuse you of being bad parents. They seem to think we're the only ones to blame for the failures of our children. It just goes to show how out of touch they are.

You're too late, fellas!

2009-03-13T10:43:00.004-04:00

Phil met my demands, and we've finally been wed in holy matrimony! Most importantly, he bought me one of those big houses I asked for! It's in a small development built within the boundaries of an older neighborhood. I like that because the houses on our block are much nicer than all the dumps around us. Another good thing about living in the Lakeside area is that everyone around here is unattractive, so I won't have to worry about Phil's wandering eyes!

Of course what you really want to hear about is the wedding! It was a lovely, no nonsense affair. We held the wedding and reception in Phil's neighbors backyard. The setting was perfect, other than the neighbor's kid's dirty faces, and the yard strewn with broken toys and shit. Also, Little Caesars did the catering, and it gave everyone constipation and gas. The sky was overcast too, but luckily it didn't rain, because the FunSaver cameras would have been ruined!

Phil was devilishly handsome in his new shirt, still creased with little squares from being fresh out of the pack. My three year old daughter Jailen was the adorable flower girl, dressed in her Halloween Disney princess costume. Muffin, my rottie, was going to be the ring bearer, but he bit my son (again) for trying to tie the little pillow around his collar. We decided instead to let the flower girl handle the ring, and Muffin's job would be to watch little newborn Orenthal James.

My cousin Buck handled the ceremony. That only cost us the small fee to have him ordained over the Internet. Phil's groomsmen were my other two cousins and my son, Brandon. Phil wanted his brother to be best man, but I said no, because I think he thinks he's better than us. My bridesmaids were my best friends, and my teenage daughter was my maid of honor. She wore my old prom dress, which she wouldn't have been able to fit in if she wasn't already so heavy from her pregnancy.

The nuptial vows were short and sweet, but our first married kiss was hot and sloppy. Then everyone hollered and we all got shitfaced. My cousins and my best friends ended up hooking up after dark, and they must have had fun, because they totally clogged Phil's neighbor's hot tub filter. Phil and I snuck out a little early, and spent our honeymoon night screwing like a couple of stray cats in his uncle's RV.

I won't tolerate an idle man!

2009-02-17T10:36:00.003-05:00

I don't know what it is about the sight of a man doing nothing that just makes my blood boil! I know Phil works hard, and I respect that. But that don't mean he's gotta sit on ass and watch football every Sunday when I've got other things in mind that he could be doing. Of course I realize that Phil needs to relax sometimes. That's what sleep is for!

But in the waking hours he should want to spend every moment helping make a better life for me and my kids. I've tried dropping hints about how the kids' rooms are a mess, the garage is full of my ex-husbands former belongings, and my bathroom is in need of a good cleaning. Plus the wedding is coming up, and Phil hasn't even started going through my address book to send invitations to my friends.

I guess he doesn't get the fact that our life together started the minute he proposed. He seems to think that just because we're not living together yet he can still spend hours at his own house, doing his own thing. He already knows that as soon as he buys our new house I'm going to rent out my townhouse, but he hasn't even bothered to post it on Craigslist for me!

I can't wait until we're living in a nice planned development, and I've got Phil under my thumb where he belongs. All doubt will be removed because I'll be able to plan his day for him, and adjust the schedule thoughout the day. He won't have to worry about pissing me off any more, because I'll make sure that he's always doing the right thing. Then we'll both be happy!

America must return to greatness!

2009-02-13T07:46:00.004-05:00

It's time, folks. It's time to roll up our sleeves, slip on our stretchy "USA" sweat wristbands, and get back to work on this little project we call America! It's time to clean all that dog snot off our cars' rear passenger windows. Define telemarketing as a form of terrorism. And lock the kids out of the house for the entire summer (If those brats get thirsty they can drink from the hose!).

We gotta take bold steps, like turn our backs on creamed corn, and anything equally as yucky. Rename "French fries" as "Early stroke fries". Legalize THC to maximize our paranoia level. Wear a thong to church to be closer to God. And deliberately mess with Texas, after having been repeatedly warned.

It's time to develop a genre of gay rap music. Help the homeless, or admit that we can't, and execute them. Win the race to develop the world's first scabies-proof mattress. Boycott unentertaining telethons right out of existence. And outfit our soldiers with huge, intimidating scissor hands!

As one people, with one common goal, we must yank the tick of inequality from Lady Liberty's greasy, matted fur. Disassemble all the SUVs, and turn them into gas/electric mopeds. Make poolside horse-play a felony. Capture Bill O'Reilly alive, and seal him inside of an unventilated see-through coffin.

Then we're gonna have a Pabst. And it's gonna be good.

Some guys can't take a compliment!

2009-02-06T12:21:00.005-05:00

Our office has been really backed up on new invoices lately, so they gave me the opportunity to hire a temp. After sending us a couple of losers, the agency finally sent me someone I thought I could work with. He's a nice young married man, 22 years old, and in fantastic shape. Yes, I'm engaged right now, but that don't mean that I can't look. I ain't dead yet, folks!

He's a shy kid, so I've tried to make him feel comfortable by just being myself. I figured a few dirty jokes would break him out of his shyness. Then I tried boosting his confidence a bit more by patting him on the back or caressing his neck when he does a good job. I even told him that I thought he had a cute butt! Yet after all this he's just as shy as ever!

Then I thought I could get him out of his box by teasing him a little. I asked him about what kinds of things he liked to do to his wife. He told me that his wife was pregnant, and I offered a fun response about how pregnancy could have been avoided. I also left a silly photoshop on his desk of he and I having dirty sex, but he just threw it away without even saying anything!

Well I don't know what it is about him, but the more he avoids me, the more I think I like him! I've even resorted to some straight forward flirting! Yesterday, when he came into the lounge for his morning break, I was already in there, stirring his yogurt cup with my finger. Just as he realized what I was doing I pulled my finger out, put it in my mouth, and sucked the yogurt off. I've never seen a man blush so red!

Apparently that was it for him. He went to my director and told her that he didn't appreciate my behavior. The director and I have actually made friends over the last few months, so she wasn't hearing it. She told him she'd talk to me, and to go back to his desk. Then she called me in and told me to fire him if he's a problem. Since he's a temp it's no problem sending him away. Maybe I'll be generous and offer him an opportunity to save his job.

_

The 25 worst drinks to get drunk on!

2009-02-03T22:12:00.011-05:00

1.Creme de Buddy Hackett's leg pits
2.Piss warm cans of Milwaukee's Best
3.Goat's milk margarita
4.Last-sip-of-everyone-else's-beer sangria
5.Bloody marys at a vampire cult party
6.Steven Hawkin's wheelchair cushion rum
7.Used Bud Ice out a latrine
8.Rotten Cheese & Old Wood European Lager
9.Johnny Walker: guy-with-a-plate-in-his-head formula
10.Chemical toilet schnapps
11.Kahlúa on ice cubes made of viscous standing water
12.Mike's Heartburn Lemonade
13.Liquid propane martini
14.Rupaul's Own ready-to-drink mudslide mix
15.Hot Everclear & grenadine from a sports bottle
16.Viagra & Bacardi mixers at the old folks home
17.Irish cream out of a dirty cowboy boot
18.Orange Shasta and nail polish remover
19.Black & Tan & DNA evidence
20.Sally Jesse Raphael's panty wine
21.Bong water colada
22.Refreshing blue mouthwash cocktails
23.Aristocrat vodka colonic
24.Chunky curdled buttermilk shooters
25.Hugh Hefner's diaper contents, on the rocks

_

My kids are a disappointment!

2009-01-28T16:12:00.008-05:00

It's never easy being a mom. First your own parents disappoint you through your entire childhood. Then you have some kids of your own, and they're an even bigger disappointment! I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I give 'em everything they need. Maybe my kids are just a bunch of duds. Let me describe a little of what I mean so you won't think I'm a terrible mother!

My three year old, little Jailen, is always a handful. The problem with her is that she don't know when to shut up! She points at everything and asks me all kinds of questions. I always say, "I don't know! Damn.", but she keeps doin' it, so she's obviously not getting the hint. That's when I make her take a time-out, where she has to stand in the corner until she falls asleep.

The problem with Brandon, my eight year old, is that he likes all these things like "High School Musical" and Disney Channel. He also likes to draw. I've encouraged him to take on more manly pursuits, but he refuses. He always wants hugs, but I know I'm not supposed to coddle him to much. That's why I've converted an old broom into what I call "the indifference stick". I make him hold one end while I hold the other. It keeps us at a comfortable distance that I think will be best for his development.

I'm proudest of my 15 year old, Darla. She's following in my footsteps and leaping into womanhood by accepting responsibility for her pregnancy. The only problem with her is that she's such a prude! She never wants to smoke or party with her mom (but she's more than happy to with her friends!). She also won't listen to me when I tell her that part time college courses are a waste of time! She's got a baby on the way!

You'd think this little rant would end there, but no, because even my new baby, Orenthal, has been wrecking my last nerve! He's always hungry! It doesn't matter if I'm smoking a cigarette or taking a shit, he wants to be right there at my bosom! Even when I'm at a bar having a drink I've got to sneak him in under my sweatshirt. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I make it up onto the stool he starts making noise and moving all around. I've been kicked out of three bars just since he was born!
_

Let's annoy conservatives!

2009-01-20T12:11:00.011-05:00

Conservatives, for the most part, are taking this presidency change well. They've shown restraint, patience, and even a touch of class. Now that America is united once more, it's time for us to piss all over these stupid bastards! So I've thought up a few clever ideas for establishing our liberal dominance once again!

A good way to start is with their families. Use your access as a teacher or babysitter to teach their kids to talk like rappers and intellectuals. Convince their daughter to try lesbianism, communism, or single motherhood. Laugh at their son because he sucks at basketball. If possible, document and report on the youthful indiscretions of their entire family.

The conservatives I know work hard for what they've got. So they'll hate it when you vandalize things in the planned suburban development where they live. Or when you drink up all their delicious cranberry juice. Or throw runny chili all over their nice clean khaki pants. You can add insult to injury by scratching the hell out of their Bonneville with an SOS pad.

Sooner or later, these fools will begin to bitch about things that happen during the Obama presidency. When they do, remind them how this country was founded by liberals and drunks. Accuse them of being anti-American traitors. Tell them to leave if they don't like it, or better yet, to go start their own country.

At that point we should turn the screws. Take away their guns, booze, and softcore pornography. Appoint Marion Barry to the position of Drug Czar. Put gays in charge of the military. Bitch-slap Pat Robertson until his head implodes. Produce a prime time documentary which proves that stem cells could have been used to cure the ills of their heroes, Heston and Reagan.

The most important way to get at them is to punish them for the crimes of their political affiliation. So take the time to explain to them how their beliefs are ignorant and false. Install a dope garden in their basement and report them to the Feds. Dose them with LSD & force them to look right in the face of the cold, shallow life that they've led. Then break their voting hand with a meat tenderizing mallet.

.

What a girl wants!

2009-01-15T11:38:00.003-05:00

As I mentioned in my last post, Phil and I are gettin' hitched! He truly is the prince I've been waiting for! I figured that setting up a few ground rules was the only way to ensure that the fairytale continues. So I've laid out my demands, and Phil has accepted them! It's like a dream come true!

My first demand was a big fat rock for my finger. I told him that I wouldn't settle for less than a 2 carat stone. Phil came through like a champ with a gorgeous ring that must have cost him about 4 months of income from his plumbing business

I've also made him promise to buy me a new house. I've always wanted to live in a big planned community! Something without a bunch of ugly trees, and carpeted in beautiful fake lawns. I love the kinds of houses they have there. I think they call them "McMansions", probably because they're quick to build and totally awesome!

I assured Phil that even though I like the fact that he's an older, more mature gentleman, that distended old nut sack of his has got to go! But I'm not suggesting castration! A simple cosmetic scrotal tuck will do just fine. I'm making him an appointment with a plastic surgeon for next week.

I'm telling you, this is going to be a new start for us for real! So it only makes sense that a few changes should be made. That's why I've told Phil to have his old hound put to sleep. I'm not going to have that goddamn thing stinking up my new house, or barking at the neighbors who live 20 feet away.

There's one more condition, and this one was almost a deal breaker. But I wouldn't back down...not after all the cheating that went on with my last husband! I will not be made the fool! So starting the day after our honeymoon, Phil will be wearing a male chastity kit, which will be locked by me each morning, and unlocked each night upon his return home.

My little bundle of joy!

2009-01-08T12:49:00.007-05:00

I'd like to introduce the world to my new baby boy, Orenthal James Plumbs! My boyfriend Phil was kind enough to sign the birth certificate even though he isn't the real father. We're planning on moving in together and starting a new family. Soon we'll be married and my life will be stable again!

I didn't expect to have the baby so early! I'd gone out with my friends that night, and we were bar hopping all around Shockoe Bottom. I was so stoned on good weed that I didn't feel like drinking very much, but I did feel like finding some action! So I ditched my friends and left with this chubby frat boy I met at Tiki Bob's Cantina.

The kid took me back to his apartment, and we ate a whole bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. I convinced him to try these crazy semen pills I bought that are designed to increase the volume of ejaculate. We finished simultaneously, despite his poor sexual performance, and I was left sitting in a puddle. At first I thought it was just the pills, but then I realized that my water had broke!

I knew I had to move fast, so I smoked a cigarette, took a quick shower, and walked four blocks back to my van. I've had enough kids to know when they're about to pop out, so I thought I had time to stop at the McDonald's drive-thru for a snack wrap on my way to the hospital. Once I got through the line I headed straight to the emergency room. But suddenly it really started to hurt! Either this baby was on the way out, or my urinary tract infection was trying to kill me!

I knew then that there was no way I was going to make it to the hospital in time! So I drove a few blocks over to this physical rehab facility for the elderly that I had to bring Mother to a few years ago when she hurt her back. I pulled into the driveway and rammed my van into the door. I felt like I had to hold the baby in with my hands as I hobbled down the hall and leaped into one of the hydrotherapy tubs.

As soon as I hit the water I was giving birth to my new baby boy! What's weird is how that part didn't hurt at all! After a couple minutes of recovery time, I scooped him up in my fake fur coat and we headed for the hospital to be checked out. On my way there I called Phil and told him to meet us. Despite my joy, I did feel a bit sorry for whoever has to clean up that floater I left in the therapy tub.

25 Unpleasant places to stay!

2009-01-05T15:54:00.007-05:00

The new company I'm working for compiles reviews and reports from customer satisfaction surveys. According to our annual records, these are the 25 worst places to stay in America.

1.Ralph's Flophouse for Uncircumcised Males
2.The Kingdom Comeshot Infidelity Motel
3.KKK Campgrounds and Recreation
4.Mountain View Chigger Nest & Breakfast
5.The Eurotrash Ball Sweat Hostel
6.Rush Limbaugh's Scat Shack
7.The Gushing Bedsore Cabins & Spa
8.Rancid Landfill Vistas
9.The Force-It Inn
10.A tent shared with Andy Dick and a flat-chested Thai boy
11.Rubber Sheet & Corn Oil Manor
12.The Body Temperature DNA Receptacle Motor Lodge
13.Silverfish Tower
14.Jesse Ventura's House of Headbutts
15.The Villas at Dannamora State Prison for the Criminally Insane
16.Unwashed Comforter Econosuites
17.German "Watersports" Fantasy Bungalow
18.Hourly Porno Sets of Central Miami
19.The Weary Traveler Who Suffers from Irregular Discharge
20.The Pillow Humping Migrant Worker Resort & Casino
21.DP Tapeworm's Long Stay Lodge
22.Annoying Chambermaid Luxury Jumbotels
23.The Cider Vomit House of Dublin
24.Lost Kidney Vacation Rentals
25.The pee-soaked couch in Vincent D'Onofrio's basement
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see also:
The nastiest hotel in Richmond!

Hardcore resolutions!

2008-12-31T08:47:00.002-05:00

One of the best things about this country is our spirit of self-improvement. Any one of us can up and change ourselves for the better, because we enjoy the freedom to recreate ourselves whenever we choose. I've realized lately that even I could be a better person. So this year I'm making some resolutions, and taking them seriously!

For one thing, I gonna stop wasting time in the kitchen, and start taking advantage of the affordability of greasy fast food. My kids love it, and so do I, because it gives them a nice shiny coat. I'm also going to scrub all of those stubborn stains off the inside of the tub so my new baby will have somewhere clean to bathe and play while I'm out drinking or getting browned at the tanning salon.

I'm going to call Mother more than once or twice per year. I'm going to make exceptionally good use of my new Christmas bong. I'm going to stop balking at offers made to me by telemarketers. I'm going to take the time to test the reliability of my many homemade weapons. And I'll remove all the stray socks and candy wrappers from behind the furniture.

I plan to exercise at least once in the next twelve months. I'm going to make millions by placing tiny classified ads. I'm going to give an innocent stranger the middle finger at least once per day. And I'll do my best to eat a vegetable every week. I'll make the kids wear their seatbelts, and I'll no longer harass my coworkers by eating beef jerky in an erotic way

I could certainly improve my driving. I'll slow down and pretend that I'm not going anyplace in particular. I'll stop using my turn signals, and focus on taking slower, more deliberate turns off of busy roads. I'm going to set up a Netflix account so we'll have better DVDs to watch in the van. I'm also going to stop wasting my money on frivolous car insurance

I'm going to start being nicer to fat people and gay people, and in exchange I'll be a little bit meaner towards fat gay people. I'm going to do a better job of learning from my horoscopes. I'm going to give that electric bread maker another a try. And one day this year I'll go down to the soup kitchen and serve up a hearty stew made from every old pillow in the house. I'm getting one of my teeth capped in gold. And I'm gonna get laid more often by less people.

All my exes live in Richmond!

2008-12-30T08:09:00.005-05:00

If you've ever lived in Richmond then you know what a small town it can be. You can barely leave the damn house without running into past acquaintances, former coworkers, and of course, romantic exes. It's always awkward when you have to greet someone you haven't seen in a long time, but more especially when it's someone you've dated!

I'm quite popular with the fellas, so I'm always seeing old lovers out and about. If he's alone I'll usually either ignore him or give him a disinterested nod. But if he happens to be with a woman, it's different. For some reason I've just got to make the situation unbearable for all concerned!

I start out with a hello, and wait for an introduction to his companion. Then, as I shake her hand weakly, I look her over from her shoes all the way to her face. By the time we make eye contact I've got a nostril raised in disgust. Then I start ignoring the woman completely. I ask my ex how his mother or house pet is doing. Then I gaze longingly as he's answering the question.

Sometimes I'll flirt in an obvious manner to make his new girlfriend or wife feel threatened and uncomfortable. Other times I'll emasculate him by implying jokingly that he's a lousy lover, or incapable of taking care of himself or anyone else. If the mood is right I'll suggest that one of my kids might be his. It's also fun to coyly request his new cell phone number!

The best things to say are the things they don't expect. I'll say that I've been looking all over for him because he might have an STD. I'll subtly hint that he still owes me money for an old used car, or a long forgotten abortion. Then I start groping myself and talking about how much I miss him! It's about that time that he will politely end the conversation and walk away in a hurry, and I know that my work is done.

Super secret Santa!

2008-12-22T11:25:00.007-05:00

I've been settling in nicely at my new job. I'm getting to know everyone, and while we've all been getting along well enough, I've noticed how clueless some of them seem to be about their shortcomings. That's why I decided to play Santa this year, and give everyone a little something special!

I was somehow able to pick out most of their gifts while browsing through Big Lots, which was nice, because these gifts were about thought rather than price. I started by grabbing a package of control top pantyhose for Susan, our secretary, because she has a gut that just won't quit. Then I bought a box of Biore pore strips for the HR lady, Helen, who has a mess of really thick blackheads all over her T-zone.

I picked up a bottle of Febreze for Amy, our accounts receivable girl, because she always smells like a trailer home full of unwashed Mastiffs. And I went with a large pack of generic Dexatrim for Trisha, the accounts manager, because it would be nice if she finally got thin so she could get past her obvious eating disorder once and for all!

Tooth whitener was the obvious choice for Darryl, the only male in our office (and the only one of us with a mouth full of rotting teeth!). Then there's Bonnie, one of my file clerks. She's always getting called into the school because of her shitty little troublemaker son, so I got her The Complete Idiot's Guide to Raising Boys.

My other file clerk, Leah, always has her frizzy hair balled up like a rat's nest, so I got her a bottle of leave-in conditioner. I had a hard time thinking of something nice for Simone, who handles our outgoing mail. I decided on a pack of moist toilet wipes, because she always leaves the bathroom smelling like diarrhea.

It was important to me to make this a surprise! So yesterday, when nobody was working, I came in and left gift bags on everybody's desk. I even left a bag with a new hairbrush in it on my own desk so nobody would think it was me who left all those presents! Unfortunately I took this week off, so I wasn't able to see the look on everyone's faces when they open their gifts!

Quick hints for a happy Holiday!

2008-12-19T07:16:00.006-05:00

A few simple tips for a joyous Christmas season!

Fun Christmastime activities:

- Sit on your roof and shoot at flying objects
- Fill the kids' Christmas stockings with runny ricotta cheese
- Instead of a tree, display your gifts under a hanging, gutted deer
- Slam on the breaks when your car starts to skid on ice
- Spread your flu germs all over the office potluck
- Make love to a snowman until the frostbite becomes unbearable
- Slap your Uncle on the tits for playing the Chipmunks Christmas album
- Eat the candy you found in the toe of last year's Christmas stocking

Christmas gifts that will go unappreciated:

- Vintage white underwear with a crusty old elastic waistband
- The head of a beloved pet, stuffed and mounted
- Fannypack full of used up phone cards
- Two big mean baboons
- Repulsive Christmas themed lingerie for men
- Voucher for a week at the Camp for Fat Kids
- An oblong personal massager from Grandpa
- Hunting cap with big fake antlers stuck on it
- Used "Juggs" magazine and a bottle of corn husker's lotion

Holiday safety warnings:
- Beware of ugly chicks with mistletoe on their hats
- Drunk Driving is safer if you've got a plow on your truck
- That fake spray-on snow is settling in your lungs right now
- Egg nog, rum balls, and loose women can be a dangerous combination
- Use a stun-gun to help break through those crowds at the Mall
- Top-heavy women should avoid the use of Sno-tubes
- If an elf starts humping your leg you should just let it finish
- Be careful to give no more than you receive
- Don't be fooled by the big lie: most snowflakes are exactly the same

More jolly ideas from Jocelyn's Corner:

Spreading your holiday cheer!

Christmas shopping made easy!

There's nothing like free drinks!

2008-12-17T09:27:00.005-05:00

I had a good ol' time at a bar last night! I'd never been there before (and will probably never go again), so I felt comfortable with being myself and letting loose! The regulars seemed impressed with the way I was pounding drinks through the entire happy hour. I was so busy chugging that had to let my cigarettes just smolder away in the ash tray!

Just before happy hour ended a few British ex-patriots showed up and bought me a pint. You really can't have a better time at a bar than when British people are in the house! By the time we were done singing and telling jokes I was half in the bag! But they soon left without saying goodbye. I guess they'd never seen a pregnant woman dancing on a pinball machine before!

I normally don't order food at a bar, but the baby started kicking, so I decided to slow him down with a double order of greasy onion rings! When I was done scarfing those down I made it over to the games area, where I beat a sweetheart ex-convict in a game of billiards. Easiest $50 I'd made all day. I managed to mess up his shots by showing off my assets from across the table. Real men just can't help but be distracted by my lovely lady lumps!

After he left I ordered myself a Bud Lite, along with a round of Bushmills shots for everyone at the bar. Once those were gone things really stared dying down, and I began thinking about heading home. I had been building a rapport with the bartender all night. I told him that I needed some smokes, but I only smoked Parliments, which they don't sell there. Then I told him (as I headed to the door) to pour me another beer, and that I'd be right back from the mini-mart next door.

As he may have suspected, I had no plans to return. I simply drove off without ever paying my tab. I've gotta say that of all the things that drinking inspires me to do, stealing from idiots is by far my favorite! On my way home I smoked a fat bowl of dank weed, and laughed about how stupid and trusting that bartender had been!

Spreading your holiday cheer!

2008-12-15T08:02:00.002-05:00

I like to get in the Christmas spirit as early as possible. With my shopping done, and my Christmas plans made, I can focus on all the good things that make the season bright! Real Christmas spirit requires some effort. You can't just dance foolishly in a skin tight outfit of bright red felt and expect the spirit to fall into your lap!

Decoration is a nice way to start. I set up a fake snowman on our porch with garbage bags of used disposable diapers. Then I make the front door more welcoming by hanging a festive wreath of dog skulls. I also like to place a dish on the bathroom counter filled with holiday-themed novelty condoms that I buy from the truck stop restroom. And I decorate myself by wearing a colorful designer scarf, like some kind of Euro-trash.

Another time honored way to get in the Christmas spirit is to do a few nice things for others. I've delighted hundreds of neighborhood rodents by leaving loaves of candied-mealworm fruitcake all around the yard. I'm also planning to dress Muffin, our Rottie, in a traditional reindeer costume and bring him downtown late at night to greet homeless people. And next week, when my neighbors go out of town, I plan to donate all their belongings to the Salvation Army.

There are even a few little personal things we can do for just for ourselves that can make us feel festive. So tell your kids a story about the time Santa stepped on a kitten. Use a stick of Hickory Farms beef as underarm deodorant. Put on a Santa suit and get your fat ass lodged inside your own chimney. Try to break open some Brazil nuts with your fingernails. Or just head to the mall and give Santa a wet soapy lap dance in front of all the kids.

Of course the holidays come with their own stresses, so be sure to blow off steam when necessary. The best way to do this is by punishing the naughty. Maybe bludgeon that bitchy clerk at the Kmart returns counter with a giant Hershey's Kiss. Strangle a drunk with a lovely strand of garland. Go "Boston Tea Party" on that cookie store in the mall. Or use your crab ridden genitals to make manly love to all the Christmas stockings at Wal-mart.

Representin' with Critical Mass!

2008-12-10T14:16:00.013-05:00

I usually avoid exercise in all it's forms, but I've gotta admit that I have the best time participating in something they call Critical Mass! A Critical Mass is what happens when folks get together to ride bicycles through a city in large groups. Everyone rides side-by-side to take up the whole road and create a fun-filled nuisance! Obnoxious bicyclists really piss me off when I'm driving , so it's just nice to turn the tables and be the annoying bicyclist for a change!

It was by pure chance that I even discovered this group. I was driving the van home from a bar one weekend afternoon, and I decided to cut through some weird neighborhood to avoid passing any cops. I saw a group of young people on bicycles with flags and stuff, all laughing and riding around together. Something inside me made me want to get out and join them!

By coincidence I had a 3-wheeled bicycle in the back of my van that I'd stolen the week before (from some moron who parked it in front of a halfway home). It worked out so well that I now bring it with me every time! It's got a nice big basket behind the seat that I can use to carry snacks and blunt objects. The extra wheel also provides stability, so I can play an active roll in all the shenanigans!

What I like is how Critical Mass is made up of all kinds, and how it changes a little every time. Of course you always get those dudes who dress like bike messengers because their whole identity is wrapped up in fixed-gear bikes. And you're sure to see a few smelly VCU Fan rats who show up way too sober to be riding an old pink banana seat bike. But these events also attract plenty of real people like me, who hold down steady jobs, pay mortgages, and raise kids (when I'm not raising Hell!).

The whole thing is really just your typical sort of protest, in that everyone participates as a statement for their own specific agenda. This spirit makes it all the more exciting because anything can happen! You never know if the guy next to you is going to wave a homemade flag, sing a song, or throw a Snapple bottle full of piss through the back window of a parked SUV! And due to the disorganization and lack of specific route for the rides, we tend to avoid any advanced scrutiny by authorities!

So about once per month I drive out to join the Critical Mass, and do my part to aggravate automobile drivers. A few of these drivers think it's cute at first, but sooner or later they get angry because they actually have someplace to go. Some honk, or yell. Some swerve back and forth a little to intimidate us. If they specifically tell us to get out of the road we scream, "We're traffic too!", or, "Eat shit!".

We know we've succeeded when the drivers start getting aggressive. That's when a couple of us drag them out of their cars and beat them with a bike lock right in front of their kids. A few people in the group pretend that they don't want us to beat those people up, which just shows you how silly these kids can be! Occasionally I'll find myself cramping up and gasping for breath because I'm punching and laughing so hard!

Christmas shopping made easy!

2008-12-08T13:07:00.005-05:00

The way most people do their Christmas shopping just makes me sick. Waiting in stupid long lines for Black Friday specials. Putting tons of new debt on their credit cards. Wasting their hard earned money on gobs of overpriced crap that none of them even need. It's depressing, and it's senseless. This season should be about having fun, and not about spending a lot of money!

You won't find me at those Black Friday sales until just after the stores open. I park my van in a handicapped accessible spot, and watch those first few lucky customers come striding out, smiling over the purchase of a few limited supply items. I follow them from that parking lot to wherever they shop next. Most of them head to the mall. Then, once they've gone inside, I perform a quick smash and grab out of their parked car. Nothing could be easier! Phil is really going to love his new 36" HD television!

Another fun way to stock up on holiday fun is to steal packages from people's doorsteps. I bought the cutest little UPS girl outfit a few Halloweens ago, and it's becoming an indispensable part of my holiday routine. Nobody even notices me when I'm out on my lunch break, hitting up front stoops of houses for a "pick-up". It's nice when the companies put their logos on the shipping boxes so you know what you're getting. I hope my three year old enjoys her new laptop computer!

There's also the option of charitable sources, like Toys for Tots. I apply to those programs with falsified information so my kids can get a few extra gifts out of it. You should see the look on those volunteers faces when they have to deliver that stuff to our well furnished townhouse! But this method doesn't allow you to select what types of toys they bring. So go out earlier in the month and rummage around in their donation bins at the front of stores, and in office buildings. That kid-sized robotic dinosaur I snagged is going to knock little Brandon's socks off!

My final technique is a no-brainer. Folks are always looking for babysitters this time of year. All you need to do is post a few signs up on bulletin boards. Once the baby is asleep you can snag a few items from under their tree and move it out to your trunk before they get home. If you can find extra wrapping paper around you can always empty the boxes and rewrap them. This way you won't arouse any suspicion. My daughter is going to be so excited when she opens up the sassy new Dallas Cowboys jacket I took for her, and all the baby toys I swiped will be perfect for welcoming her unborn baby!

How I got my first job!

2008-12-05T08:24:00.004-05:00

It's fun to think back to those awkward days when I was just a brace-faced teenager. We all remember the excitement of getting our first job, and the thrilling prospects of making our own money. Unfortunately, I didn't get the first job I applied for. But going after it gave me my very first opportunity to stand up to tyranny!

I was intially full of confidence, because three of the other girls from my high school bowling team had already been hired at this one bar & grill. The owner, who resembled John Leguizamo's character from the movie Spawn, was notorious for only hiring cute teenage girls for the waitress positions. So I put on my demure little prairie girl dress and skipped on in there to see if I could seduce him out of a part-time position!

I walked in, found the man, and didn't get two sentences into my spiel before he took me aside and explained that I wasn't even fit to charm the customers who showed up on "all-you-can-eat pickled egg night". He also said that my wolfy looking legs didn't help, and neither did the dark red hair above my lip. As he escorted me to the front door, he told me to maybe come back in a couple years when I'd, "stopped dressing like an Amish retard".

So my first teenage job was to send this motherfucker's life crashing down all around him! Over the course of the next month I called his wife anonymously, every three days, to coyly insinuate that there was something about her husband that she didn't know. His pale, chubby daughter happened to be a freshman at my high school, so I spread a rumor about her having Hepatitis C. The nickname "Hepatitis Girl" managed to follow her all the way through community college!

The final phase of my retribution was a master stroke! That Boss "Hogg" bastard drove an immaculate white Cadillac, with pristine all-white leather interior. One night I took the metal bucket full of cigarette butts and chewing tobacco spit that the kitchen staff kept by the back door of the restaurant, and I set it up in the back seat of his car. As he drove himself home that night the bucket rocked back and forth, until it eventually tipped over and dumped it's payload all over the seats!

Finally, towards the middle of the summer, I secured my first paying job. My uncle managed the service garage for one of the major dealerships in town, and he hired me on. It was a sweet job, flirting with the greasy mechanics, and accepting payments from customers for the Service and Parts department. It was also hilarious, because we would rip the customers off big time! Some customers would bitch, some would cry, and some would just quietly pay while secretly fighing back a world of rage! I can't say that I blamed them. $70 to glue a rear view mirror back on is some bullshit!

25 Rejected Underwear Prototypes!

2008-12-03T08:53:00.015-05:00

The company I just quit from is in the business of testing new products before they go to market. My office managed the billing of their various corporate clients, which gave me access to all of the testing data.

Here are the 25 worst underwear prototypes we've ever tested:

1.Scabbies for Women
2.The Pink Panther Fiberglass Filled Codpiece
3.BVD Chewables
4.Pledge Lemon-Scented Nut Sling
5.Mr. Crotch
6.Richard Simmons's Technicolor Dreamstraps
7.Wedgemasters
8.Chiggers & Co.
9.The Bovine Collection from Dress Barn
10.Señor Pelvis's Pants Piñatas
11.Saran Wrap Disposable Skidmark Singles
12.Hot Pockets Pepperoni & Cheese Casuals
13.Wilford Brimley's Huskyboy Underoos
14.Smucker's Stainproof Raspberry Briefs
15.Bounty Paper Skivvies
16.Charlie Sheen Signature Series Crotchless Thongs for Women
17.Wetnap Premoistened Boxers
18.Columbian Mule Brand, with comfy contraband smuggling design
19.Pope Benny's "Touchably-Soft" for boys
20.Jello Jockstrap Jigglers
21.Ron Jeremy Ball Hair Control Jockeys with Baking Soda
22.Depends "Waterloggers", The Swim Pants for Seniors!
23.Frito's Chili & Cheese Dippin' Drawers
24.Brillo Steel Wool G-String
25."Lock-ups" Prison Bitch Training Pants

_

Missing: One tooth!

2008-12-01T08:08:00.011-05:00

As some of you may have noticed, I live a hardcore punk rock lifestyle. I go my own way. I don't limit myself based on accepted social norms, or bend to the will of so-called authority figures. The best thing about being punk as fuck is making personal choices that will disturb all the squares. That is why I'm not replacing this tooth!

I vividly remember the night that I lost it. I was at some dumpy "all ages" club watching a local rock band. Almost the entire crowd was 15-year-olds, a few parents, and me. The kids didn't want to get too close to the stage, so I hopped into the semi-circle gap between the crowd and the stage. I must have been pretty boozy, 'cause I was whipping my hair to the music and slam-dancing with the front row.

This went on for several minutes until the bouncer grabbed my arm, dragged me outside, and assured me that nobody in there wanted to mosh. Dejected, I stumbled my way towards a few other clubs. A group of crusty squatter punks called me over to the doorway they were sitting in. They told me they were travelling and looking for a place to party. I thought they were pretty cool so I took them to one of my old lover's apartments. I still had a key, and knew that he'd be out for the night tending bar.

After an hour of emptying the fridge, drinking his vodka, and messing up the place, me and the one dude with liberty spikes decided to head out for some cigarettes. The streets were empty, and we were loud! Somehow I ended up on the roof of a parked car, using my right heel to kick out the windshield. That's when I slipped and fell face-first onto the curb. When I got up my new friend was gone and so was my front tooth!

While waiting a week for my dental appointment, I started noticing how people were treating me differently. Strangers stopped trying to argue with me. Employees of businesses I frequent just gave me whatever I asked for. They clearly didn't want to have to deal with me for any length of time. I couldn't believe how much character had been added to my otherwise average-looking face!

I must have also become more approachable, because I started meeting more guys, and fewer of them were bothered by the fact that I was married. After thinking long and hard I went ahead and had the dentist check out the condition of my teeth and gums. He was surprised when I told him that I didn't want to replace the tooth I'd lost. Why I should bother with a partial? The new look has been working out fine!

A Thanksgiving that doesn't suck!

2008-11-26T09:10:00.013-05:00

Thanksgiving this year is going to be great, because I won't have to spend it with my ex-husband Kevin's stupid family. Those jerkoffs don't have a clue of how to do it up right. They always serve too many fancy appetizers, so everybody fills up before the meal even starts. Then they like to watch those parades on TV, which is nothing but a bunch of inflatable characters that are so old that none of the kids even recognize them.

The food they serve is what bothers me most. His idiot mother's turkey is as dry as a popcorn fart. The cranberry sauce doesn't have enough sugar, and the sweet potatoes don't even have marshmallows on top! His decrepit Grandmother insists on making that old fashioned guts n' onion stuffing that everybody hates. They serve cheap dinner rolls that don't soak up gravy worth a damn. And to add insult to injury, they have the nerve to make my children sit at the dehumanizing "kid's table"!

Come to think of it, everything about their house was terrible for Thanksgiving! It's bad enough that they've got the nasty pink padded toilet seat, but how am I supposed to work with single-ply toilet paper after the biggest dump of my life? Of course after dinner these assholes watch football games non-stop. I got so bored one year that I ended up drinking too much red wine and dancing topless with his fat aunt.

Then they've got all these goddamn little kids running around while I'm trying to take a turkey nap. That's just as well, since the living room couches are too short to lay on, and of course the recliner doesn't go all the way back. So the only option is the upstairs guest room, which is a bitch to get to when you're so full that you can't even walk erect. After relaxing for a while they drag everybody to the theater to take in the worst movie available.

So this year I'm happy to be keeping it to my immediate family. Luckily, Mother is stuck in that nursing home, so I don't need to worry about her inviting all our gnarly relatives from out of town to show up here and expect me to put them up for the week. (One thing I promised myself early on was that I'd never let smelly relatives take over my kid's rooms during holidays like my parents used to do to us.) None of my worthless relatives get along that well anyway, so good riddance!

I've got the food bank coming today with a nice Thanksgiving care package, which is really a time saver for me more than anything else. We can afford way better, but why turn down free food, am I right? Then Phil is taking us to the dump where we're going to hunt rodents with his paint ball guns! You know what they say! "The family that preys together, stays together"! Finally, we'll settle in on the couch to watch The Shining. I hope my three year old loves it as much as I did when I was her age!

.

Pregnancy loves company!

2008-11-24T11:59:00.005-05:00

I'm just over 7 months pregnant now. It's insufferable. I'm having a difficult time finding new guys who want to get with me, and nobody wants to sell me any drugs, which I need because I'm moody as hell. That makes me even angrier! I really need to get high sometimes. I can't risk messing up my new job by losing my temper. Hell, I can't even relax when I'm supposed to!

Like on Saturday. I was out at the club, gettin' my drink on and dancing a little. It had been a pretty weak night, until I caught the attention of a half dozen Mexican construction workers. They started talking about trying to bring me back to their motel room. Suddenly this rat-faced little bitch stomps over and gets right in my face, saying she was with them and that they had no interest in me anyway.

Normally I'm too smart to get violent. But you know I can't have no smelly, pockmarked slut pointing in my face and blowin' up my spot! As if her insults weren't enough, her stank breath just about turned my stomach. I walked off, took a seat across the bar, and began to bide my time. I continued to keep an eye on her without raising suspicion.

After about an hour I saw her heading towards the ladies room. I followed. I entered quietly and listened. She sounded like a cow pissing on a flat rock. Then she flushed, opened the stall door, and met with one powerful burst of orange dyed mace from the can that I keep in my purse! As she screamed and reached for her eyes, I smacked her in the nose as hard as I could. Then I turned, kicked open the bathroom door, and moved casually towards the exit.

My hand was burning all night from that mace, and it'll probably be stained orange for a week! It's a good thing my new job doesn't start until then, or I'd have some explaining to do! It would be nice to tell somebody though, just to vent! All this stress and bullshit does not make for a healthy pregnancy. Life can really pile it on like that sometimes!

So you can probably imagine how delighted I was to hear some good news! My daughter Darla is pregnant now too! Granted she's only 15, but we've got the money to support another child, so what's the harm? In a way I feel I need to help her take responsibility for this baby, because I've given her all kinds of hell for stealing condoms from my bedside drawer. I wanted her to buy her own, and I know how inconvenient that can be. Now she's going to learn how inconvenient a baby can be!

Revenge of the working class!

2008-11-20T09:50:00.006-05:00

The word has come down that the company I work for has been bought out, and my branch will most likely be shut down before too long. It's a bit of a coincidence, as I've been applying all over town for a new job these last couple months, and I happen to be sitting on a fresh offer for a higher paying position at a new company just down the road. Even though this is all working out for me, and I could just change jobs and move on quietly, I still feel like I've got a reason to be angry!

When the director of our branch heard about the buyout she just quit outright. That was before the rest of us even found out about it. So considering that I'm the office manager, and that I'm sitting on this new job offer, I figured I'd follow her lead, walk out, and leave my own mark to show the new owners my displeasure. The new company is sending their H.R. person in next week, and I wanted to make certain that she hears about my actions from my coworkers!

Everyone in the office was so worked up about the buyout that they all went out for lunch together to talk about it. I stayed behind. This was my chance to carry out my carefully planned exit. I figured that the most critical move was to walk out without telling anyone how to do those few important things that only I know how to do. Anything else I might do would be gravy!

So the I dug around in an empty desk and found an old system login password from a girl who I recently fired, and used it to log on to our system and deliberately screw up some of our customers' accounts (the only thing that the new owners really care about). Also, I used her corporate email account to send a vicious "up yours!" message to the company-wide email group.

I grabbed a trash bag from the supply closet and started trashing vital items from all around the office. First the 3-hole punch, then all the files in the "N-R" cabinet of our client folders. I also tossed the last two cans of sugar from the coffee station, and the ink cartridges from out of the printers and Xerox machine.

Then I ran out to the car, stashed the garbage bag, and grabbed my duffel bag of secret weapons, including two rats from my son's pet rat cage. I taped them up inside of a paper towel tube and stuffed the tube into the back of the coat closet. Based on my experience, those rats should have eaten their way out of the tube by the evening. Once freed they will undoubtedly make a nest and breed.

I went back to the break room, where I shoved a couple of bagels into our double toaster and pushed the lever down. When that old toaster is stuffed with bagels the little toast ejector thing is unable to pop up, so it doesn't stop toasting until they're completely burned to shit. Then I made my way over to that bitch Sarah's desk. I opened up the base of her computer mouse and stuffed the insides with a hearty fingerful of wet cat food.

Just before leaving for good I completed one final act of defiance by enjoying my last paid defecation in the building's bathroom. Thanks to last night's drinking I worked up a particularly nasty dump, and deliberately refrained from flushing it down. Then, just before exiting the building, I used my office manager key to enter the janitor's closet, surveyed the plumbing valves, and shut off the water flow to the restrooms. Then I locked the closet door behind me so that nobody would be able to flush anything until the janitor was called in to check it out.

It's up to us to save the environment!

2008-11-17T09:04:00.010-05:00

It seems like everybody and their bisexual cousin is talking about the environment these days. It has even become a fashionable topic in the worlds of politics, business, and scientific study. Of course a few small-minded folks still think it's okay to sit on ass and wait for greater minds to come up with the solutions. But the rest of us have come to realize that we all need to take positive steps as individuals in order to make a true impact.

Climatologists been warning us since the 1980s about the CFCs that are present in many spray cans. CFCs contribute to greenhouse gases or deteriorating the ozone or something. So when you use things like hair products and spray paint you should try to avoid spraying them directly. Instead you should spray the product into a rag, huff on the rag until the fumes dissipate, and then apply to the intended surface.

Reducing what ends up in landfills is also a major goal of the environmentally conscious. So burn whatever you can rather than throwing it away, especially larger items like mattresses and refrigerators. And never throw out something that you can reuse. I always keep a pile of old batteries and dead lighters in my purse that I can throw at strangers who annoy me, like pedestrians who take an unnecessarily long time to cross the street in front of my car.

You're not supposed to put oils and stuff in a landfill either. So when it's time to change your oil just park the car next to a curb that has a storm drain. Remove the drain plug in your car's oil pan, drain the dirty oil into the storm drain, and replace the drain plug. Pour new oil into your engine and you're good to go! Rather than soaking into the ground, that old oil will flow out into nearby waterways, where it will eventually dilute out of existence, or break down into it's basic elements!

I've been committed to these kinds of important measures, and I've even managed to come up with a few techniques of my own. I've put my mind to cutting down on what we use, with a focus on saving money! I've been lowering the totals on our costly water bill by making the kids bathe together, and forcing them to poop in the back yard. I've also found that a condom can be reused if you simply turn it inside out and wipe it off with a dry paper towel.

25 things you shouldn't put in your mouth!

2008-11-14T09:21:00.006-05:00

Kids these days are always picking things up and putting them in their mouths. Even the most attentive parents are simply unable to slap every unclean object out their of their children's hands in time. So I've prepared this handy list you can give to your kids so they'll know which items are ineligible for tasting:

1.That filthy ring of keys that Mommy carries around
2.Your bacteria-caked fingernails
3.Stray sock matted into the ground at a 4-way stop
4.Cigarette butts discovered in a rental car ashtray
5.The 3-foot-long tapeworm you just lured out of your ass
6.Orthodontic retainer salvaged from a junkyard
7.Those greenish defective potato chips
8.Broken pager you found on the floor at the movie theater
9.Harmonica clutched in the grubby hand of a dead hobo
10.Mangled condom wrapper that a pigeon was messing with
11.Toe nail clipping that hits you in the face on a city bus
12.Unwrapped Starburst melted onto a car's floor mat
13.Pacifier left behind in the bathroom at a rave
14.Large floppy titty sticking through a hole in the wall
15.Deep fried bird head that turns up in box of chicken nuggets
16.Rented porno cassette slathered in stranger lube
17.Severed goiter from a dumpster full of medical waste
18.Any penny, no matter the circumstances
19.Orange Tic-Tac the cat has been batting around all day
20.One large hoop earring you bought at the thrift store
21.Tommy Lee's loathsome member
22.Half of a peanut stuck to the rim of a public toilet seat
23.Broken crack stem from a Richmond city playground
24.Car wash token retrieved out of a toll booth coin return
25.Crusty, nose blood covered Kleenex from an old coat pocket

Harassment at the movie theater!

2008-11-11T12:51:00.007-05:00

My three year old daughter, little Jailen, has been throwing tantrums all week over this Madagascar sequel that they've been advertising the hell out of. So I loaded her and 8 year old Brandon into the van on Saturday afternoon so we could take in a matinee. I packed the rest of their leftover Halloween candy and a gallon jug of cider into my biggest purse.

The kids were thirsty so I let them have some cider on the drive over. The parking lot was a goddamn zoo, as always, but we managed to find a spot near the back. Of course the ticket line was stretched all the way down the edge of the building! By the time we got up to where we could see the board it was obvious that the showing of Madagascar we wanted was sold out, and the next one wasn't for 45 minutes. I decided to take them to see Role Models instead and hope that Jailen didn't notice.

Role Models is R rated, which is fine. But the previews were rated R as well, and there was this one horror movie preview that scared the hell out of all of us. It had a crab walking dead guy and everything. Jailen started screaming and covering up her face with her jacket. Brandon just covered his eyes and sat there petrified. Once it ended they calmed down for me and manged to recover for the most part.

When the feature started I broke out the snacks. I could barely hear the screen over the sound of our candy wrappers because all our treats were "fun size". The kids fought over certain treats, and we passed the cider jug back and forth and everything was pretty swell. We also had a good laugh because Jailen kept tearing her M&M bags open way too hard, sending candies through the air and onto the floor.

For a while things were quiet and the kids didn't seem to notice that we weren't watching Madagascar. But then I learned something I didn't know. Jailen must be allergic to cider or apples, because she really started stinking up the place! I wasn't sure if she'd filled her diaper or what. She also seemed to have slipped into some kind of sugar coma, so I decided to ignore her, because at least she was behaving.

The movie was funny enough, but so damn nasty, with lots of swearing and sex jokes. Brandon kept asking me what they were talking about, and I did my best to explain. It was kind of annoying because I was also trying to hold a text conversation with Phil on my Blackberry. The screen on that thing is so damn bright that every time I looked back up at the movie screen I was seeing spots.

Some guy behind us got annoyed at our chatter, so he leaned forward and asked if we would please shut up and turn off our phone. I turned off the phone as he was talking, and that's when the usher came in. Then the usher left, and soon returned with the manager. He pointed at the guy who had been talking to us. The manager took they guy out to the end of the aisle and told him to be quiet or be removed.

By the time the manager walked out it was almost time for Madagascar to start in the next theater over, so I woke Jailen up and quietly led her and Brandon up the aisle and out to the bathroom. I changed her diaper, then brought them into the Madagascar theater and put them in some seats. Then I went back out, asked for the manager, and told him that the man sitting behind us in Role Models was still talking and acting drunk and needed to be removed. Then I went back to sit with the kids. I've gotta say, Madagascar was really funny, and a lot of fun!

If you don't know, now you know!

2008-11-09T14:49:00.004-05:00

I've received a number of nasty comments over the past several months, many of them too rude to print. The one reader misconception of me that I don't understand is the idea that I'm somehow giving poor single mothers a bad name. This makes absolutely no sense to me, mostly because I'm not poor! I probably put away more money in a year than most of you do. The fact is, I enjoy a pretty decent income, and I'm really good with my money!

It's always been my priority to make sure that I've got plenty of cash coming in. My cushy office job pays me over $45,000 a year plus benefits. Then I've got my child support checks, and a welfare check that I receive under my maiden name. Also, back when we were married, Kevin's father died. Kevin was stationed over in Iraq, so he missed the funeral, among other details. He was one of the main beneficiaries, and since I was handling things for him at the time I arranged for the check to be sent to me instead. I just never told him about it!

Now that I've put my mom in the nursing home I've got an additional bill to pay. Of course it's no trouble, because I'm resourceful. I'll be using the proceeds from the sale of her house and her Social Security checks to pay for her stay, with a generous chunk of change left over. Opportunities like this one are reassuring, because I'm gettin' up there myself, and at this stage in my life it's really all about stackin' the Benjamins! But you can't just bring in money and expect everything to work itself out. You've gotta be smart with it!

That's why I also go to great lengths to protect my rights as a consumer, go out of my way to cut down on costs, and even take time to get my kids involved with supplementing my income whenever possible. I realize that these activities might make me seem poor or cheap to some of you, but I don't think there's anything wrong with being frugal. I guess we'll see who's right in our golden years, when I'm enjoying the highest quality assisted living available, and the rest of you are being abused in some cut rate nursing home like the one I put mother in!

Takin' a pot shot!

2008-11-05T12:38:00.007-05:00

I'd like to start today's post with a big fat "Thanks for nothing!" to all you jerks for not doing a write-in for Hillary yesterday like we agreed! Now we're stuck with this Obama character. Yeah, maybe his inspiring words remind people all over the world about all the great things that America stands for. But so what? What do I get out of that?

I'm sorry, but I have very little confidence that his plans for redistributing wealth are going to work out as well as the Republicans have promised. And tax breaks only benefit those who actually pay their taxes. So forgive me if I reserve my celebrating for when I receive my first big fat socialist money redistribution check!

Aside from standing in the rain for an hour and a half just to throw my vote away, something else happened yesterday which forced me to take a stand for my rights in a more direct way. Y'all know I don't ask for much, but I do demand a little peace and quiet while I use the toilet. This is my "me" time, where I meditate, and get away from the stupid slags in my office.

There are only two stalls in the restroom I use, which is down in the building's main hallway. There's the handicapped accessible stall (that's the one I like), and there's the one regular stall next to it. In order to maintain my privacy, I usually pull the door shut on the regular stall before going into the other, so it looks like they're both occupied.

Usually this setup works beautifully. But yesterday some bitch came in there in a hurry while I was wiping (and playing Solitaire on my iPod). She checked both stall doors, pulled the second door free, and made her way inside and onto the seat. Not only was I aggravated by having my privacy disturbed, but this person didn't even give me time to get up out of there before letting loose with what sounded like a broken garbage bag full of Brunswick stew.

I decided that this ho had to be made an example of. So I put my iPod into my purse, pulled my pants up, and prepared a little surprise. I wadded up a giant ball of toilet paper and sanitary seat covers, dipped it all the way into the toilet, and tossed it over the wall of the stall. As she screamed with surprise, I leaped out of my stall, flipped off the light, and ran down the hall back to my company's office. I must say, it felt damn good to stand up for myself!

Birthday bowling blow-out!

2008-11-01T08:37:00.004-04:00

Wednesday was Brandon's 8th birthday, so Phil and I took him, his sisters, and his little friend Andrew to the bowling alley. I had tried to invite some of his other friends, but their moms said that they didn't want to come because Brandon is a bully. That's okay by me, cause I don't really want him hanging out with boys who can't take a punch in the stomach.

On the way to the party we stopped off to throw my mom into a nursing home. The kids weren't too thrilled with it, and I certainly don't like giving up my full-time babysitter. But she needs to be looked after, because she's starting to become forgetful. You wouldn't believe the number of times she has forwarded me old stupid email jokes over the last 10 years.

She hasn't really wanted to babysit the kids much anyway, and it's kind of a pain to drive down the street to her house. So instead I just put the kids in their rooms and let Muffin out of the laundry room to guard the house. The brats won't set foot outside of their rooms when Muffin is on the prowl!

Luckily the kids were done crying by the time we arrived at the bowling alley. We got them all rounded up inside, and I payed for all our shoes. I love stupid rental bowling shoes. They have a way of bringing us all down to the same level. I think if a hot dog burp could somehow be transformed into a shoe, it would look like a bowling shoe.

Another good thing about a bowling alley is that you don't have to wash your hands in between throws and eating their tasty fried finger foods. And for some reason the beer just seems stronger than at home. I'm usually so shit-faced by the second game that I get the attendant to install the bumpers! They're happy to do it, because Phil is in a league team. That's like being a made man!

After our third game I asked Phil to get the kids into the van while I returned the shoes and paid up. While he was ushering them all out the door I shoved the bowling shoes into a little pile under some of the seats. I casually strolled across the room over to the other set of lanes, then cut a diagonal to the door when nobody seemed to be looking. As soon as I got out the door I sprinted to the van, and drove off.

One minute later and we're on the highway. As easy as it was, that little maneuver saved me about $70! The kids wanted to go to an arcade after that, but I had a better idea. I drove us over to the Toys "R" Us, and let them go inside and run wild. While they were gone me and Phil played "slap-and-tickle" in the van. If you ever wondered how condoms ended up on the ground in parking lots, well, now you know!

We got hit by the jackpot!

2008-10-28T07:31:00.008-04:00

Finally, some good news! I got in a car wreck!

Sunday is the day I try to spend time with the kids. I took the little ones out for a drive in the morning, and let them throw trash at bicyclists from the passenger window. Then my teenage daughter and I headed out to rummage through this one outdoor donation bin, which is almost always overflowing by Sunday night. We picked out a couple of cute tops, and I found a garbage bag full of bras! That's the biggest score I've had since the time I swiped a whole pile of thongs from the dryer at the laundromat!

So I'm driving us back home in the van, and the stupid DVD we were watching started messing up. I reached around to the back seat for another movie and my phone slipped off my lap. I was in the middle of a turn at the time, which required me to yield onto the next road. I couldn't look around to my left for traffic because I was still trying to fetch my phone, so I put on the breaks. I turned to the left to see nobody, and that's when we got rear-ended!

I pulled off to the shoulder and the other driver pulled over behind us. He ran right up to the van to make sure that everyone was okay. I could barely suppress my smile, but inside I was busting with excitement! I got out to exchange info and we looked at each others damages. Luckily we took the van that day, which has a really high rear bumper. There was only a little bit of damage to my bumper. The poor bastard who hit us was in a brand new Mazda 3, and his front end was smashed all to hell!

That's the least of his worries, though. I've been recommended to a very good injury lawyer. That ho Shirl at my office used him in a similar accident, and made off with $35,000. And even though this is only a low speed crash, and my unborn baby is fine, the lawyer is going to refer us to a special doctor. This guy is a master at diagnosing accident-related pain conditions which are very difficult to disprove. All I have to do is play along, and before you know it, I'll be gettin' paid!

25 Wacky Halloween Tricks!

2008-10-24T10:36:00.003-04:00

The other day I made a point to warn all of you about the dangers of handing out non-candy items as treats on Halloween. But what kinds of tricks would be appropriate as retaliation for such heinous behaviour? Obviously, you'll want to tailor your tricks to the individual victim, with a focus on traumatizing them for life. That's the only way they'll ever learn!

Here are a few fun ideas to get you started:

1.Catch a foodborne illness, use their jack-o-lantern as a toilet
2.Throw that crappy pumpkin through their bay window
3.Fire a wad of 50 bottle rockets into their shed or garage
4.Replace their brake fluid with Crystal Light
5.Trap their pet in a van and give it an obvious sex change
6.Paint their doorway with curdled pig's blood
7.Drop buckets of baking soda and vinegar down the chimney
8.Leave a flaming bag of entrails on the doorstep, ring bell
9.Call their phone, when they answer whisper, "I'm in the house!"
10.Sacrifice an inflatable love goat on their porch
11.Knock up their daughter, then refuse to pay child support
12.Burn a massive scarecrow on their front lawn
13.Rig up a non-fatal candy corn cluster bomb
14.Use a hot glue gun to seal all their windows and doors shut
15.Break into the basement and cause an odorless gas leak
16.Startle them by dressing up as their dead grandma
17.Force them to swallow the refuse from your ear candling
18.Put a razor blade in an apple and accuse them to the police
19.Break in and throw a black cat on them while they're taking a dump
20.Mummify them in a giant ball of 3-ply toilet paper
21.Drug a rabid raccoon and leave it in their glove compartment
22.Sneak a few senior citizens inside the house to stink up the place
23.Stuff their air conditioner full of carrot juice & bacon bits
24.Mess up their vinyl siding by covering it in bloody butt prints
25.Shoot a dart laced with Ben Gay right into their necks

Disclaimer:
This list is for entertainment purposes only.
Do not drug a rabid raccoon without your doctor's permission.

25 Unacceptable Halloween Treats!

2008-10-22T11:00:00.004-04:00

As a parent, I take a large cut of my kids' Halloween candy. I have absolutely no use for all this non-candy bullcrap that some folks in my neighborhood have chosen to give out in lieu of actual treats. For all of our sakes I've prepared a list of the 25 worst items that have been offered to my kids on Halloween:

1.School supplies
2.Fat free snacks, like Goldfish crackers or pretzels
3.Homemade popcorn balls with bits of cat hair stuck on the side
4.Homemade caramel apples (which are actually kind of fun to throw)
5.Meat on a stick with little bones in it
6.Travel toothbrush and mini-toothpaste
7.Religious propaganda
8.Cheap ass 8-packs of generic Chinese crayons
9.Little paper bags full of dirty nickels & unwrapped gum
10.Individual used women's shoes that are like 30 yrs old
11.Midget granola bars with no chocolate or candy in them
12.Loose pastel Peanut M&Ms from four Easters ago
13.Cans of warm non-alcoholic beer
14.A couple of melted Sucrets from a leather jacket pocket
15.Miniature Hickory Farms meat and cheese logs
16.Worn out tennis balls that the dog has slobbered all over
17.Bouillon cubes
18.A runny slice of crappy pecan pie that you have to sit there and eat
19.Tiny shampoo samples from some hotel they stayed at
20.A fun-sized Milky Way with a big rusty needle sticking through it
21.Giant cans of soggy string beans from Costco
22.Crumbs from the bottom of a box of Lucky Charms
23.Handfuls of Sweet & Low packets from an elderly lady's purse
24.Rice cakes with globs of flavorless yogurt on them
25.Circus peanuts. Nobody wants to gnaw on that orange wad!

To avoid any doubt, go ahead and print this out and take it with you to the store. This is what they call "fair warning". If any of you scumbags try to drop some crap like this into my kids' trick or treat bags again, I promise you that I will personally assist them in carrying out a trick that ends with you being rushed to the hospital!

Learn some strip club etiquette!

2008-10-20T07:07:00.004-04:00

Before I met my ex-husband, and before my first kid was born, I used to do a bit of stripping at one of Richmond's fine Southside gentlemen's clubs. So I think I'm more than qualified to teach you no account fools some of the finer points of properly conducting yourselves in a strip club environment.

The most important thing is tipping. Just because you paid a cover charge doesn't mean that you're "covered"! You guys need to tip each dancer for each dance! That's why they're coming around to every table after every performance. The standard tip is $0.50 per dance (a roll of pennies will do). An extra 15% should be added if the routine included ass clapping.

As for the women, the rule is the same, unless you're there with your man. In that circumstance you do not need to tip. We get so much satisfaction from being sexier to your man than you are that the bitchy scowls from you and your stupid best friend you brought along are payment enough! Just make sure you watch your mouth. It would be a shame if somebody cut that pretty face of yours!

Another thing you need to know is that we always come to work, even when we're sick. I've stripped while fighting a flu, or even when suffering from really bad gas! During my very first week on the job I accidentally farted right in a guy's face during a private dance! I figured it would be okay because I was wearing a spandex Catwoman suit, and cats are notorious for that. He didn't agree, so I told the bouncers that he groped me, and they threw him skull-first onto the pavement outside.

There's one question that I'm gonna answer even before you ask it: Yes, strippers are always available for sex in exchange for money! That's really how they make ends meet! And I can tell you right now that if you don't get to insert a finger during a private dance, you got ripped off! Hell, one time I gave an ex-convict a dry handjob in exchange for a half pack of cigarettes. It ain't no thang!

Some customers will make proposals of this sort when the girls are coming around for their tips. That's okay, but not ideal. The best way is to approach them in the parking lot when they're getting off their shift. Show her that you're carrying a large black plastic trash bag, so she'll see that there's somewhere to keep her purse and soiled dance costumes while she's workin' you over!

Of course that's not enough for some guys. Some of y'all want to learn how to date one of those sexy strippers you see on stage. That requires cocaine. Get yourself a dealer, and enough cash to keep a steady supply. Before you know it, you'll be one of those guys in his late forties who's moving in with a stripper in her late twenties who wears low rise jeans with stretched out thongs that ride halfway up her back.

Help my homeless homies!

2008-10-15T09:42:00.009-04:00

Y'all forget sometimes how good y'all've got it. You're waking up each morning on your comfy beds, taking your hot lathery showers, driving your overprotected, brat-faced kids to school in your fancy cars. Well I don't forget. I try to do a little something each day to make things easier for those amongst us who are most vulnerable. Today is the day that we're going to get together, and talk about the issue of homelessness, rather than just turning a blind eye as we so often do.

Think about this. When you're sitting at a stoplight, what do you do? Find a different CD to listen to, pick your nose, and maybe gawk at the person in the car next to you? When what you could be doing is helping that poor laid off veteran who's standing on the corner with a sign, asking for help. Do you think his Sprint GPS cell phone bill is going to pay itself? Do you think that 2-year old Honda Pilot he has parked around the corner is going to pay itself off? Y'all gotta think!

Damn near every time I go to Carytown there's some crusty dude sitting at the end of the I-195 exit with a crudely fashioned sign. So when I get up to the light I reach my hand into that sticky plastic pocked inside my car door and dig out as many pennies, car wash and Chuck E. Cheese tokens as I can possibly find. Then I toss them on the ground near his feet and take off through the yellow light. Screw the horn honking haters behind me who are waiting through two light cycles just to make it off the ramp. This is more important!

Commuters can do a lot of good, because we see the same people every morning. Familiar strangers, who we connect with on some human level. That's why it's nice to work up a little care package once in a while for those who appear to be in need. Include practical items, like last night's leftovers from Chili's, that blanket your dog used to sleep on before he died, and a mini-crowbar that can be used for self defence, or for finding a warm place to sleep. I also like to include sample-sized packets that I get in the mail, like tooth whitening strips and personal lubricant.

They say that kids make up a large portion of the homeless population. I never see them around our town, but statistics say that they're there. So I keep plastic bags full of my kids' old clothes in the trunk to give to homeless people that I see along my travels. I can only assume that they take those items back to wherever their children are. Of course I only give away torn or visibly soiled items, because I can sell the decent ones for a few bucks at a children's consignment shop.

Finally, we come down to the most pitiful of all, homeless people's dogs. I'm sure that having them along helps with the frequency of cash donations, so who can blame these needy folks for stealing cute dogs out of peoples' yards? Certainly not me! But we also have to face the fact that the money you give these panhandlers for "dog food" is going to be used for booze or heroin. Then they're going to feed the dog half-eaten Taquitos out of the 7-11 dumpster. So instead of cash donations, you could give them things that only a dog would want, like a bag of chicken bones, or an opened package of out-of-date chocolates.

Public displays of affection!

2008-10-13T14:45:00.004-04:00

Phil took me out to a real fancy seafood place for dinner last night. It was a total surprise! I was just out in the utility shed in my housedress huffing some jenkem when I heard him calling me from inside the townhouse. I came in and he had flowers and was all dressed up in his fancy church clothes. Just the sight of him had me blushing like a dumpy virgin!

I got myself gussied up with my one nice maternity dress, and a few sprays of Paris Hilton's "Can Can" perfume. He drove us downtown, and I tell ya, he was sweet talking me the whole way! I really felt like a princess! Then he pulled out a blunt that he had rolled with some of those banana flavored cigar papers that I like so much! We got high as shit! He even found us a nice parking spot right in front of the restaurant!

We shared a double order of raw oysters as an appetizer. By the time the entrees arrived I was hornier than a sick old cat in heat! That's how it is sometimes when you're pregnant, stoned, and full of raw shellfish. I started making eyes at Phil, dipping my fingers in my bowl of fish chowder and teasing him with them. He responded with some heavy petting under my dress. Then I got a bit bolder and hopped up on his lap!

It was about that time that the restaurant manager showed up and asked us nicely to get our asses out of there. This guy clearly meant business. He had an uneasy look on his face, like he was going to vomit, or start throwing punches. We left quietly, and rather embarrassed. I honestly don't understand why it's okay to breastfeed a baby in public, but not a drunken bearded man. I can't help it if I'm blessed with early lactating! It's just how I was made!