Do You Realize?

Let's Try This Again...

I just couldn't stay away.  It's been more than a year since I last posted, the night before our oldest, beloved dog died of a massive cancerous lung tumor.  Some things have changed, some are the same.  What's happened since then?

Poogan died quite traumatically in my arms a few hours after my last post at the veterinarian's office.  

My vehicular bad luck continued for another couple of months.  I was rear-ended a third time, and then I was front-ended by another. Yes, you read that right. I was waiting to exit a CVS parking lot behind another car. As she pulled out into the street, I pulled forward. When she was almost completely pulled out, she braked, put the car in reverse and backed into the front of my car. What kind of moron does this? The kind whose moron boyfriend drops his keys out the window into the street while the car is moving, apparently. Only, instead of continuing forward motion & pulling into the next parking lot ten feet away, she decided to put the car in reverse & back her car back into the parking lot, regardless of the bright red vehicular obstacle in her way.

We had another full battery of neuropsychological testing for Youngest, who has gotten an "upgrade" on his diagnosis.  The new flavor of mental illness is "schizoaffective disorder."  In a nutshell, he has the distinction of symptoms of both schizophrenia and some sort of affective, or mood, disorder (in his case, bipolar disorder), and that he can experience the symptoms of both at the same time or independently of one another at any given time. I know, upgrades are usually exciting to win, but for some reason I can't quite muster up any fervor for this one. Maybe it's the raging paranoia or the complete and utter lack of ability to connect with reality, but that's just a guess.

I never did post about our experience with Youngest and the residential treatment center, but that's okay, because he may be going back. We had a slightly emergent situation arise at school yesterday, and he's spending two days at home, and we have a slightly emergent Saturday double scoop of psychiatry bright and early tomorrow morning.

After more than a year of cheating on Louis trying another purse, we replaced my Louis Vuitton Batignolles Horizontal bag.  I even tried a different style of LV bag, but I carried it for two days and took it back for the perfect bag for me, the same exact one some skank stole that was stolen.

I made Jello shots for New Year's Eve again... all different flavors this year, none of which I really remember.  I also didn't take photos because my camera was doing crazy stupid things (which were later alleviated by purchasing all-new data cards).

We still love our water-saving toilets and energy/water efficient front-loading LG Tromm washer & dryer. And I still owe a review of the washer & dryer.  And we have a new Energy Star GE Profile refrigerator to love.

We got a new really damned annoying precious puppy.  His name is Keller, as he is very visually impaired.  His name was thisclosetobeing Merkin, as he is a black kinky-haired poodle. I will gripe blog about him a lot, I'm sure.

I finally went back to college!  I'm a Cougar! (This status has nothing to do with my age or my age preference in men.)  I've been wanting to do this for quite some time now, and I'm on my third semester of part-time classes.  

I'm still a master procrastinator, and I'll still probably only post sporadically, especially when life gets crazy. Which it does quite often here.

Second Letter to the Person Who Stole My Purse

Dear Degenerate Asshole Madam:

Thank you so much for arranging for the return of my purse  cash  keys and wallet with the broken zipper. It was also kind of you to remember how much I loved the scavenger hunt my husband put together when he gave me my purse and for you to arrange something similar by shoving the keys and wallet underneath a mattress in a skanky rattrap motel. It was really a fucking cowardly act thoughtful touch. The man in the motel office was so nice when he passed them to me underneath the bulletproof glass barrier!

What kind of fragrance do you wear? I'm just wondering, because the wallet smells of Eau de Fish Fry. A vast improvement over the simple scent of leather! And thank you for rubbing off all the magical Florentine fairy dust that made that wallet so special, replacing it with your skanky hand grease special essence.

I'm so excited about next week, because I just know you're planning another hide & seek game for my purse, since you forgot to leave it under the mattress with the wallet & keys. I can't wait to see where you put it! A crack house, perhaps, or maybe in your john's boyfriend's car?

Fuck Thank you very much,
Lori V.

Letter to the Person Who Stole My Purse Yesterday

Dear Degenerate Asshole Madam:

Yesterday you hit the jackpot. You scored yourself a Louis Vuitton Batignolles bag! Congratulations! Oh, you don't know what that is? Its the fine-ass purse you stole off the back of some distracted, unsuspecting woman's chair yesterday. That woman would be me, and I'm fucking enraged slightly miffed.

Yes, I understand that you probably needed the cash in my wallet for your next meth fix diapers. I get that; really, I do. But couldn't your skanky ass you have just taken the cash and left the wallet? I've had it for six years; it's one of the few things I bought for myself at the market in Florence. The zipper doesn't even reliably work anymore, but it's filled with memories.

Yes, I know that you thought my credit cards would come in handy. But I had those cancelled before you made it to the corner store for your Mickey's Malt Liqor and cigarettes, bitch school supplies. And the DMV knows my driver's license number was stolen, so the driver's license won't do you a damn bit of good, even if by some miracle you looked even slightly like me or thought of stealing my identity. (But I know you weren't planning that, silly.) You can use my Kroger Shopping Rewards card if you'd like, though. I didn't cancel it.

Yes, I realize that you think my purse looks fantastic with your crack whore chic wardrobe. However, that purse will never hold memories for you. You'll never be able to say your husband picked it out all on his own one Christmas, then sent you on a scavenger hunt to find it, filled with Butterfingers, at the end. But you'll have memories, too, girl. Like, remember that one time I saw that woman minding her own business at Subway and she forgot her purse and so I stole that mofo? Those were the days!

Oh, yes, I'm certain that my son's Nintendo DS will make one of your young 'uns very happy. But what will the other five think of you playing favorites? Oh, I know; just tell them they can have something out of the next purse you steal. That will fix everything.

Thank you for making my life a nightmare for a few days, having to have my car towed and re-chipped because you now have my damn car keys, having to have my safety deposit box drilled out because you now have my damn bank key, and having to change the locks on my house because you now have my address and my fucking house key, too!

Fuck off and die,
Lori

P.S. I really and sincerely hope that karma is real and that you will be reincarnated as a pubic louse living on a meth addict.

A Tuesday Ten--Google Edition

I'm always amazed at some of the things people Google, which lead them to my blog. Here's a list of ten of the strangest/funniest/dumbest. (Warning: I'm feeling a little salty today. Appropriately sailor-ish language ensues.)

1.  "Chiggers"--- Damn it, people. If some science geeks don't get out there and write some interesting shit about chiggers, I'm going to go crazy! (On the other hand, it would probably steal half my damn traffic.)

2.  "Bedbugs"; "dead bedbugs"; "baby bedbugs"; "evil bedbugs"--- The Internet must have a shockingly inadequate amount of information about bedbugs, because if a Google search for the little fuckers leads these people to my piddly blog, the online world is doomed to an unfortunately misinformed existence!

3.  "Concert groping" --- I'm not sure whether these people are looking for a Concert Gropers Anonymous meeting or a survivor's group or what. I can't help you with either. Get over it. When you go to a concert, you are often in embarrassingly close proximity to others. You may get touched, even on the boob. It's not necessarily purposeful. Unless, of course, you're a hot bitch, then maybe it was.

4.  "Anesthesia politics cunt" --- I can't even imagine a situation in which those three words could be fit together. Whatever it was, I don't think they found a solution here.

5.  "can Concerta make a child start cursing" --- No, but inadequate parenting can. Self-flagellation is a must. Cursing is the worst thing a child will ever cook up in his/her devious little damn brain. (/sarcasm)

6.  "take kids to Edgefest" --- One word. Yes. But they will get groped. (See #3.)

7.  "beautiful pictures of Texas's dessert [sic]" --- My desserts don't hang around on my damn plate long enough to take a beautiful picture, people.

8.  "the cost of Six Flags" --- Your soul, fuckers. Sign on the "X."

9.  "how to get rid of pleas [sic] and chiggers from your house" --- I've got nothing of importance to offer here. However, my kids can give you quite detailed instructions on removing "please and thank you" from your home.

10.  "what to do when husband calls you a cunt" --- I'm not sure exactly why this person felt the need to seek advice from Google on this, but if you haven't found the advice you're looking for, here's a hint: A packed bag and a weekend at a luxurious spa on your turd husband's dime comes to mind, as does dumping all of his shit on the lawn, turning on the sprinklers, and changing the locks. Oh, and maybe a marriage counselor, if none of the other shit works.

A Super Secret Undercover Mission

One big reason that Youngest triggers horrific reactions in me is that he is a carbon copy of his biological father. And I divorced his biological father for a reason. Because he wasn't a likable person, and I didn't like him. At all. Now, it's like I have to live with him again, with no divorce in sight.

"So, are you going to look for a job today?" a very pregnant me asks a very unemployed husband. (Remember him?) Thirteen years ago.

"Not yet. I have something I have to do today. And I'm going to take Middle (who was really Youngest at that point in time) with me. We'll go to the park or something. We'll hang out." (We'll be a chick magnet.)

"No job?"

"Tomorrow." (Riiiiight. If hell freezes over.)

Hours pass. Unemployed husband comes home with toddler and three new comics in hand. (How the fuck did these get in my hand when I have no fucking money? Huh.) Elated. Giddy. Euphoric.

"Middle was a hero today, Mommy." (Ummmm...)

"Oh, really? How's that?" (Ask you no questions, tell me no lies. I should know better.)

"He saved a police investigation." (Huh?)

Me: "Tell me about it."

"Well, I've got this friend at the department who I occasionally do favors for when he needs somebody. Like an informant." (Oooh, this is gonna be good.)

"So, today, he asked me to come and make a pickup of an audio tape for a big investigation they're doing right now. I can't say exactly who it is, but when it breaks it's gonna be big. Very important political figure. His family owns juice companies." (Really good.)

"I'm sitting on the bench waiting for the drop-off, and when it happens, the tape falls to the ground. Middle ran over & picked it up & brought it to me. Didn't you buddy?" (You're asking a fifteen-month-old.)

Me: "Did you get paid for this?" (Wait for iiiit....)

"No. But I helped the police out, baby! If you can't handle my working with them, you need to get over it now. Because I do important stuff for them sometimes. They just can't pay me for it." (Oh, well, of course not.)

(sarcasm) Thirteen years later, I'm still trying to figure out what political scandal Bob Dole was supposedly being investigated for in Floyd County, Georgia. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he was out spending money we didn't have on comic books. Ya think? (/sarcasm)  I'm telling you, I couldn't make this shit up.

A Super Tuesday Ten

In honor of Super Tuesday, I thought I'd whip up ten of my favorite quotes from our lovely host of candidates.

1. Mike Huckabee:  "I have opponents in this race who do not want to change the Constitution, but I believe it is a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living God, and that's what we need to do, is to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards, rather than change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view of how we treat each other and how we treat the family." (So, Mikey... would stoning adulterers and killing witches be inserted before or after the Freedom of Religion amendment?)

2. Mitt Romney: "I want our kids to know how to Google and Yahoo and everything else, so that when they do a report on George Washington, they don't have to go to the encyclopedia, but they can go to the Wikipedia and they can learn what's happening on an online basis as kids around the world are doing." (Um, Mitt... the Wikipedia is not really known for being a bastion of thoroughness. Maybe you checked out the Wikipedia definition for the Wikipedia and saw how cool it was!)

3. Hillary Clinton: "It did take a Clinton to clean up after the first Bush, and I think it might take a second one to clean up after the second Bush." (Snort! That's all... just... Snort!)

4. Barack Obama: "I respect that John McCain, in the first two rounds of Bush tax cuts, said it is irresponsible that we have never before cut taxes at the same time as we're going into war. And somewhere along the line, the "Straight Talk Express" lost some wheels and now he is in favor of extending Bush tax cuts that went to some of the wealthiest Americans who don't need them and were not even asking for them." (Senator thinks John McCain could use the political equivalent of AAA.)

5. John McCain: “Only the most deluded of us could doubt the necessity of this war.” (Was he sniffing white-out fluid before he said this, or having an afternoon tryst with GW?)

6. Mike Huckabee: "And the ultimate thing is, I may not be the expert that some people are on foreign policy, but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night." (Ummmmm, WTF does that have to do with anything, asshat?)

7. Mitt Romney: "My sons are all adults and they've made decisions about their careers and they've chosen not to serve in the military and active duty and I respect their decision in that regard. One of the ways my sons are showing support for our nation is helping me get elected because they think I'd be a great president." (But he still wants our troops to stay... hey, Mitt, the soldiers are committing suicide too quickly... can you spare a couple of your sons for Second-String?)

8. Hillary Clinton: "I'm sick and tired of people who say that if you debate and disagree with this administration, somehow you're not patriotic. We need to stand up and say we're Americans, and we have the right to debate and disagree with any administration." (I'll bet the same twatwaffles who threatened the Dixie Chick's lives for being unpatriotic (Freedom of Speech, hello?) could spew verbatim our right to bear arms.)

9. Barack Obama: "What Washington needs is adult supervision." (No kidding, Barack, I'm glad you're offering!)

10. John McCain: "The United States military could stay in Iraq for maybe a hundred years and that would be fine with me." (That's nice, Senator. We've decided to start drafting men over 50.)

**Favorite Presidential Quote not made by a Presidential candidate, made by the character Grace on "Will & Grace":  "I had another sex dream last night. This time, I was in the shower with Barack Obama. And... O-bama! He was ba-rockin' my world!"

Sunday Scribblings--Foul

People are occasionally taken aback by my foul mouth. I fully believe that curse words, in and of themselves, serve a useful purpose and that people who are offended by them are pussies, should get the hell over it already, and shut the fuck up. I tend to also harbor the theory that people who are offended by curse words must believe they themselves are defined by those words.

Certainly, there are words in the English language that serve no purpose other than to insult or pain other people. These are the words about which people should be worrying: Nigger, kike, spic, wetback, et al. True, these are also just words, but they were imagined for no useful purpose other than to promote a hateful agenda (which is why I don't include the words fag or faggot, which were actual words which were adopted and bastardized for nefarious purposes). Curse words, on the other hand, have purposes. For brevity, I'll cover just a few targeted by the FCC.

Take, for example, the word shit. It is a synonym for more mundane words like stuff or things (i.e. "Get your shit together and get out!"). It is also a synonym for excrement, and, frankly, the words poop, doody, and poo poo and are more offensive to my intelligence than shit. The only reason for anyone to be offended by this word is if they are being called "shit" unfairly (you can't really be offended if it's warranted, though).

What about fuck? It, too, is simply a synonym for other, more quotidian words. Even those who claim to be offended by the word fuck, if being honest, have to marvel at the sheer versatility of this word. No other word in the English vernacular can be used as so many different parts of speech. We hold great admiration for people who show as much versatility; why shouldn't we afford the same esteem to the word fuck?

Ah, and then there's the grande dame of all dirty words, the one that offends most of all: cunt. Although I can't say I often (if ever) run across the need for this word (remember, I said curse words are utilitarian), it's still just a word, people. Get over it. Say it. Bunt, hunt, runt, stunt, cunt. It's not a particularly elegant-sounding word; it's somewhat clunky and abrupt, but therein lies its usefulness. By the time you are frustrated enough to need the word cunt, using its more workaday relative bitch or its more British-sounding (and therefore more elegant-sounding) cousin twat just won't suffice. One who is opposed to the word cunt may try to argue that it, like the aforementioned general hate words, is designed to demean and malign a person, but that would be oversimplifying reality. A person who has done something so outrageous and hideous as to qualify as a cunt is deserving of such; no one deserves to be called a nigger (which, if you'll notice, is not a synonym for any another word, and therefore will never prove useful for anything other than hate promotion). 

Many who are offended by curse words posit that, because there are other, less abrasive words which mean the same thing, we should be able to use those words instead. I'm sorry, folks, but if I stub my ingrown toenail and can see nothing at the moment but pretty stars and colorful fireworks, golly, poop, or doody just isn't going to cut it. And, although I haven't often had to reach for this word, if I happen to see Ann Coulter on the street (or even on television), there's really no other word that can encompass her vileness quite as thoroughly as cunt.

Sunday Scribblings--The Unspoken Competition

There exists in today's culture a competition so fierce, with competitors so driven, and so exclusive, in which men cannot even hope to participate and women have been accused of cheating for the title. It's a competition which is never advertised, and no one is to ever call it such. Its ostensible purpose is to help each other, to offer a sense of camaraderie and fellowship. Don't be fooled. It's a competition. It's the Childbirthing Championships.

When I got pregnant at seventeen, I didn't tell anyone for five months. Part of it might have been trying to avoid women of all walks of life telling me I was going to hell and that I should give that baby to a family who could raise it right, but most of it was self-preservation. I had seen women all but eat each other for the title of Most Death-Defying Delivery, and when they spy a pregnant belly, they seem drawn to it by some unnamed force, to tell their horrific, harrowing tales of painful parturition. The longer I could avoid that the better. Invariably, though, they found me. Each woman of Prima Gravida status or higher had a story to tell me, but not to scare me or to outdo some other woman of equally noble character; no, they were there to help me, to let me know what to expect.

I'm calling Bullshit. I'm now a member of the Multi Gravida Club, and I now have a story to tell, too. I KNOW that it's all about the competition. And everyone has a different strategy. Who went the longest without an epidural? (For the record, the epidural is my friend.) Who labored longer at home before going to the hospital? Who drove themselves to the hospital? Who was in such pain they passed in & out of consciousness, having Frida Kahlo art-inspired visions? Who endured pain and panic and delivered their baby at home on a holy rug with no pain relief but a midwife's comforting whispers?

I'll own up. I'm in. My story is easily as worthy of Childbirth Champion status as someone else's. My childbirth story. Let me tell you it.*

*I'll tell you later. Just know that it involves 38 hours of action, adventure, suspense, pain, blood, and gore. I'm in it to win it, peeps.

Karl Rove---Asshat Extraordinaire

I'm just now reading up on Karl Rove's latest act of American political history revision. His claim?

The evil, dirty Democrats pushed President Bush into the war. He didn't want it.

W... T... F...?!?! Is this man fucking furreals?

My favorite summary of the charge (from the Crooks & Liars website):

Yes, the truth finally comes out — the tyrannical, warmongering Tom Daschle was out on the news shows in 2002, beating the drums of war and eventually the Bush administration, with his boot to their throat, relented and let the Democrats have their war.

A Tuesday Ten--Complaint Department Edition

I'm kind of cranky this week. And to prove it, I present you ten things that are on my damn nerves this week (some big, some trivial... I'm balanced that way!):

1. The thing that is bugging me the worst right now is America's glib treatment of mental illness in general. If someone has one little mood fluctuation, people make offhand and ignorant remarks about them being "bipolar." Britney Spears has become a pariah; she is obviously suffering, possibly (I daresay probably) in a depression at the very least, yet all we want is to talk about how "crazy" she is. This story has me all sorts of mad. First, why was this woman, clearly crying out for help (and quite articulately, at that), left alone in a holding cell? If police had been following departmental procedure, she would still be alive today. And second, why aren't more people talking about it, questioning it?

2. Celadon Trucking, who apparently don't realize that common sense marketing strategy would have led them in a different direction. Celadon is GREEN, you numbnuts!

3. The media's treatment of Al Gore, from cherry-picking quotes until they barely resemble the original (he did NOT say he INVENTED the Internet, jackasses) and dissecting everything from his sighing habits to his clothing during the Presidential campaign, now acting like he's always been their darling. No hard feelings, right, Al?

4. Stupid drivers. This will show up on every single pet peeve list of mine until the day I surrender my license because I'm too old or blind to safely operate a vehicle.

5. Hypocrisy. "God's Warrior" Marguerite Perrin from Trading Spouses renounced her family's final $50,000 in 2005, saying (okay, screeching) it was "tainted" and "dark-sided." When she found out that $20,000 had been earmarked for her gastric bypass surgery, though, she reconsidered and took the money. She even went back on Trading Spouses for a second torturous episode. She also said she didn't want money or fame, she just wanted Her God and Her Family. But somehow, she's found a way to capitalize on America's impression of her with a comedy music CD and interviews on numerous TV shows.

6. Drizzly days. Theoretically, rainy days should be like free showers for your car, in my opinion. Drizzly days make dirty roads into muddy roads, and your car always ends up dirtier than it was before the rain. Not cool.

7. Dumbasses who insist on pronouncing the number one hundred as “a hunnerd” or, even better, “a hunnert.” I have heard at least two different radio advertisements this week in which the spokesman slaughtered this. WTF?

8. Childhood Bipolar Disorder. No one should have to live with this disease, and no one should have to live with a child who has this disease. It is devastating, frustrating, confusing, time consuming, and it absolutely eclipses every other person, problem, and plan inside a family.

9. Doggy agression. Our oldest dog, Poogan, is beautiful. But if she were human, she would be the old bitchy aunt that no one wants to visit because all the kids are afraid of her. And she’s got so many neuroses and fears. She's afraid of a whole host of household items & actions: vacuum cleaner, ceiling fans, broom & mop, vacuum cleaner, shadows, candles, shiny reflections, vacuum cleaner, the doorbell, strangers... the list goes on forever... did I mention we've had to replace 5 vacuum cleaner hoses from where she bites holes in them? In her old age, she's also starting to growl and snap at any other living thing that crosses her path, barking shrilly at anything that startles or upsets her. Gah, it gets old.

10. Dropped signals. Whether it's my cell phone or my wireless internet connection, my electronics have been dropping me like a baby giraffe lately.

See? I told you I was cranky!