IÂ’m shocked at the results of this episode.

43% of you got the right answer. The Haircut, New YearÂ’s Eve & John Madden is true.

Look at the clues:

ItÂ’s completely disjointed. When I make stuff up it generally has a theme. It starts with the bad haircut. There was a lot of detail about the cosmo license. Too much detail to shrug off.

The rest of it? Well, there was a good bit left out for the sake of brevity that might have made it easier. My friend was tipping the drink waiter even more than I was, so the guy was really scrambling to do anything he could for us. He was literally knocking people around when he was running towards our table a few times.

Also, we were hammered. And when I know I’m in for the long haul I plant a lot of little seeds that I hope to see mature before I make my drunken exit. I might also mention that “my friend” used to write at the blog Four Honkies and is a formidable competitor when inciting outrageous behavior in public. Once the ball’s been hit over the net, I can’t help myself. I have to return it.

The John Madden thing? I have a pretty good pic of the guy.

Oorgo, IÂ’m disappointed. You should have known better.

One point each:
Phin
Tiffani
Dafyd

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:39 AM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
Post contains 241 words, total size 2 kb.

Burger has a piggy. He cherishes Piggy (Okay, not the most creative name. Give him a break, he wasn't even a year old when he named it.) and it alternately holds roles as little sister or baby. He's had it since he was a wee tot. Once it was the cutest, softest stuffed animal in the world. He loves it fiercely though and the pig has suffered over the years. Like the Velveteen Rabbit its coat is worn smooth. It has had many surgeries, once it was even brought to the School of Veterinary Science at UGA for repairs. Its coat became too thin for sutures to hold so it has many skin grafts (duct tape) as well. It is, in a word, "used".

The scene: We are driving in the van on the way to the farmer's market. Burger brought Piggy along for the ride.

Burger: I married Piggy yesterday.

Lovely Wife: You married Piggy?

Burger: Yup. Yesterday.

Me: Eww. Isn't that like ... incest?

Burger: Nope. She was the princess. I was the king.

I guess it's okay then. Royalty does as royalty does and they've been marrying cousins or worse for generations. The Pharoahs married their sisters after all and, with all of those duct tape repairs, Piggy does somewhat resemble a mummy.

Posted by: Jim at 06:02 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I rarely comment on the news because too many people do it better than me, but these really got under my skin.

U.N. Temporarily Halts Caviar Exports

GENEVA - A U.N. panel ordered a temporary halt to caviar exports by the world's major producers Tuesday, buying time for experts to find ways to reverse dwindling populations of threatened sturgeon — whose eggs provide the culinary delicacy.

This the U.N. acts on?

Iran is now refining their own yellowcake, in North Korea thereÂ’s a nutcase with at least three mid-range nukes and a haircut worse than mine, and in Africa genocide has become the new Oktoberfest. And these assholes are fucking around with beluga? What a goddamned embarrassment.

On the lighter side:

Angry passengers sue after plane delay

BERLIN (Reuters) - Six German airline passengers who said they were being held against their will on an aircraft stuck on the runway for hours during a snowstorm have filed "false imprisonment" charges, German police said Saturday.

Passengers boarded the plane at Berlin's Tegel airport at 7 a.m. Thursday, but snow and ice delayed their takeoff. At 11:30 a.m. a man named Ingo Q. called a police emergency hotline on his cell phone and said he felt as if he was being "held hostage," the tabloid Bild reported Saturday.

These people sat on the runway for seven fucking hours. I’ve been in situations similar to this and let me tell you—you are being held hostage. It’s not like flights to London are scarce. Six people sued for false imprisonment and I hope to hell they win.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:03 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 273 words, total size 2 kb.

When's the last time you heard a blond joke? More importantly, when's the last time you heard a hillarious blond joke?

Posted by: Jim at 04:48 PM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
Post contains 31 words, total size 1 kb.

Points are awarded for the weird habits submitted to this post.

Winner (5 points): Jennifer
Sucking on giant cow udders.
Don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

First runner up (4 points, +1 for existing habit): diamond dave
Taking the pants off completely when doing the No. 2.
As some famous person once said "Would they be of silk still should these fetters chafe and bind". Last thing I need while sitting on the can is binding, I tell you what.

Second runner up (3 points): phin
Dressing up in Red Panties and parading around the office.
What's the normal color - blue?

Third runner up (2 points, +1 for existing habit): Victor
You have sex with your wife on a regular basis.
It's only "weird" if the barn fowl protests.

Honorable mention (1 point): Tiffani
Walking around with your shirt off.
I'm seldom without a shirt. Quite often I'm without pants but after the third time the ASPCA tried to "bag" me I made it a habit to always wear a shirt. more...

Posted by: Jim at 01:31 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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I wanted to write a post about how much I hate sports bars but I just canÂ’t do it justice. The passionÂ’s not strong enough, and I think itÂ’s because these things are so damned innocuous that people no longer realize theyÂ’re in a sports bar.

As far as I’m concerned they’re cookie-cutter, stereotype shitholes with lousy menus and too many televisions. For some reason most of them have green décor—why I don’t know. Do sports fans only eat chicken wings? Do sports fans have to completely lower their standards of cuisine?

Most sports bars are basically open from lunch to sometime after midnight. There are not enough sports on during that time to fill the slots. ThatÂ’s why half the time their showing goddamned curling.

Hell, I donÂ’t know, maybe itÂ’s just me. I like the NFL. Sixteen games and youÂ’re done with it. But Jesus Christ flipping flapjacks, some people watch the NBA, NCAA basketball, baseball (the all-time most boring spectator sport the world has ever known), hockey, golf, tennis and who knows what else.

Whose life is that empty that they need to completely fill it up with the accomplishments, drama and competition of other people? Because IÂ’m here to tell you, keeping up with all that shit is a full time job. And thatÂ’s not even counting the shit they call sports thatÂ’s not really sports. The stuff that takes no athletic ability like poker and darts. Sports? You must be shittinÂ’ me.

My God, I hate sports bars.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 01:16 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 261 words, total size 2 kb.

The Scene: Lovely Wife is typing away at her computer. Bacon comes up to her with a marker and a blank piece of paper.

Bacon: Momma, how do you spell "Everybody stay out of my room especially Burger"?

Lovely Wife: [stifles laugh] Ummm...it's "E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y S-T-A-Y O-U-T O-F M-Y R-O-O-M E-S-P-E-C-I-A-L-L-Y B-U-R-G-E-R".

Bacon: [wearing a crestfallen expression] Oh. That's a lot.

Lovely Wife: Yes, it is.

Bacon turns and walks out of the room, dispirited at the effort required to make his sign. Late the same evening Lovely Wife noticed a sign, carefully lettered and taped to Bacon's door. The resourceful lad had rethunk his requirements and reduced scope on his sign project. The completed work read:

NO BURGER!

Posted by: Jim at 12:50 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Victor here, announcing that several stealth points went unclaimed last year. Someone should tell you about them and it may as well be me because I offered them to y'all.

To be honest, the first point may or may not have qualified for stealth points. I sent Jim a note and he never replied, but I'll mention it here as a just-in-case. It was just last month, when my incredibly awesome caption won Jim's caption contest. In case you've forgotten, it was Fluffy the Hutt was not at *all* pleased when Han Solo had to dump the load of Triskelian Mice he was smuggling.

I'll get the obvious out of the way first: It was not the Star Wars references. Jim has stated that painfully obvious references, such as Monty Python, are not eligible for Snooze Points, and I suspect references to characters from Star Wars would qualify as painfully obvious. However, read it carefully...does anyone not remember Star Trek? Particularly hot alien babes? Particularly the blue-haired drill-Thrall hot alien babe Shana from The Gamesters of Triskelion? Anyway, "Triskelian Mice" got their name from this episode of Star Trek; I used "triskelian" because I needed an alien-sounding name.

(For the record, mice, rats, squirrels, rabbits, nor any other form of rodent figure in this episode not one bit.)

There was one other stealth point that could have been awarded. Since this was originally posted in October, you would have received one point for finding it, one point for finding it twenty-four hours after it was posted, and I would really have pressured Jim into awarding a third point if you had it right. See, when I told Jim about it, I was wrong.

Back in October, I titled a post His only crime was being born delicious! in reference to Phin smoking Jim's mascot. For some bizarre reason, I thought I got that phrase from a Simpson episode--the one with Pinchy the lobster--and that's what I told Jim.

A few weeks ago, that phrase was thrown in my face while I was re-watching one of my favorite Mystery Science Theater 3000, Manos: The Hands of Fate, when Crow T. Robot uttered that phrase during the invention exchange (The Chocolate Bunny Guillotine).

I would have accepted MST3K or Manos for that answer...after having the shock of reading it wake me up and get me to Google that phrase to make sure I was wrong.

So, there you go. Had Dafyd googled all of my post titles, he would have found that and ended up tied with Tiffani for Grand Snooze Points Champion of 2005. As it is, Tiffani stands highest on the podium, where she belongs.

Posted by: Victor at 04:04 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I post an anecdote that may or may not be true. You guess which it is, based on your knowledge of me and my curious ways. Whoever gets it right gets a point when the contest closes. There's a lot to this one, but it's an all or nothing. All true or all bullshit. Here we go:

The Haircut, New YearÂ’s Eve & John Madden
more...

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 01:05 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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Susie is keen to know 5 weird things about me. Weird? Me? Just how am I supposed to narrow this down to five?! Okay, here goes...

1. I clean the toilet seat before I park my keister on it. Every time. No matter where I am, even my own bathroom that (ostensibly) nobody but me uses. This started as self defense. I live with three boys who have questionable aim and are all vertically challenged. Safety first.

2. When I stir coffee I move my hand instead of my fingers so the spoon stays perfectly vertical.

3. I drink milk with every meal. Okay, not every meal - occassionally it isn't available. But, if it is available, I'm drinking it. Others will complement their prime rib with a fine wine and their wings with a beer. Not me. For me it's milk at every meal.

4. I devour books. I take a book like a Viking raider. Broken spines, folded pages, split sections, cracked bindings...when I'm done with a book it looks like it has aged a decade. This is the main reason I love having my own books. I can't properly read a book that belongs to somebody else because I have to treat it like some virgin wallflower. Feh.

5. ??? You tell me. Points awarded for my best weird habits reported here in the comments. One each for actual ones I've reported to y'all over the years, bonus points for the best previously unknown* weirdities.

* i.e. real ones I never released here or ones that are simply made up.

Posted by: Jim at 07:34 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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1 Sucking on giant cow udders, for one.

Posted by: Jennifer at December 30, 2005 08:04 PM (MWUP9)

2 Jen wins!!! That is definitely the weirdest!

Posted by: Susie at December 30, 2005 08:35 PM (a0oF7)

3 Okay, I'll give you the weird for that one. Problem is, it's not habitual. I've only sucked on giant cow teats once. I'm not saying it couldn't grow into a habit if I had easy access to a giant cow (others who've sampled the udder grande can back me up on this), but for the moment at least it's safely in the one-off weirdity category.

Posted by: Jim at December 30, 2005 09:26 PM (oqu5j)

4 Doh! Almost undercut my own game. Clarification: Jen's counts under the "previously unknown" umbrella. And as Susie noted - that's a hard one to beat. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at December 30, 2005 11:30 PM (oqu5j)

5 YOU BREAK THE SPINES OF BOOKS?!?!?!?! Yes, I did put that all in screaming caps. This friendship, it's in danger. Books are gentle, loving creatures that should be treated with the same love you give that coffee spoon, bebe. I will still adore you, but the books? They must be worshipped. They must be handled delicately. Have you seen that ABC special "When Books Fight Back"? No? I rest my case!

Posted by: Helen at December 31, 2005 04:26 AM (MT+uq)

6 I attack books as well... My books are respected, much like my friends and are well-worn and beaten up... much like my friends...

Posted by: Wendy at December 31, 2005 12:07 PM (10FwA)

7 Taking the pants off completely when doing the No. 2. I remember this one well because I thought I was the only other person that did it.

Posted by: diamond dave at December 31, 2005 05:08 PM (zQ+5R)

8 - Running points awards over the holidays. - Allowing Victor and I to hold on to keys for SBD. - Dressing up in Red Panties and parading around the office.

Posted by: phin at January 01, 2006 02:46 PM (DGPlf)

9 With greatest respect for Helen ( whom I adore, no questions asked) HURRAH for bashing books. Yay for spindling, mucking, bending, and folding. I, too, attack books with the gusto of a toddler with jello. Unless it is a first edition, or something eye-rolling like that. I gobble them up and leaving them, panting and sore, in a pile in a basket waiting to be uh... ....returned to the library. Yeah, sorry about that. I'm goona have to out you here, Jim. Having actually broken bread with you, I must put it out there... you drink, uh, other things with meals as well. :p Happy 2006, from one of your wildly screaming admiring fans.

Posted by: Elizabeth at January 01, 2006 04:10 PM (uqPyj)

10 I devour books, too. I try to be gentle. . .but somehow, they end up looking like I swallowed them whole. Of course, that's only MY books. I try to keep the library's good favor. Heh. As for weird habits? Hmm. The only thing I can think of is not a habit but I take great GREAT pleasure in the fact that you coveted my monitor. ;o)

Posted by: Margi at January 02, 2006 04:14 AM (nwEQH)

11 You have sex with your wife on a regular basis. That's weird because you're married and you have three boys, and most normal people would have sex, basically, twice a year by then.

Posted by: Victor at January 02, 2006 04:20 PM (l+W8Z)

12 Walking around with your shirt off. Cuz you know..your children had to have learned it from someone. And I certainly hope it isn't your wife.

Posted by: Tiffani at January 03, 2006 10:04 AM (KE4Gu)

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Blue Velvet: On a scale from 1 to 10, this movie ranks as "Some seriously fucked up shit".

Posted by: Jim at 12:04 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Welcome Christmas
While we stand
Heart to heart
And hand in hand

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 10:44 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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This year's naughty level is about 40%.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:05 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I don't like going to the doctor. It irked me when I was a kid, and it hasn't gotten any irkless since then. The horribly stupid, ironic thing is that I work in a hospital. What an idiot.

I went to the eye doctor today. I say eye doctor because I'm not sure if it was an opthamologist or an optometrist. He was, though, a bit of a prick; and because of that, I now have a combative relationship with someone who I'm supposed to trust my health with.

I walk into the office and fill out all the requisite paperwork for first-time patients. I turn it in and they call me back to the room. I sit in one of those big scary fucking chairs. It's got a lamp, a series of painful-looking implements, and something that looks to me like a face harness. I have no idea what it's for, but I hope they don't use it on me.

The medical assistant asks me a series of questions. No, I'm not suffering any symptoms, just want to get a prescription. I have no idea if I'm allergic to medicines, I don't take any. I have no idea if anyone in my family has glaucoma, because I never pay attention to anything they say. Diabetes? You can get diabetes in your eyes?

Then she says "I'm going to give you the glaucoma test." Great, sounds like fun; where do I stick my dick? "But don't worry, it's not the puff of air anymore. Let me give you these numbing eyedrops." I hate eyedrops. When something gets in my eyes, it's painful and it makes this throbbing noise in my head. However, it's got to be better than getting air shot into my eyeball; and it's sure as shit got to be better than having glaucoma.

I let her give me the drops, after which I cringe and snicker a little bit. "Did they sting?" No. Bitch you just put some shit in my eyes, what do you expect me to do, ask for seconds? But she was right, it wasn't as bad as the puff of air. Of course, unbeknownst to me she hadn't finished the damn test yet.

See, the reason she gave me the numbing eyedrops was so she could poke me in the eyeball with a stick. Yes, in these modern times, we've graduated from simply puffing air at peoples eyes to poking them with a fucking stick. She does so repeatedly until the stick beeps, then does the same with the other eye. I continue to snort and snicker a little.

"Everything okay?" Jesus woman, it's 8:30 in the AM and you've already put shit in my eyes, and poked them with some strange beeping implement. When do we get to try out the fucking face harness? Course, I never say a word to her, she's just doing her job. Her sadistic fucking craphole of a job.

After all this wonderful stuff, she asks me if I want to get dialated. I wasn't sure which opening in my body she was going to dialate, but I assume it was my eyes. No matter what, it doesn't really sound like fun, and I can only imagine what tool she'll pull from her medieval arsenal. "Nah, just need a prescription."
"Are you sure? We usually recommend our patients do it once a year."
I'm sure you do, you crazy, torturous madwoman. "No. It's really okay, I'm just here to get a new prescription for my glasses."
"Alright, the doctor will be in too see you soon."

I wait for an eternity. It must've been a good twenty minutes, during which I rode the chair all the way to the top (it had buttons on it) and back down several times, played around with a few magnifying glasses, and actually took a few hits off the eye drop bottles - nasal spray style. What a rush.

The doctor comes in and starts giving me shit about not wanting to get my pupils dialated. I don't argue with him, because doctors scare the shit out of me. As long as he's not lubing up his finger, I'll do whatever he asks. So, he tilts my head back and commences with a series of three drops in each eye. About halfway through the first eye, he can tell I hate eye drops. Which, it doesn't seem to matter to him - he just grabs my eyelid with his thumb and holds my head back. Yay.

Eventually I wrestle free of Dr. Fuckface's grip, and dab my profusely tearing eyes with a napkin. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes." Fuck you buddy. He flips the lights off and leaves the room before I have a chance to kick him in the balls.

Another eternity passes. But I'm not sure how long it lasted because I couldn't see anything. I started to get hungry too. I hadn't planned on this whole ordeal taking more than a half hour, and I'd already been here just over an hour. Or so I thought. It was like being in a French prison - no light, can't see, hungry as hell, never knowing when the next torture session would start. I consider phoning someone to come get me, but everyone went to the airport to pick up my brother. Solitary confinement.

The doc comes back a while later. At this point I can see, but if anything gets too close, it starts to get blurry. Unfortunately for that doc (who I'm certain must have been a prison gaurd in his former years), I've got great reach. The doctor grabs a flashlight and a magniying glass and begins running me through ocular calisthenics. "Look straight up. Look up and to the right, look right, look down and to the right..." All the while shining this fucking light into my dialated pupil. I'm tearing up again, my eyes are blinking like crazy, and I can hear the blood throbbing. Then he goes for the face harness.

"Place your chin here, and look straight ahead." I do so, he clamps the fucker down on my face, and begins again with the "Look up, etc." routine. What a dillhole, I hope his dick is as rotten and black as his soul.

We go through this for about ten minutes, and then he decides we're done. "Your eyes look just fine!" Well, I'm glad we figured that out. I mean, not like I couldn't have told you that twenty minutes ago; you remember that? Back when I could see straight? Yeah, those were the good ol' days.

"So can I get my prescription now?"

Posted by: shank at 11:29 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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The caption contest is complete!

(Click to enlarge)

Grand Prize: 5 points
Fluffy the Hutt was not at *all* pleased when Han Solo had to dump the load of Triskelian Mice he was smuggling.
Victor

First runner up: 3 points (Selected by the price of tea in China.)
Marlon Brando proving that re-incarnation is not a myth!
Rob

Second runner up: 2 points (Selected by Santa's elves.)
I swear I had balls when I went to sleep last night, what the f#&% did you sick bastards do with them and what the hell am I supposed to lick now?
phin

Third runner up: 1 point (Selected by Cartman.)
I'm not fat. I'm big-boned.
shank

Posted by: Jim at 09:20 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 120 words, total size 1 kb.

The rules:

1. In the extended entry are quotes from 13 movies. Your job is to identify the movie that each quote came from.


2. Guess as many times as you want, just don't get silly about it.


3. First person to correctly guess each entry gets a point. If there are any left after 24 hours they are worth 2 points.


4. As people guess the films I will strike out those entries and note who got it first.


5. NO cheating!!! That means NO: Google, IMDb, searching my archives etc.!

BONUS POINTS: There is a person common to all of these movies; somebody who I'm only two degrees of separation away from. Three bonus points to the first person to correctly identify who it is. more...

Posted by: Jim at 08:30 AM | Comments (26) | Add Comment
Post contains 978 words, total size 6 kb.

Had an email blasted to everybody in the office this morning. It was from our Executive Fembot Assistant:

Good morning,

When utilizing the break room appliances (i.e. toaster) please do not put plastic utensils inside of them.

This can cause a potentially hazardous situation and can result in a fire.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Which led directly to this IM conversation:

CoolyCoo MoDee*: It frightens me that you have to actually tell people this.

DeathAngel**: Tell me about it! Would you believe his is the 7th time I have had to remove spoons from the toaster?! What is wrong with these people?

CoolyCoo MoDee: Dropped on the head too often as children, no doubt.

DeathAngel: Can we do that now? What does the HR manual say?

CoolyCoo MoDee: I think it's allowed, as long as you don't say anything sexual or religious while you do it.

HeadDropper: Excellent. That's my new nic.

CoolyCoo MoDee: Um...

To cap it all off, when I went to take a leak I found myself faced with a wall plastered with boogers. I work with fucking pigs. Fucking moron pigs.

* What? It's an affectation.
** Name changed (slightly) to protect the guilty.

Posted by: Jim at 05:12 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I hate it when you say "Merry Christmas" to someone and instead of an equally friendly reply; you get a scowl and any number of possible condescending comments:
"Hmph. I don't celebrate Christmas."
"Whatever, it's all been commercialized anyways."
Some people will even frown and say they're Jewish. Which really confuses me, because being Jewish ain't all that bad, so what's with the frown? But I suppose that's a whole 'nother subject.

A few years back, I came up with my own retort to these folks: "Don't be a dick." Look, if someone comes up to you and says "Happy Cinco de Mayo", non-Mexicans don't scowl and say "Whatever. I'm from Wisconsin." No. You say "Hell yeah! Let's go get some Coronas!" Same with Octoberfest. Granted, I've got German lineage, but my friends still don the lederhosen, eat a bunch of brats, down some Hefeweizen, and occasionally wake up next to a member of the '76 Olympic swim team. Why? Because it's just a fun celebration.

And this applies to us all. I mean, if someone came up to me and was like "Happy Kwanzaa" I'd be like "Thanks." I might even say "Let's go sacrifice some goats!" Just kidding, you kwazee Kwanzaa kids. Oh Christ. At any rate, if someone wishes you a "Happy Whatever" and it's not a holiday you celebrate, try not to be a dick. It only makes you look like a dick. And nobody likes dickotry.

Posted by: shank at 03:41 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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There's this lady at work, Stella, who's probably old enough to be my mom. Apparently, she's a font of marriage wisdom. I'm not sure what makes her think she qualifies, but maybe it has to do with the fact that she's going through a divorce, and her current boyfriend has been so fleeced by his ex-wife that he sleeps on the floor of a single wide. I mean, between the two of them they have like...almost three marraige-worths of advice to hand out, right?

Anyways, she's constantly...berating me about the things that I absolutely have to do or my marriage won't last. I'm saying - it's like a barrage. She's waving her hands around and her eyes are giant dinner plates bulging behind her bifolcals. She's speaking loudly, emphasizing every other word, she should've been a televangelist.

She told me a few months ago that nothing else mattered, as long as I got a luxurious suite for the honeymoon. And draped rose petals all over the floor. And got the nicest bottle of champagne. It was just complete idiocy.

This morning she starts telling me the following:
"Shank, listen me. NOTHING else you do will matter so much as asking her if you can help her out."
"..."
"Around Christmas time, women feel all this pressure. We have to make cookies. It's stupid, but we just have to make cookies!"
I start making a weird, tight lipped grimace. It's because I can't decide if I want to scream or double over in laughter. My options are to start fucking with her, or just sit through this latest episode.
"If you just ask her 'Hey, is there anything I can do?" Even if there's nothing you can do, she'll appreciate it so much. Because the cookies andthepresentsandthedinnersandthecardsit'sallsostressful!"
I decide to commence the mind fuck. "Stella, you got to lay off the cookies."
"I can't."
"Besides, I'm not good at anything so I never ask to help. Furthermore, I would hate for her to actually say she needed some help, because God knows I'm not interested in helping her."
"But you should ask anyways." God, she so self-absorbed I can't even get her to bite at the sarcastic bait I'm throwing at her. Instead, she launches into this story about how her daughter, sick with a cold or something, asked Stella if she could help make cookies. Apparently, it made her day. Blah blah blah blah blah.

Look, if the secret(s) to maintaining a happy, lasting marriage could be codified and boiled down into a few little pearls of wisdom - your ass wouldn't be divorced. If it's just that fucking simple. Look, I got some advice for you. How 'bout, when shit needs cooking or cleaning, whoever has the time does it. How 'bout, when shit is piling up around the house, you take care of that shit together, ya know as a couple, instead of enabling your obviously lazy husband to sit on the couch and watch you work yourself into some kind of Yultide panice attack.

I mean, fuck. If you hate feeling stressed about the obligations of your role in your marriage, maybe you should try changing that role, instead of giving people advice that directly promotes such restrictive gender boundaries...bitch.

Posted by: shank at 03:08 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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They would start on Who-pudding, and rare Who-roast-beast
Which was something the Grinch couldn't stand in the least!

***Update***

It's come to my attention that some people don't realize this is a picture of the pope.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:23 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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