You know what

I am tired of being the think tank.

I'd rather be driving a tank.

Push 10 mph on that bfi dumpster=

So a different employee has his car in the driveway and that causes much confusion,

When I say to John... technically I am fucking him too.  Didn't you have your R in your hands when Dick called the other day??

HAHAHAH

My Room

I am going to spin tomorrow to celebrate my friend helping clean the shit out of the bat cave.  She has no idea of my music  Very few people I know do.

But:  You are so Quiet by Aguagen is on my mind.

and Insomnia by Faithless

Firewire

and my soul needs to hear
BTs Mercury and Solace, Rythmn's a drug and Imagine.

And so Amy doesnt blow a fuse not knowing the music I'll throw in some DJX remixing the Outfield.

but I really want to flip her noodles with a few dirty ditties too.

yes!

Suddenly I get the Urge to Ask

Hey rest of the populace I love, I'm bent over, so why don't you just get that over and done with? 

Static Cling Theory

I pulled up my carpets to stop making static, as it attracts drama.  This theory was flushed when I moved home.

However, I'm not done with all the story of the Life and Times current events section.

The thing is its too damned much and I think maybe twitter should hit the toilet too. 

However, I shall elaborate more upon that fed to wolves post, as that was just a thumb sucker.  I just got finished pulling my head out of the sand.

I'm about ready to shit can Facebook.

I used to think the internet was the one place I could be me because if you didn't like me who gave a fuck because ten billion other people will.

That ship sailed too.

Somebody start playing cry me a river.

Headhunter

Currently I want to put heads in my yard on pikes.  I believe PTA stands for People (whom) Tongue Ass in my hometown.  Its like a society for asskissers that are in competition with one another for top spot.  I have been through the paces you know.. I've already done ballet and gymnastics ... where I feel I should carry a dart gun and pepper spray.  Incredibly the chick getting out of that Buick has on a Willie Nelson shirt and pig tails, and yes, that is a tattoo.  I forgot to bring my chapstick and I don't kiss ass (at least in this form) That is for squares, and I'm so above that.  Really.

Red Dog used to be a drink in my mind.  Now its the status of somebody's ass whenever in my presence.  Hello jerkoff, I'm not the company owner... but you WILL answer to me.  RUN dog RUN.  Who do you think your boss sleeps with?  See dog piss in fear.

A word to those idiots wanting to try to draw unemployment by means of descriptive license... be sure that when you describe someone to a gossip you are absolutely correct.  Leave nothing out that totally discredits your overcompensation that proves your IQ and penis size might be in competition.

Did anyone know I can make a mean company handbook?  Holy shit that there girl is USEFUL.

DAMMIT.

If I get one more idiot that all the sudden sees I can do more than start a Harley, I'mgoing to tap dance on gonads.

Ahh-Cha-Cha.

I used to believe women were adders.  Women somehow at least warn one another when circling in for the kill.  Men. 

So I guess women are rattlesnakes.

*hiss*

Behind the Times

I like this page and blogging.  However, I cannot help but feel like an idiot as I am not the cosmopolitain of interenet socializing.

I realize this is a cue to get a life.

I argue to myself my lack of prowess proves I have one.

I hate losing to myself.

Hickory Dickory Dock - Me and the Mouse Think You're a ____ .

You know, the mail man hates me because Christmas has come in boxes and if he'd smile a little nicer I'd tell him that until he became an asshole, my former mail-lady got a gift card every year from me personally thanking her for working hard.  However, this prick left records in the rain and sun.  He can eat shit and do his job.  I am unmoved by attempts to be nice since he saw I have have tits.  Should have thought of that over the summer you prick.

Is he what I am mad at? Oh no, I have had no time to really keep this blog up to date with my life in general, and I have to be careful at that.  Right now I truly would get coal for Christmas from Santa, as my thoughts are downright mean.  Truth is, I'm sick of being nice, it takes up too much of my precious time, and I'm no faker.  My current target actually is pushing me to the point of opening my mouth, and boy I think his little dick syndrome will stop being my problem after I do so, but it is entangled with my kid's school, so it gets hairy.  However, I trust that intuition I have about people.  From day one, I have not liked this guy because pretty much I have been delegated everything.  I teach character education at my daughter's school and I am a member of PTA.  Get off the fucking floor before I really put you there for laughing.  Yes, I teach Kindergartners the fundamentals of life.  This month I am teaching Responsibility.. and the prick I teach with tells me its my turn to teach.

Can I just insert that he opened his mouth?  That is all?  I wrote the teacher, who totally gets me, and told her I've got out the waders and to not fret, but I am sick of politics.

I live in the burbs of a bunch of self entitled assholes who drive escalades and poo-doo people that think I carry around a pack of star stickers in my back pocket.

Nope, I carry my brass balls in there asshole..

Fallout from Separation

I am really trying to keep what I put on the Internet categorized, as I see and hear the horror stories of people realizing much later that putting their life online is not always the smartest thing to do.  Can I tell you this has been a difficult path?

I began being on the Internet with good old yahoo.  Then Google arises and one must have a google account if they want to look at utube and in my world, use my smartphone.. Being married, I shaved off all the lard and got rid of too much fluff and blog sites, so after much thought, and dislike of Facebook stalkers, chose blogspot to ramble and be myself.  Then inside that, split google to carry twitter and my familyless blog. 

Enter windows 7.  What! Now I need an ID to go anywhere.  And hello, my good old ISP has email too.

And the Internet wants you to connect them all.

I really don't want to, but the moment you buck things, panic ensues.  I have to be a real person on Windows.  So people can hunt me down like a dog.

So in order to not ruin my future employment chances, I'm counting on google to shut up and accept me as Maleficent.  What a pain.

I just want to be myself, but with the world watching, one can't even do that.

My Newest Fish buddy

I don't have anything that adheres to strict policy and definition.  I saw my coral was not positioned correctly, so I was moving it, and Hansel (he's so hot right now) the newest additon to the center of the universe, attacked my hand.

And continued to the entire time, and much like Romeo, looks me dead pan in the face and I can hear a little muffled voice saying oh food Godess:  Feed me now bitch.

So Funny

My daughter gave Tigger a makeover. Complete with bra.  Oh Lynn I wish you could have seen it!

Still lost in thought

I am never getting anything accomplished because of all the babysitting.  Check please.

Just When it couldn't Get More Exciting

Here we go again, yes, complaining and moaning because I want to be able to walk up to someone, actually a few people, get out the socks and duct tape.. oh screw that.. in truth... just do like I was taught a long time ago.. don't mess around... grab and/or punch larynx out.  Me being short makes this target pretty attainable and leaves gonads out of it, as I really have more females I want to shut up and make listen than males, although the list is climbing.

OK.  In my world, it is not socially acceptable to tell me that you believe in my care of you because I fetched something in the middle of the night I didn't want to.  Then you tell me its bad.  Then I must know more people.  Then kind of say I'm lying.  Then when the crap hits the fan, collect yourself and leave?  And tell me how much you waited.  While I'm fed to wolves.

I want to be mad but I can't. Its all the same old shit.

Behold

Your kid is smart enough to hear noises and not enter bedroom.

I ask her if she heard us 'snogging'

She said yes like it hurt.

Hurray for closets!