The Christmas Tree Shops

My Godmother dragged me to the Christmas Tree Shop today. This is a store that is full of everything you never knew that you really needed, and even if you walked in with a strong resolve to "just look around", you'll walk out with a cartful of ceramic pumpkins, useless kitchen gadgets, and picture frames, along with a slightly dazed feeling that would normally come from having a roofie slipped into your drink. This store seems to be a primarily New England phenomenon; New Englanders are notorious for having lots of goofy shit on their walls, and at the CTS, goofy shit abounds.

I walked in and immediately came upon lined wicker baskets. Sweet Jesus, lined baskets. These things are the weakness of every female member of the Pottery Barn generation; until we have lined baskets, the house is not a home. Seriously, do a Google search of "lined baskets", and Pottery Barn is one of the first hits. We pretend to hate yuppies, but we all want our houses to be tastefully decorated in pure yuppie fashion.


Look at those baskets. Look at them! Who could resist? Two immediately went into my cart, one of each color. One will hold magazines, and one will hold mittens! I can see them in my foyer, smart striped cotton complementing the walls...my guests standing in awe:

"Are those lined wicker baskets?" "Why YES THEY ARE."

I did manage to pass up the Grape Relief Dinnerware, and the Autumn Bowls and Trays. I was only going to have Lined Wicker Baskets during this trip, that's all the budget was allowing for, and I didn't need anything else.

[wheels along to the next section]

Oh look! Goofy Halloween shit! Blinking wands with pumpkins on the end (that will break within the first 10 minutes of Trick or Treating...I know this logically, but for $1.69, who can say no?) get tossed into the cart. Had to get three, we must be fair and equitable with the offspring, and we certainly don't want bloodshed.

That's all I'm getting. That's it.

[starts wheeling toward the middle of the store, checking to see if Godmother is done yet]

Oh shit. It's the candle section. I know at this point that I'm all done.

Vanilla Sugar candles that smell just like cake frosting...Fresh Apple Pie, Chocolate Chip Cookie, Peach Cobbler...Dear God, they smell so good I'm about bite chunks out of the wax. I fill the cart with candles.

It's got a gingham ribbon? Fuck. Put it in the cart.
JUST PUT IT IN THE GODDAMNED CART
AND NOBODY GETS HURT.

High on scented wax, it's open season on the rest of the store.

Linens, health & beauty products, random snacks and gourmet foods that you don't see in regular supermarkets, as-seen-on-TV kitchen gadgets...all of it goes flying into my cart, almost as if I was being guided by some kind of outside force, an evil poltergeist that forces women spend too much money.

I got to the checkout with a cartful of stuff I could have done without. But I was intoxicated by the low prices and lined wicker baskets, so none of it mattered. I drove home feeling fulfilled.

The Christmas Tree Shop is crack for the suburban woman. You know you really shouldn't go back, but the inner demons beckon...

I hate that place. But I can't seem to get enough. Fucking baskets.

Fill in the Blanks

My 7 year old is awesome.

"I'm not gonna let it control my life"

Here I sat at the computer this morning, and heard the above catch phrase coming from the idiot box. Now, usually you hear this phrase on commercials that revolve around the following:

• Quitting smoking (I'm-a-dumb-fuck-who-wanted-to-be-cool-in-college)
  
• Losing weight (mommy-never-loved-me-so-now-I-stuff-my-face)
  
• Depression (daddy-never-loved-me-and-now-I'm-bipolar)
  
• Erectile dysfunction (cock-won't-get-hard-and-I-need-Viagra)
• Birth Control (I-wanna-fuck-whenever-I-want-and-don't-wanna-get-knocked-up)
  
• Acne medication (my-face-is-pizza-and-I-can't-get-laid)

~~~
Disclaimer
Half this shit applies to me, so I'm not passing judgement. Yes, I fall well into the depressed fat-ass dumb fuck category, and I don't pretend not to. If you're going to get all offended by me making light of the collective weakness of our generation, go find a blog that's more politically correct and leave me to my shit-talking. (((Hugs!)))

~~~

Imagine my surprise when I realized that an 8 year old kid was saying it.

I turn around and it's a commercial for "Goodnites", an overnight diaper for big kids who wet the bed. The kid was going on about how she was afraid to sleep over at her friend's houses because she thought she may piss herself, but now that she's got mini-Depends with Disney Princesses on them, she's FREE! Free to frolic in flowery meadows, and free to never worry again about smelling like a truck-stop toilet.





My-mommy-and-daddy-were-both-
-wicked-pissahs so-now-I'm-doomed-
-to-a-life-in-diapers.












Now I realize that bedwetting is a normal part of growing up...shit, I've got kids, and I've dealt with more pee-soaked bedsheets than R. Kelly's maid, so I'm not insensitive to the issue. I just find the advertising tactics to be amusing.

A few points:

• Where do they find a child actor who is willing to talk about pissing the bed? I mean, I know that all actors have to do their tampon and hemorrhoid commercials before they hit the big time, but how is that poor kid ever going to live it down? You're the kid who wets the bed, and that's what you'll be even if you win an Oscar someday. You'll be the Oscar-winning bed pisser. Get used to it.

• All kids go through bed-wetting phases. When we were kids, it was rubber sheets and the walk of shame down the hallway to wake up your mom, NOT DIAPERS. I ask you; ARE DIAPERS REALLY SUPPOSED TO BE THAT MUCH LESS DEMEANING??? I'm sorry, but they're not going to sell me on diapers equalling empowerment for my 8 year old.
  

• Many children who wet the bed do so because of underlying psychological issues; divorce, problems at school, abuse...so what do we do instead of helping our children to work through such issues? WE PUT THEM IN DIAPERS.
  

GoodNites Jumbo:
For the Portly Pisser

I understand that it's convenience. I understand that it's less laundry and less stress. But more convenient doesn't always mean it's better. I've been through bed wetting. You cut the kid off of liquid an hour before bed, make him pee after he brushes his teeth and wake him up about 2am to pee again. It's a pain, but at least the kid has his dignity for fuck's sake.

Just remember; that poor child actor is forever going to be known as a stinky bed wetter so that Pampers could sell big ass diapers to your kid. Think about that.

K tries to send dirty pics

So I thought I'd fuck around with the husband by sending him a boob shot at work. This isn't something I've done before, but I thought that after our homemade porn escapades during our weekend away that this would be an easy yet effective way to keep things interesting.

A photoshop-filtered rendition of the attempt. Those are fingers,

and there is a boob involved. That's all you need to know.

Husband was on instant messenger, so I chimed in with my standard greeting.

[15:25] K: how's the porn today?
[15:30] H: not too bad
[15:31] K: want some more?

[3 minutes go by]

[15:44] K: hellooooo
[15:44] K: I'm trying to send you something dirty and you're ignoring me

[35 fucking minutes later! Who does he think he is??? I don't care if we have kids to feed, I want him to look at MY DIRTY PICTURES]

[16:19] H: hello
[16:19] K: done banging the secretary in the stock room?
[16:19] H: not yet, a few more minutes
[16:20] K: I was going to send you something dirty too. I guess you're too busy. :-p
[16:21] H: what were you going to send?
[16:21] K: I made it for you.
[16:21] K: shall I send?
[16:21] H: sure
[16:21] K: (sends link to pic)

[another 4 minutes...why is he taking so long to reply? Does he hate it? Are his buddies pointing and laughing? Does he think me to be some kind of e-whore for hosting it on Image Shack?]

[16:25] H: I'm waiting
[16:26] K: I sent you the link. you didn't get it?
[16:26] H: e-mail?
[16:26] K: I just sent it to you in an IM
[16:27] K: (sends link again)
[16:27] H: no, didn't come
[16:27] H: neither did I
[16:28] K: click the link!!!
[16:28] K: (sends it again. I'm obviously not getting the message that links are not working out)
[16:28] H: there is no link
[16:28] H: its not coming through
[16:28] K: (sends link AGAIN. I guess I'm retarded)
[16:29] K: baaaahhhh, wtf. you want me to email it?
[16:30] H: yeah
[16:31] K: sent
[16:31] K: jesus christ this is difficult

[ANOTHER FIVE MINUTES. What's a girl gotta do to get her husband to look at her tits???]

[16:36] H: I'll check it out in a few, too many eyes right now

[Damn his boss. Damn him for interfering with my sex life. Doesn't he understand that Dirty Pictures + [Horny Husband x (Blowjob When He Gets Home)] = Increased Productivity on Thursday??? Why don't they teach those kinds of equations in business school?]


Digital Camera: $200
20 minutes of taking pics and cropping them: free
Imageshack hosting: free
Sending dirty pictures to husband at work: USELESS!!!

Word verification is getting TRICKY

Hope you've got a German keyboard. Without an umlaut function, your comments can simply go to hell and die.

EDIT:

Goddamn, these are getting weird.
What in the blue hell is this supposed to say? Is that a U? A V? Fuck, I give up.

The Razr and the Tard

As you all know, I am a supervisor at a large shipping company that shall remain nameless. I train every new hire that comes in on my shift for their first week on the job, so I come across some pretty interesting characters. From potheads to gang members to the criminally insane, I'm trapped in a small room with them for 5 days of classroom instruction.

For the last week or so, I'd noticed that the large, bald man who runs the security department has been skulking around the hub. He usually works the day shift, and seeing him in the dead of night is usually an indication of a sting, some suspicion of illegal activity that prompts hidden cameras and strip searches. In the shipping world, theft abounds, and having a box full of brand new XBox games or IPods bust open right in front of you can be a very tempting thing.

My company is known to prosecute for stealing something as small as a CD. They make an example of you. They'll pat you down right in front of the punchclock and lead you out in cuffs past the break area. I've even heard rumors of on-site cavity searches. The smart people know this, and will stuff spilled items right back into the box and tape it up. The dumb ones will snag a thing or two and try to sneak out past the guard shack with it.

Smart people also noticed Bald Guy creeping about this week. Dumb people did not.

During break, just as I was letting my newest crop of deviants out to play for 10 minutes, I saw Bald Guy and 2 cops walking one of the sorters out of the building. It was quite a scene, like something out of a prison movie: employees sitting up on ladders were taunting the guy, and even threw a few things. I was waiting for someone to start yelling "FRESH MEAT" any minute. My students were absolutely dumbfounded. I'd given them the "security talk" earlier in the evening, and they actually LAUGHED and ROLLED THEIR EYES when I told them that the company makes an example of those caught stealing. Fuckers. Doubt me again and you'll find yourself assigned to the haz-mat cage to breathe in fumes for the rest of your package-slinging career.

So dumbass got led out in chains. But that's not the best part.

What had happened was a box with 10 Motorola Razr cell phones had busted open on the sort aisle. This assclown decided to grab one of the boxes, pry the cell phone out of it, and stick it in his pocket. On his way out of work, the guard at the shack stopped him and asked him to open his cell phone (they do this to make sure that it's actually in service and wasn't snagged on the job). He opened it, and of course the screen was blank. The guard tried to push a few buttons, and found that he couldn't.

The genius stole a display model.



Out of the 10 phones that were being shipped to this particular customer, they'd included one dummy phone. And that was the one that he picked.


Other entries in the "Fucktard Hall of Fame" contest:

• This one guy walked out of work with his CD player TAPED SHUT. This, of course, aroused the suspicion of the guard at the shack, so he cut it open and found 5 DVD's stuffed in there.
  

• We had wannabe jewel thieves on this one belt last year. They'd look for items from a certain shipper that was known to be a jeweler, bust open the packages, get the goods and hide them in the sweatbands of their hats (the guards ask you to take your hat off before you go through the metal detector, so it was actually a decent plan). They even had other people in the area whistle if a supervisor was coming. Too bad it went on for WEEKS and they couldn't keep their mouths shut about it, so the security department set up cameras and ended up busting everyone who worked on the belt. By that point, it was grand larceny, and they all ended up doing time.
  

• An unloader was caught snagging a single DVD one night, and they dragged him up to the security office and put him under the hot lights, threatening him with a call to the cops. The guy sang like a canary and gave up 10 of his coworkers for similar activities. And the fuckers STILL led him out in cuffs.

• A girl who worked in my area tried walking out of the building wearing no less than 3 Old Navy sweatshirts. She didn't even bother taking the tags off. And it was July.

Moral of the story: if you're going to lead a life of crime, try not to be retarded. And heed the warnings of the sweet girl in the black polo shirt who tries to steer you away from the fate of prison buttsex.





"Ok class! Tonight we're going to talk about the dangers of ass rape, and what it means to you as an employee at the largest shipping company in the world..."

Shnacks

The children got home from school today and wanted to go straight outside to play. Fine by me, I get some peace and they get good and tired so they'll go to bed without a fight.

Youngest Child got off of his little bus and stormed in the house.

"Wanna go outside?" I asked. "STEEKAH," demands Youngest Child.

So I dig up a sticker sheet and give him a snowman for his hand. You see, Speech Delay + New England Accent turns "sticker" into "steekah".

"Now go outside."

"Oushide?" he says.

"Yes. Oushide." Youngest Child toddles off.

After about, oh, 90 seconds, I start to hear screaming coming from the backyard. This is nothing unusual. I stick my head out the window to investigate. Oldest Child, of course, reports to me on what has just happened.

OC: "Mum-MAY, [Middle Child] fell off the swing and got hit in the eye"
MC: [howls]
YC: "Mumma, [Middle Child] cwyyyyyyyin'."
K: "Whoever can't play nice is coming in the house RIGHT NOW."

[howling stops]

A few seconds later, Youngest Child is screaming, for no apparent reason. He's going through a whining phase right now, and is actually hoarse this week from screaming and whining so much.

YC: [hoarse whining]
K: "Whatsa matter, honey?"
YC: [now that he has an audience, whines turn to cat-like shrieks]
K: "Want a snack?" (magic words)
YC: [stops] "SHHHNAAAAAAAAAAAACK???"

"shnaaaaaaaaacks..."

Youngest Child tears ass past the swing set, and around the back of the house. I follow his progress through the windows. At each open window, I hear him excitedly say "SHNACK! SHNACK!" I hear him pound up the steps and slam the door behind him.

He stands there, staring at me expectantly. "SHNACK!" he demands.

K: [opens the cabinet] "Want crackers?"
YC: "QUACKAS!"
K: "Do you want Juice or Milk?"
YC: "UK!"
K: [pours milk]
YC: "TANTOO!" (translation: thank you)

[Youngest Child proceeds to stuff his face and slurp his milk]

YC: "Bye Mumma. Go oushide."
K: "Happy trails, kid."
YC: "appy tailsid."
K: "Copycat."
YC: "oppyhat."
K: "Cut it out. Go outside."
YC: "cuyiyout. goshide."
K: "I mean it."
YC: "meatit. meatit."
K: [carries YC to the door before I have to kill him]
K: "Shit," [mutters to self as screen door closes]
YC: "SHIT!!!"

As always, his speech impediment disappears when he's repeating a swear.

A short time later, Middle Child appears at the door, covered head to toe in dirt. "Ah, shit, you've been digging in the corner again, haven't you."

YC: [at the top of his hoarse little lungs] "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!"

[old ladies walk by, looking disgusted]

At this point I decide that it's time for my little angels to come inside to be hosed down. Of course I have to drag them in. They cry as if I've been beating them. More disgusted looks from old ladies. Those bitches probably cracked their kids' asses with belts on a daily basis back in the day, but they're looking at ME like I'm the child abuser.






I think that I hate old ladies.











Oh FUCK YOU TOO you old bag!

Middle School is HELL

I got called to substitute teach at a local middle school today. I had a stabbing in my class the last time I subbed 8th grade at a different school, so needless to say I was a bit skeptical.

Yes, I really had a stabbing. I can't make this shit up, truth is truly stranger than fiction.

It was last period on a friday in a particularly unruly Social Studies class, when I noticed some activity at the back of the room. All of a sudden, a kid came running from the back of the class. Bear in mind that this was my second week of substitute teaching.



Kid: "THAT MOTHERFUCKER STABBED ME!!!" (blood running down arm)
K: "What the..." (stutters) "How did THAT happen?"
Kid: "HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW???"
K: "Jesus Christ...go...go to the nurse, or something!"

[hilarity ensues among the class]

K: "Everyone go back to your seats, now!"

[hysterical laughter, and a few under-the-breath utterances of "fuck you, bitch!"]

K: (returns to desk, hides behind book)

After a few minutes of complete madness, I peek next door to the more experienced "team leader" teacher (this is who I was told to go to if I needed help).

K: "Hi, my class is really out of control, can you help me?"
T: "Pffft, actually, you have better control over them than the normal teacher. Dismissal is in half an hour, you'll make it."
K: (slowly closes door, mouth open with complete shock)

[class busts up laughing. "Nice try!" they taunt]

10 minutes of anarchy later, the principal shows up.

P: "What the hell is going on up here???"

Some of the class dummies up, but a few hold-outs stare her down. Instead of telling them to sit their asses down, she instead shoots ME an icy glare (like it's MY fault that her school is a fucking zoo) and LEAVES.

[more "fuck you, bitch!" from the back of the room, this time directed at the principal, who keeps walking]

Then the intercom. The police have showed up, and they want witnesses. 5 of my students get called down to the office. Some punk looks alarmed and stands in their way.

P: "You'd better not say SHIT to those pigs."
K: "Why, will there be a shanking in the mess hall later?"

[Punk stares me down. I silently curse my smart mouth, and start mapping out my escape, making mental note NOT to take the route out of the parking lot that goes by schoolyard.]

The dismissal bell finally rang, and I actually ran out of that class AHEAD of my criminals-in-training.

Needless to say, I never went back to that school again. And I've avoided middle school in general ever since. But I need the dough, so off to middle school I went.

The kids were actually really well behaved...no shankings to speak of! But here are some observations:

• Middle school girls wear some of the most inappropriate clothing I've ever seen. The easy girls at the bars are more modest. One girl had these sheer, skin-tight pink pants with a visible THONG, a low cut white shirt and more makeup than a working girl. Another girl had a thin pink sweater on, with no bra, that clearly showed off some darkly-colored areola. It amazes me that parents let their children out of the house looking like that.
  

• Other girls sported stark-white streaks in their hair, nose piercings, and fake red nails that would make Elvira jealous.
  

• It seems that the "wear your pants as low and baggy as you can" trend has reared it's ugly head yet again...only this time, boxers aren't part of the ensemble. I saw more middle school boy asscrack today than I ever thought possible. Dear God.

• When did Jheri Curl and calling each other "nigga" become fashionable for young Latino and Caucasian men?
  

"In other sports news...Pedro Martinez today took full responsibility for
resurrecting the Jheri Curl trend in New England."

• The teacher came back to see how we were doing, and I told him that they'd been fine (to me, "fine" is the equivilant of "no stabbings, and nobody called me a bitch"). He points one kid out: "Watch out for that one. He's trouble. He's got a few parts missing [gestures to his head]." I laughed, and he stopped and said "No, seriously, that one's loco," and walked out. As he was leaving, one of the kids asked him a question in Spanish and he muttered, "Ah, shut up..." Mr. Escalante, he is NOT.

• A 6th grade gym class ran by the building, so of course my little angels had to start yelling stuff out the window. "KEEP RUNNING, WHITE BOY!" one kid yelled. Said white boy jogged over to the side of the building, squatted like he was about to take a shit, and proceed to jump up and spit water right at the window. The boy who yelled automatically tried to get through the window to grab the kid, but lucky for whitey he was portly enough to prevent exit.
  

Teaching is so rewarding. In fact, I think I'll reward myself with a stiff drink after dinner.

Meet Suicide Bomber Barbie

Say hello, loyal readers.

New For Children: Blonde "Bombshell"

Apparently, stores outside of Modin, Israel carry sticker sheets with Barbie look-alikes dressed in suicide bomber attire. And they're quite popular among mothers who want to encourage their daughters to be martyrs for Allah or some shit like that.

She carries a fashionable bag full of nails and a handy detonator, along with a slim-fit vest full of C-4.

I have nothing witty to add. I can only reiterate:

I'm so glad I dumped Ken for Mohammed!

The world has gone crazy

Photoshop Rocks

My first shot at "adding color". This is a recent picture of Youngest Child. Yes, this is the smallest of the three demon spawn who inspire some of what you read here.




I kinda like how the colors pop, but poor little booger looks like he came right out of that movie Pleasantville.







It was good practice though. Pretty soon I'll be putting unnaturally blue eyes into every black and white photograph I take.


Like this kid. What the fuck.

Necessities

I've decided that I love these shoes.

The epitome of "come fuck me" heels, the Marc Jacobs '654980' offers a sturdy 3 inch heel, ankle strap for added stability, and treads that even the busiest stripper couldn't wear out.



The leather is sueded and soft to the touch so as not to chafe the delicate facial skin of the man who has you ankles up.

At $385, the only real question to ask is this...

Why don't I own a pair yet???

Sueded leather:
Yeah, it's THAT important.

I Heart Foamy the Squirrel

Foamy's Take On Katrina


Some notable quotes from Foamy's thoughts on:

Reporters

• "Stop reporting, and get your asses out there to help these poor bastards off their roofs, you fucking retarded assholes!"

Looters

• "I don't give a shit if you're poor, and now homeless. Stop stealing shit, and help!"
• "You fucking greedy bastards should be shipped out to sea like the fucking bottom feeders that you really are!"

Fuel

• "Fuck the gas. Fuck the oil. We're talking about human life here!"

I need to find out who does the Foamy cartoons, because I will have his babies. All of them.

Find the rest of Foamy's work at Ill Will Press.

WTF - Week Ending 9/24

A short list of "What the Fuck???" moments that I've had this week, both at work and around town.

Boxes with "Do Not Bend" stickers on them

• Will somebody please explain to me how a box that is four inches thick is going to get folded in half?

"Not on the first date, don't worry baby...
and only if you ask nice..."

One Hour Photo that's not really One Hour Photo

1:57pm -> 3.57pm > 1 hour


So why do I still have to pay for 1 hour fucking photo???

Greedy Children

• Oldest Child is getting a trip to Disney for Christmas from my father-in-law. Oldest Child's response:

"But what about the Nintendo DS you told me I was getting???"

Yes. That greedy little punk was spawned from my loins.

Little Old Ladies, Big Filthy Mouths

• Some old lady tried to cut me off at the gas station today...when she didn't succeed, she started screaming obscenities at me. She had to be less than 5 feet tall (since the top of her head barely cleared the steering wheel), and had a lovely green housecoat on. I could tell because she stuck her arm out the window to flip me off. I cracked up laughing, and she almost rammed her Ford Escort into me. Never have I heard such filthy language from a senior citizen. It was beautiful.

I'm fairly sure that the world has gone crazy, but it kinda works out; since I can't afford to drive anywhere, I know I'm not missing much.

That's a huge bitch

This is an email that is currently making the rounds in the bowels of chain letter hell.

Now this is a Crocodile ! This crocodile was found in New Orleans swimming down the street. 21 FT long, 4,500 lbs, around 80 years old minimum. Specialists said that he was looking to eat humans because he was too old to catch animals. This crocodile was killed by the army last Sunday at 3:00 pm, currently he is in the freezer at the Azur hotel. The contents of it's stomach will be analyzed this Friday at 2:30pm.

Snopes has debunked the story (pics are real), but regardless, that's a big fucking reptile.

"I know my rights. I'd like my mammogram now, please."

Save the Tits

What in the shit...


I came across this on The Breast Cancer Site. Quite an interesting initiative.







"Keep your food and water, where the mammograms at?"

"DON'T PANIC!
We're taking you for your
mammogram RIGHT NOW!"

Hunker down, asshats!

So another potentially "catastrophic" hurricane is coming to tear us a new one this weekend. These poor bastards that are evacuating the Katrina shelters must think that God hates them right about now.

Owned. And then some.

As days go by, I become increasingly convinced of imminent apocalypse. There's no other explanation for the widespread suckage in the world today. Natural disasters, glaciers receding at alarming rates, terrorism, Pat Robertson...all of it points to us having our asses handed to us by a higher power, very soon.

You'll needa 'rita after you come home to
find that your house has floated away...

I actually saw lines at gas stations today. Even after Katrina, I never saw lines. People are driving miles out of their way to find cheaper gas, which is the most retarded thing I've ever heard of. You're going to drive 10 miles out of your way to save 5 cents a gallon?

Think about it:

5 cents a gallon, times 16 gallons it takes to fill a mid-size car...that's 80 cents. 80 FUCKING CENTS.

There were gas stations where people were waiting for up to half an hour to fill up. There was a gas station across the street that was 8 cents more per gallon. Is a half hour of your time worth saving $1.20?

Tards.

I found a gas station that was at $2.75/$2.85/$2.99 that didn't have a line. Now I haven't fed the old girl premium in quite some time...and judging from the $5 projections that we're getting from the impending threat of bitchface Rita, she won't be getting decent gas until well into next year...so I decided to treat the faithful Volvo with a few gallons of the good stuff.

K: (in babytalk voice) "We'll get you the Ultra, now won't we baby."
V: [sputter]
K: "Awww, it's ok, you'll feel better after you have a treat." [pats armrest lovingly]

Gas station attendant: "Uh, can I help you?"

Easy on the paint, fucknut.

Ok, so maybe I'm a tard, but at least I'm not the kind of tard who waits in line.

My Birthday SUCKS

I have successfully inched my way this [ ] much closer to thirty this week. Go me. Woo. For my birthday, I got earrings, a call from the school social worker about my son's "impulse control issues", and a speeding ticket. Fucker actually smirked and said "Happy Birthday" as he walked away from my car.




Some sadistic age progression that I did online about 6 months ago. I thought it was funny and ridiculous at the time, but at the rate I'm fucking up, I'll be a stewed prune in no time.







Let's just add this to the list of ways that K has fucked up in the last 2 years.

• Speeding ticket: check
• Lack of real job: check
• Lapsed gym membership: check
• Misbehaving heathen children: check
• Debt: check
• Generally poor & pessimistic attitude: check-a-ROOOOOOO, bitches

My silver lining has turned into tarnished piece of costume jewelry. Fuck everything.

On the up side, I now have a Google search box of my very own, which I find to be pretty fucking cool...but then I'm easily amused, so that's not really saying much. You can search the web or my blog with a simple click of the rodent.


I think my site accrues about .0006 cents per Google search, but I don't really care about that. I just wanted my own Google box. I don't get enough hits to even finance a latte at that rate, so don't feel obligated. I just think it adds some color.

EDIT:

Ok, I just thought of something noble. If I do end up ever making any money off of the hits, I will donate 100% of the proceeds to autism research. It's a cause near and dear to my heart, and if I can toss them a couple of bucks from the hits of the crazy bastards who actually bother with my blog, then that's fantastic.

Hey, even a $5 donation can buy a little kid a ticket to the zoo or a Happy Meal...and who knows, if I attract enough minions to the dark side of the sKWeez, maybe we could send them some real dough.

"That giant fruit
threatens us all..."

You knew it was coming...

First, the devastation...

...then, the shock set in...

...followed by outpourings of support...

...and finally, tasteless t-shirts.















This is what is called "going to hell in a bobsled", because we are moving far faster than a handbasket ever could.

If you're a sick fuck like me who actually wants one, they can be found at T-Shirt Hell.

K Award Recipient - 9/20/05

Every now and then, an item comes along that defies logic...that makes you wonder who in the blue hell would ever bother to plunk down the money for it. This isn't necessarily limited to infomercial items, either, this is shit that is made by reputable manufacturers for the sole purpose of making you sit back, cock your head and mutter "what the FUCK..."

For these items, I am establishing the K Award for Outstanding Uselessness.

The Black & Decker
Automatic Jar Opener

Are they fucking SERIOUS? I mean, come ON, you're really going to spend $40 bucks and suck up counter space that could be used for something useful (like these fine items) because you're too much of a wuss to open a JAR?

I saw it at WalMart today, and I had this urge to set up a hidden camera between the comforters and pillows in the aisle across from the display...wait for the first man to pick it up and look at it...and jump out screaming "PUSSY BOY!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

So, "Automatic Jar Opener", this K's for you.

Paypal is the devil

This is absolute bullshit. Plenty of places are collecting money for hurricane victims...Hannaford supermarkets have cups at the checkout, many large corporations are running fundraisers for Katrina victims...what the fuck is wrong with a website running a donation drive?

Like Paypal aren't big enough crooks, now they have to fuck shit up for Hurricane victims. Will somebody PLEASE come up with a decent alternative to Paypal so we can tell them to fuck off???

Paypal ties up Hurricane Katrina donations

On the morning of Sept. 3, Rich Kyanka set up a PayPal account to raise money for Hurricane Katrina victims, with the intention of donating the money to the American Red Cross.

Kyanka runs the popular Something Awful web community, which is hosted in New Orleans, and donations came in quickly. Within nine hours, Something Awful readers had donated $27,695.41. Kyanka donated an additional $3,000 from his own pocket.

But just as Kyanka prepared to send the money to the Red Cross, the account was locked by PayPal, which launched an investigation into possible fraud.

This is not the only post-Katrina fund-raising account PayPal has locked. Members of the forums at dealmac also say a charity account was frozen.

Kyanka said he asked PayPal to donate the money directly from the account to the Red Cross.

However, PayPal declined, saying it has an exclusive charity relationship with United Way of America.

"I would have been happy if I could have donated money to the Red Cross but having people refund their money and go on this donation drive where nothing got accomplished, that didn't really make me happy," he said.

Kyanka said he could understand PayPal's concerns about fraud, but suggested that perhaps the company could have handled the situation differently.

"You've got to find a balance between assuming everyone is guilty and treating your customers with respect," he said.

HEY PAYPAL...

Big shock huh

This is a baby picture of me. Is it no wonder that I am now a deviant?















I'm a hustler, baby...

Booze, Bondage & Holy Matrimony

We're back from the wedding, and we actually had a pretty good time. The ceremony was beautiful and sentimental, the food was outrageous (lobster, clambake, craaaaazy expensive shit), and "open bar" is the single most beautiful phrase ever to be uttered by a blushing bride.



The ceremony was at 11am, and mimosas were served before a single person came down the aisle. It was supposed to be on the beach, but Hurricane Ophelia (the whore) put the kabosh on that, so under the tent we went. The happy couple wrote their own vows, had non-traditional music (no wedding march or Canon in D at this par-tay), and there wasn't a dry eye in the place.

There were lots of unique little details, one of which was a framed white board with a 5x7 of the couple in the middle, and a permanent marker to write a "best wishes" type of message. My brother-in-law is an ass, and wrote this:

"One day I was taking a hike, and I came upon two snails engaged in a fierce battle. One would dominate for a while, then the other...then I finally realized that they weren't fighting at all! It was beautiful! ~Joe"

He was like the 5th person to sign it, & a few people were pissed at the fact that there was no way to top it, so nobody really tried.

"You forgot the lube? Fuck!"

The couple made the mistake of leaving the board out after several hours of open bar, and there were a few interesting comments left as a result:

• Bukkake spelled out phonetically (boo-kah-key)
• Various messages along the lines of "Thanks for getting me the drunkest I've been since college."
• "Throw a few thrusts in for me tonight!"
• "Fucking beautiful...you guys rock."

Safe to say that this particular piece may not make it above the mantle after all.

Romance was in the air, and The Husband had the foresight to take advantage. As I mentioned in my previous entry, I had suspected that he had made a stop at the adult toy store, and boy did he ever. He bought a bondage kit, strawberry flavored lube, massage oils, a couple of interesting insertive-type objects, and a blindfold. We had quite a go at it and even made our first homemade porno with the video-capture feature on my digital camera. Turns out the husband is warming to the wonders of having a wife who's a freak in the sheets. WOOT. More on that story as it develops.

Flavored lube: It's a good thing

Open bar was insane. Even the $12 martini drinks were included, and I had more than my share. By hour 4 of open bar, lips got loose and I had the ladies of the wedding impressed by the fact that The Husband had tied me up the night before. One of them even stumbled up to him, completely cocked, and begged him to give her boyfriend (who is a friend of his) some tips. The Husband feigned embarrassment, butI think it made him feel good to be crowned King Perv of the wedding.


The Husband and I at the wedding. My brother-in-law took the picture. Thanks for telling me that my tits were hanging out, ass!




We started drinking before 11am, so everyone pretty much passed out by midnight. It cost us a fortune between the gifts, hotel, clothing, and other miscellaneous expenses, but it's a small price to pay for good times and a little bondage.

Once again, we discovered that the people in small coastal towns are pretty fucking weird, and like to give their businesses odd names.

Kream 'n Kone Ice Cream & Fried Seafood

Which of course elicited perverted comments from The Husband every time we drove by. "I'd like to kream on your kones!" & "Do they kream the klams as well?"

Asacks Footwear Outlet

I have no clever comment for this one. It speaks for itself.

They also like to paint their water towers in colorful checkerboard patterns.



Nobody made an ass of themself, nobody got beat up, and the hurricane passed us by. I call it a success.