Funny Guy..

I needed a laugh today. I did. And I thought I would share it with you. This guy is funny! I don't write much about being a Celiac anymore. Because quite frankly, it sucks ass, and I don't like to piss and moan about it. I think he sums it up quite nicely!

I need a new job. Pronto! I got laid off, sadly. And I love me job! So, I'm on the hunt, that with some other things that are on my mind today, I'm really not in a good frame of mind, so I'm just going to share the video with you, and leave it at that. Enjoy!

You HAVE to be kidding me!!

First, let me just say that I have been cleaning up my website, and getting all the profanity off, and not swearing, and only swearing phonetically with my handy dandy chart you can find on my blog, but today there WILL be swearing, so if you are offending, do NOT read today's blog because Momma is PISSED! I saw something today that made my skin crawl, and my soul just want to cry. What the hell is wrong with humanity?

I clicked a link on my homepage today because I wanted to see what the latest news was on Isaac the Hurricane that is sweeping through the South today, on the eve of the 7 year Anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Which, to me is an amazing, and scary coincidence. I wanted to see if it had gotten any worse, or if maybe , just maybe it had changed it's mind, and fizzled away. No..No..In THIS article it does say what is going on with the hurricane and then it says this....."The storm has churned into the middle of the tight U.S. presidential election, with Republicans this week meeting nearby in Florida to nominate Mitt Romney to challenge President Barack Obama".. WTF??!!! Who Gives a shit?? Unless those two Mother Fuckers are going to go fight in a head to head death match in the eye of the storm, I don't give a flying fuck! What the hell do two fucktard politician asshats have anything to do with a devastating NATURAL occurrence that will claim lives, destroy homes, businesses, and families? Tell me this MSNBC?

Fucking morons will stop at nothing to promote this political asshattery! It's disgusting! Am I wrong? Did this just crawl up my butt wrong? Because I'm pretty sure this is just sick, and sad, and just plain horrible.

That time I went to jail...

That's right! I'ze been to jail! What?! You didn't think they could catch leprechauns did you? They caught this one. 
<-- Really wish I drew this, but I found it on Google images after I typed in Leprechaun in jail, for an extra giggle, type that in... funny stuff there. Like this:

 <--- What the hotel does this have to do with leprechauns, whatsoever? Although, You have to love that his name is Bob Barker. And That it is WTVF, which can only lead to fun times discerning new words for the V.

Anywho.. Back to me, and mah gansta Bravo self! Years ago, I got picked up at 5:00 in the morning by some of the county's finest. I won't say which county, but I will say slackjawed, inbreeding, pig-foxtrotting, backwoods, over the mountain yokels. Officers Daffy and Laffy came into the home unannounced to arrest me, in front of my children, put me in the car and drove me to the station. Because "they had 'wurrents' and I was a flight risk".. .. .. Say what now? At the station, they called the magistrate, let me tell you how happy she was to have been awakened by Daffy and Laffy.... Not. And after an hour or so, they realized that they had not only picked up the wrong person, but that the person in question was supposed to be a male. Back then I was a bit plumper, had longer hair, and actual boobs. Really? Really Daffy? And Laffy? I could understand now. With the short hair, I weigh nothing soaking wet, no boobs left because of the weight loss. I could let it slide..a bit.

So, they apologized, and sat me down in the waiting room. 20 minutes later, Daffy came in, pleased as punch, to let me know that he had indeed found a warrant for me. He was so proud. You would have thought he had crapped the biggest crap in the crap your own float parade! And then he proceeded to stick me into the drunk tank. WHAT? WHY? Why does it smell so bad? Everything smells like piss in here! So, I cried. A lot. I'm not proud of that. During those bright shining moments of my existence, a face came to the window..not just any face mind you, the goofiest ass face I have ever seen in my life! And he just stood there, breath fogging up the glass with his huge teeth, bulbous nose pressed against the window, and the biggest, thickest glasses I had ever laid my eyes on just a'starin at me.. Then he says.. YUUUR PUUURDY! Through the glass... and just kept on a'starin... That's when I lost my sh*t. I bawled like someone just shot my pony. 

Hours later, deputies arrived from another county to transport me. Evidently they did indeed find a warrant. For failure to appear in court. For bouncing a $20 check to a pizza joint, a year before, that I paid back. That's right! I had even taken care of it! They failed to let the court know however, and I spent 4 days in jail because of it. Friday, Friday night, Saturday, Saturday night, Sunday, Sunday night, and Monday. I typed all of that out because each minute feels like 30 in jail. It's dirty, and sad. I had never been in any trouble before, hadn't done anything wrong that time, and was Mad, and Sad.  Taking a growler in a tiny toilet on camera isn't MY idea of a good time either.

Not to mention the crap they put into the food and water. Saltpeter. Oh yeah! They sho nuff did! So, you are constantly thirsty. Constantly starving, I tell you, I have NEVER been so hungry as I was in jail, we fell on that food every time they brought it in like starving wolves.

Every Saturday night in jail, it's quiet. Why? The entire prison is watching Cops. Swear! They all love it! Crowded around the TV like little kids. And a lot of card playing. I still can't play cards without thinking about it.

After four, count them four court appearances, and 40 hours of community service, for something I didn't even do, I finally got the charges dismissed. I had to threaten my ever so talented court appointed lawyer with all kinds of nasty things before he finally got that taken care of. I had to go myself and get proof that the pizza place wasn't even in business anymore.

And that my dear readers was a time in my life I like to think of as just plain F***ed Up.

Helloo... is it..

Tea You're looking for...



By the love of all that is good and fluffy in this crazy mixed up world, why. oh why??!! do I not have this tea pot?? WHY? It's like it was made for me!! THAT is by far the funniest tea pot in the history of tea pots ever, ever made! Who would not love to have this tea pot on their shelf? Not me, I would put that *MamaFoxtrot* on my desk at work! OOHH! Or on a little table in the foyer at home that way everyone will see it when they come in the front door, it will have to have a special little box so that no one will knock it over and break it! Because they would...Breaky Breakersons!

Barefoot Little Country Brat

You don't ever grow out of who you are as a child. As a child, I was a little barefoot farm girl. I was outside almost all day, every day. I did indeed have a red neck, and I'm proud of it. I worked my little butt off. I could sling hay bales, carry feed, haul buckets, and damn near anything else that had to be done just as fast as anyone else could and I was a just a little skinny obnoxious runt. And we did that rain or shine, hot or cold, snow, ice, and if there was snow and ice, we fed and watered the animals in the morning and evening because their water would freeze, so did the hose, so I carried it down in 5 gallon buckets that sploshed on my legs, and then froze on me. That makes you tough though. 

My parents listened to Bluegrass and John Denver, and today the 'Orange Blossom Special' takes me back and makes me feel like that little kid again. You have to be Country (yep, capital C) to even know what that song even is, or to remember Roy Clark doing his version of it, and rolling his eyes around while he played that fiddle.

Country people are completely different than anyone else. We are just a different breed. Common sense was taught to us strenuously, because in the country you have to have it. You need to be careful, and to be prepared. My sister and her husband are perfect examples of the differences between 'Country folk' and 'City folk'. When Country folk walk, we predominantly watch the ground before us, in the country you have to. There could be snakes, wild animals, boards with nails sticking up (ever stepped on a nail barefoot? it hurts like a MamaFoxtrot) broken glass at the river from some *Foxtroting DeltaHotel* partying, bees, etc. City Folk walk with their heads up, watching the people around them so they don't get mugged, and they look in store windows, they have to watch for traffic lights, read signs, etc. It's entirely different. So when they walk together, they haven't quite blended yet and found a way to harmonize the two so that they are watching out for everything together.

We ate differently and had Sunday dinner every single Sunday no fail, talked differently, (f%$k yall), dressed differently, I wore Biballs, that's right, I betcha don't even know what those are! I will never forget the time we served my Aunt Cathy rabbit, and told her it was chicken, and she raved about how it was the best chicken she had ever had... then she puked for an hour when we told her it was Bunny FooFoo. Poor thing.  Rabbit is delicious... Of course that made me the weird kid at school. Shocking, I know. 

So, what happens when you were also raised at another household in town? You get me. See, my sweet, adorable 4'10" little grandma, (I miss her so!) lived in town, and that was the polar opposite, of my life at home. I spent most of my weekends there, summers, holidays, etc. So, yep.. I'm doubly weird, because I was raised two different ways. City and Country. I watch everything when I walk Bitches! And now that I'm an adult, and not that gangly awkward little kid (God, that poor kid, I still feel sorry for her) I'm proud to be me. I'm still awkward as all get out. But, that's what makes me who I am. Weird, yes. Different, hell yes!  

And now.... Ganstagrass!!! City and County!! What?!! Yeeauuh!

Nothin' but net!

I am nothing if not graceful let me tell you! They should have just named my ass Grace and gotten it over with when I was born. I float like a freaking butterfly. I'm a gazelle! Sure, maybe the butterfly has one wing down, and the gazelle has 3 legs.. So?

 <----------- Might as well be me

I have the uncanny knack of being able to fall, trip, face plant, nosedive, and crash land randomly. Seemingly just for the express purpose of doing so. Last night for instance, there I was, happily attempting to skip a rock, and down I went. Only just my leg went down. Aliced into a hole, but it was a hole that was made from where a dam used to be, so I landed between concrete and concrete. Flat on my ass, with my entire leg stuck down a hole with concrete on each side. Grace. That kind of grace and dexterity MUST take skill.  And me being me, the immense hideous pain that followed caused me laugh hysterically.

I'm one of those. If it hurts really bad, I laugh. Especially if it's a fall, and it hurts like a mother. My sister is the same way, and she was standing right beside me, so she got to enjoy my fall at least, but was SO sad everyone else missed it! I feel bad for her. Everyone had just turned their backs looking for rocks or some such nonsense and down I go like a tonka truck over a rooftop, and everyone misses it but her! It was one of those moments you don't get to share with anyone.

Kinda like the time my poor Mom was having surgery, really scary surgery so we were at the hospital waiting, and decided to go wander into the gift shop and take a gander since they were finally open, and we'd been sitting there going crazy for hours. So, my Dad and I wander in, browsing along (I need to mention that my Daddy looks like someone from ZZ Top, usually people don't fool with him at all) and I happen to hear the little old gift shop lady ask my Dad "Wanna see my Beaver?" and I whip around and look at her and then at him, and she has this stuffed Beaver on the Counter.. and his face! ooooohh his face! Mortified! And I'm looking all around us, but there is no one, NO ONE to share this moment with! And gleefully she presses a button on the beavers paw, and it starts singing a Justin Bieber song. (it was a Justin Beaver..yeaaah)  So, she says "Isn't that a clever Beaver?" I can't make this crap up people! She was 80 if she was a day! And still there is me, desperate for someone to share this with.. but no..

ok..

That's how my sister felt I'm sure.

I've always been a little klutzy dork. I used to fall down the stairs so much that I still have nightmares about stairs. I fell down them so much my parents wouldn't even come check on my tangled heap at the bottom  anymore. They'd just hear the telltale Ka-thump-a-whumping of my breakneck descent and say "Kelly fell down the stairs again" and continue on about their business. I'm still convinced that the ghost in the house was trying to kill me but that's another story and it makes me look crazier than I usually do!

http://iblog4.me

The Foxy Guide to Extermination

I used to be an exterminator. A very good exterminator. I could have been on Dirty jobs with Mike Rowe and KILLED IT! It is a very difficult, dirty, thankless, disgusting, dangerous job that I am very grateful I no longer have to get up every morning and do.  But you don't want to hear that you want to hear the dirt, the gross, the real crap that goes into the story, that makes it rich and vibrant, and makes you gag a little....just remember I warned you before you read this.  This is not for the faint of heart, stomach or mind.

First of all let me just state that being an exterminator is indeed a job, just because I'm a girl didn't mean that I was showing up to look cute with my tank of poison, ladders, and various other poisonous accouterments.  I was there to work. And I did indeed. For some reason, though, men seemed to think I was there to lure them under their homes so that they could seduce me, or manhandle me or worse. A 6 cell maglight tended to stop those thoughts in their tracks. Creepers.

And, because I was also a certified inspector, when I went on those calls and had to suffer through countless homeowners acting as if I couldn't possibly know what I was doing because I was a woman, I felt I had something to prove. See, when you are a woman, people assume you can't do a 'man's' job, and when you are a small, relatively attractive woman, people deem it impossible. I even had one lady flat out refuse to believe that I had found termites at her home, and when I came back to her with a handful that I pulled out from beside her home, she told me I had pulled them from my pocket. Really? You got me! I keep 'em in there all the time, just to fool crazy *Bravos* like you!

I had to crawl around on dead mice and rats underneath peoples homes, took down hornets nests out of trees, battled black widows, brown recluses, and multitudinous other spiders, meanwhile maintaining a professional calm. Faked of course. I removed snakes, living and dead, because people are terrified of snakes, even if they are already trapped and dead, people won't go near them. Even the other exterminators wouldn't take the calls, I had to do them and make the guys look like the pansy ass little bitches that they were.

Raccoons in attics? Squirrels? No problem. I even treated a church out in the middle of nowhere that honestly had bats in the bellfry. No lie.... Bats. In. The. Bellfry. Bats are cool as hell! At night, when they swoop down, and you throw a piece of bread up for them, and they catch it! That's cool! During, the day, when they are sleeping, and you disturb them and hundreds of beady eyes swing around at you? Not so much.

The worst though.. The gross crap I warned you about in the beginning, that you have been cringing for... Roaches.. Roaches are the foulest, most disgusting creature on Earth. What's worse? The people whose homes we treated who had the worst roach problems. I'm not talking about a small roach problem. everyone may have had a little roach problem at one time or another. Maybe it came from  a neighbor or the grocery store, maybe someone visited and left the little mothers behind as a parting gift.

No, I'm talking ROACHES.... Thousands of roaches, so many that it sounded like it was raining inside of the worst house that we were trying to treat. So many roaches that every surface of the home was covered in a thin greasy black film. Do you know what that film was? Roach feces, greasy food debris, smoke,  and we never did figure out what else. There was rustling in the corners under piles of trash and clothes that we didn't have the guts to investigate. We assumed they were rats, and left lock traps heavily loaded with poison inside. We flushed behind every thing we could reach with air cans and watched as hundreds of more roaches came pouring out. And we sprayed more poison with our cans. Those giant metal pump cans.. We refilled twice. There were areas in the home, we didn't even dare to go in, or we were just too scared to disturb because we didn't know what would come out of there. Roaches were on the ceiling, hence the raining sound, they were falling off and hitting the ground to scurry back to their hidey holes. They were in the cabinets, the drawers.. the phone....In the phone....Just ewww.

Finally.. We bombed. We had to explain very carefully, and repeatedly to the homeowners that they had to evacuate the property so that we could bomb, then they all stood on the lawn with us and watched slackjawed as we threw the bombs in the front door and slammed it shut. Then.. we joined them in utter slackjawed amazement as we all watched thousands of cockroaches come out in waves from under the crack of the door and scurry up the front of it. I still maintain that they had bred for so long in there that they had advanced in their thinking and civilization.

My partner that day was a really nice guy, but one whom I had only known a total of three days. Usually you do all of your jobs alone, but our boss had been told in advance that this was a really nasty job, and so she sent both of us. We wasted no time getting the hell out of there once we saw the roaches escape. Then drove a few blocks up the street, parked in front of a closed store in a strip mall, jumped out of the truck, stripped in broad daylight and checked each other for bugs. Not caring at all that we were buck ass naked in front of each other, and the whole world. Then got dressed and drove back to our office and flat out refused to ever go back there again.

I've seen other nasty stuff, too. But NOTHING prepared me for that house! Roaches will eat anything. 50 can live off of one small smear of grease for a month. They will eat hair. They carry polio. Imagine thousands! That's some sick stuff. I know what you are thinking.. What the foxtrotting foxtrot Kelly?!! You're scared of them now, too, huh? Good. Welcome to my world. Pull up a comfy chair!
Wanna know how to get rid of them if you ever get them? Call a professional immediately when you see the first one. Not, a cheap fly by service to save a buck either. A Pro. One that will use a baiting gel system AND spray. Then don't let them say "OH! It's safe!" No. It's not. It's poison. Don't be stupid. Exterminators use poison that work as toxic nerve agents, dessicants, and various other ways to cause bugs to croak on contact. It's poison. Go away for the day, come home, and air your home out.

Ants though? Ants are easy, they hate cinnamon. Spray some cinnamon spray, and they'll leave. Easy, cheap, and no poison. Mice? Cotton balls or chocolate in the trap. Feel the trap isn't humane? Get a humane trap, and still put the cotton balls and chocolate in there. They can't resist it. They want to nest with the cotton, and LUURV the chocolate. Snakes hate moth balls, throw some around the house, or under the crawl space, etc. You can spray ammonia in the attic to keep small animals out of there.

Look how freaking helpful I am! I don't see Mike Rowe's butt tossing out helful hints!

Boom Baby!

Golf Claps to me! I will wait while you do so...... ...  ... Thank you! Yesterday, I returned to Dulles Airport, and picked up my two gorgeous children, AND their cousin, with no mishaps, tussles, quandaries, problems, or shenanigans. YES! I AM that awesome. I then drove them all over to see their other cousins who are visiting from Louisiana, an hour away from the airport. Let them all visit for a couple of hours. Drove an hour home. See? That's how a Mom does it! I got up, cleaned the house, dyed my hair, took a shower, drove to the airport..got shiz done!.. took the kids avisitin'.. drove home, went to the grocery store, made dinner. Got shiz done!
Women get shiz done. It's how we are made, and how we survive. At least the women I know, and choose to concern myself with. We aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice. We are made of guts, and teeth, and elbow grease. We figure it out, and keep on rolling. We can survive for days on a power bar and a bottle of water if we have to. Especially if we had to in order to protect our children or sacrifice for them in some way.


That's why these little *Bravos* with their incessant whining, and their hands always stuck out with gimmee looks on their faces, and repulsively entitled attitudes disgust me. They give they rest of us a bad name.  They always look like they smell something that stinks too, and I'm pretty sure it's them. Smelly Bravos, wash your buts.

Seriously? WTF has happened with women? Women busted their butts to get us where we are today! They rallied, and fought, and protested, and picketed, and were harassed, and jailed, and scorned to get us the rights that we have today. To a place where we could even be able to work, or vote or even HAVE an opinion. One that wasn't either A. Your father's or B. Your husband's. That's all you could have. That's it. Want to go back and live in that world? I sure as hell don't! Women today should feel empowered, not embittered. And yet, here we have these women who are happy as clams to sit back and do nothing but act like little 'useless females' so that some man has to do everything for them.
Foxtrot that!

Now, I will take a giant leap down off of my soapbox.. Felt strongly about that one. 

Armpits and Bad Service

You know where armpits and bad service go hand in hand? The Airport! Why is it that you CANNOT go to the airport without smelling someones nasty, foul, four day old pizza smelling, stank, putrid, ghastly, funk armpits? Every. Time. Wafting..Just wafting..

There I was innocently trying to load two of my precious, gorgeous children onto a plane to Kansas today. The stupid cantankerous beaver(*note-I wanted to use a stronger word here but, I've been cleaning it up) whom I tried to get help from sent me to the very far desk to wait my turn, whereupon I did indeed wait. And wait. For an hour. Behind a man who had been standing there waiting for two hours. The lady 'helping' him, never acknowledged us. Not once, not even a nod. Finally, after I had gone over to ask for a supervisor three times, it was finally my turn.. And we were in the wrong line.

Of course we were! I had only asked three different people where to go, how could we not be in the wrong place? Mercifully, after her being rude to me, rude to my daughter (hello? is she that stupid?) with tickets in hand we descend to security and wait some more in the mouse maze, only to be told that Vapid McCandytits didn't give me a gate pass, so I had to kiss my kids really quick and send them on their way.. alone. Whaaat? Alone? I know..They are 17, and 13.. Not Babies. But still, I am paranoid Mom. I don't let my daughter walk to the playground to play with her friends. unless she has other friends walking with her, and even then I worry. Paranoid Mom.

Then, I had to leave the airport, with a panic attack, trying to breathe, trying not to cry in front of people, because I despise people seeing me cry, and wait in the car, just to make sure they did indeed get on the plane safely.

I had to restrain myself mightily not to go back over to that desk and have a little chat with Vapid, now that the kids weren't there to witness their Mom be a Monster Bravo. But, I was already too far beyond outraged.. You know that point you reach when you are crying mad? And then you are even more angry because you are? Yeeeeaaaaah. It wouldn't have been pretty. I would have looked like a crazy person, and been on the news, and embarrassed my family and friends. And they would have been all "Oh it's OK Kelly, anyone would have lost it" When really they would have been thinking "Kelly has finally flipped her noodle!, we knew it was coming!"

Now, I feel all incomplete..and unfinished. If anyone needs someone to tell her she's an Alpha Hotel, it's her, and I missed my chance for it to be me!

Tripping the Gluten Fantastic

So, I said I would post a Gluten blog, and here it is..

Gluten.

And done.

For real Yo! That's all I got! After awhile, it became easy, it's not such a big deal anymore. You eat, it's gluten free, so it doesn't make you sick, and that's it. You know what you can and cannot eat anymore, so you adapt.

And adapt, and adapt some more. Sometimes, you get glutened by accident, and feel like crap for days, while the toxins make their way through your system. Stupid glutinous poison. But, usually, it's just the same ol', same ol'.

It's the other stuff that's a pain in the butt. You try to find food that doesn't have artificial colors, flavors, sweeteners, preservatives OR gluten in it. OR growth hormones. OR antibiotics, and is organic. Who eats like this? Who am I? Brad Pitt?

Me:

Brad:

Yeaaaahhh.... Not hardly.  I'm not gettin' me Mum Pink curtains fer her Caravan either! For those of you who didn't get that reference.. Shame! Just, shame! Snatch was awesome.

Ok, snapping back from the A.D.D abyss, and back to the gluten.. There's really not much to say anymore. I've said it, so I will recap. Be careful little Glutenators. Don't be fooled by packaging. Don't eat anything at any Fast Food restaurant. When your gut feels a million times better after you stop eating gluten, be thankful. Your gut is! Don't give a crap what your friends, or family, or co-workers, or Uncle Gerald, or your cat think. They.don't.know... They have no idea what's it's like to curl up into a ball and die a little from the pain in your gut because you ate a bowl of frosted flakes. Nor, do they know how hard it is to be vigilant in the beginning when you first have to watch every single thing you put into your mouth. I do. And, I'm proud of you!

Yep! It HAS Been THAT Long!

Sure has! It has been a VERY long time since I have blogged at all. And it has been an adventure for me. It's been full of love, happiness, sadness, laughter, tears, rage, health, sickness, work, play,  in short.. life. Life is funny, just when you think..meh..I'm done .. I'm just not meant to be (insert whatever it is here that you thought you weren't meant to be, have, or do).. BOOM! Life says.. Nope.. Here you go.

And think you just stand there and blink stupidly for a moment, or in my case quite a few moments..And then you realize that everything happens in your life for a reason. To teach us what we need to know, or to guide us where we need to be.  The moral of this little tale is to never give up. Never let that voice in your head win. The one that tells you to quit. To stop. To give in. To give up. To back down. To sink.

Swim Upstream.

Howdy, howdy, howdy

I could and should have titled this blog "your life is better than mine". It may just be! I haven't blogged in forevers and evers. I have been really sick, lost my job, have to file for disability, my Mom's Cancer doctor has given her 2 years, which I refuse to accept, and things have been just crazy and chaotic, and just plain sad. I am tired. Very, Very tired. I hope to be on here more often, as I love to write, I just haven't had the energy. The fall depression has kicked in hard this year, and I just want to curl up, and for everyone to leave me alone. I hate that feeling.
On another note Skyrim came out, and for those of you who aren't dorks like me, this is a video game.... an awesome video game, and I am lucky the Xbox hasn't sucked out my soul yet after all the hours I have put into it. The thing calls me, I swear! Kellllllllllllyyyyyy! Come plllaaaayyyyyyy! Freaky ass machine.
I hope everyone is well, and happy, and making delicious plans for Thanksgiving. I am making dinner this year, and I'm actually excited about it. It will be delicious, I will have my best friend, my gorgeous children,who I am so Blessed to have in my life, and I treasure there to cook for, and  it will rock!

Here are the things I am thankful for:

Of course the list always starts with my loved ones. I am very thankful for all those who love me, and put up with me. I love you all! Muah!

I am also thankful for the simple things:
warm socks
hot tea
tv
tucks medicated wipes (Yep I went there! Ever used one? You'd be thankful too!)
good books
laughter
lip balm
sunshine
feeling warm



What are you thankful for? The small simple pleasures that make it all easier, what are they for you?

How to swear without pissing people off

 Years ago, working as an F&I girl at an Auto Dealership, I was their bitch. Whatever the 'boys' didn't want to have to do, I did. This meant that I had to call all of the Insurances companies and verify coverages. Call the banks, and get payoffs or approvals, stamp, shuffle, file, fill out, basic bitch work. I had to read off VIN numbers to morons all day, every day. Sometimes my poor ADD brain, would slip slightly into a coma from sheer boredom. But, then I learned the Phonetic Alphabet. This made reading off those VIN numbers a breeze. Unless of course the person I was reading it to was shall we say 'special', and then I would have to go VERY slowly. Sigh.

But, the phonetic alphabet can be fun, too! We all know you can't call someone a F&*king C&*T. Not in today's society where God forbid you offend someone! *Gasp* the horror of telling someone they have a fault of some sort of other in the vague hope they may change said flaw. Hell no! You will instead OFFEND them, and because of their; religious beliefs, upraising, values, ideals, color, background, size, delusions, pet choice, whateverdafuck, they will claim mortal offense and sue you.

 You can't say anything to anyone anymore. The fact that maybe let's say they were once strippers, and are now power mommies, make's them a former slut, but you can't say that! The fact that the same cow thinks she poops flowers and sunshine better than anyone else, could ever possibly poop anything, also makes her a stupid, dumb, stuck up slut. You know her! We all know someone like this! But you can't call her anything bad.

Let's say some douchebag in the store pushes their cart right in front of yours, You can't just call him or her a Mother F^&ker.  Though, I must say the temptation is strong. The force is a strong one in this girl!

Now, the power of the phonetic alphabet!! TADA! I even added a wee picture for you to peruse, so that you can play along, too! Whatever the first letter of the word is, replace it with the corresponding phonetic stand in. Let's say you want to call someone a Di*k Face...Delta Foxtrot. Weasel Fu&*er.... Whiskey Foxtrot. Limp dick? easy! ..Lima Delta. Sh*t faced C&*t? Sierra Foxtrot Charlie. Mother F&*ker...Mama Foxtrot. That one's my favorite.

Yes, I know..why not just tell someone they are ugly, stupid and shouldn't breed? Because we can't. We have to be nice, and pretend to get along.

Have fun, my kids and I do it allll the time, and it gives us endless amusement.

Is it only me or is it extra amusing that this handy dandy chart I found gives a phonic pronounciation for the truly 'special'?  Gotta love it.

John Bwown's head

No, my lovelies, that is not a typo. I meant to say John Bwown, and I'll tell you why.

I live in Virginia. Close by is not only the Much made ado over Manassas battlefields, but also Harper's Ferry, Antietam, Gettysburg, all close by. Personally, I never understood making a big deal about death, war and the sadness that erupted from it all, or the greed it stemmed from, but who I am to judge?

Last Friday night, my friend Megan, her friend Jeff and I went to a local town, I will not mention which one, in an adjoining state, (that vagueness should keep the lawsuits away) and went on a Ghost Tour. Oh yes, a ghost tour. Bona-freakin-fied.

The host of said tour had a speech impediment that made pronouncing his R's and L's difficult. For those of you, who have a sister/kid/brother/friend/cat with a speech impediment and do NOT find it amusing, protect yourselves and leave now.

The guy sounded, I kid you not, like a Looney Tune character. It. Was. Awesome. Imagine hearing the story of poor John Brown like this..."John Bwown wanted to be baywied in a gwass topped coffin, with his head at the top, and had stipoowations in his wiwwl that he be baywied that way."  He said some other story about someone another who was shoved awound, and what have you, and how he became vewwy depwessed.... Oh sweet mercy! I had to cross my legs and bite my lip.

I know it’s unfair to make fun of him. I just don't care. That was FUNNY!  It was one of the funniest nights of my life. Wandering around while his wife took constant pictures of the 'high ghost activity' and actually got some 'orbs' on film. I don't know what orbs are but that struck me as hilarious, with the filthy brain that I have. And some other lady came down a side street and told us that she got a picture of a mist, which was quite obviously smoke from her own cigarette that she was still smoking. Yep, that bright!

So, for the rest of the evening Megan, Jeff and I ran around talking about John Bwown's head, and pretending to see it everywhere, tried to catch twains, pwayed awound, and generally causing mayhem and discomfort for any and all who may have heard us.

This is John Bwown.

I don't want anyone to think that I am in any way making fun of poor John Brown. Or his head. He was a believer in justice and freedom, and did amazing things. He stood up for what he believed in which was that slavery was wrong, and it was, and still is. The fact that he massacred people to get his point across made him a badass back then. Everything was different then, there was no politically correct anything.
I'm not making fun of him, or speech impediments as my own son had a pronounced lisp. Seriously, Speech therapy works wonders! I AM however making fun of everyone who

A. Can’t take a joke 
B. Take life too seriously
  or
C. uses the word orbs   (snicker...orbs! bwah!)

Food Cravings

I was reading a post earlier by This fabulous lady, who I find awesome and hilarious, and now all I want is vodka sauce. It's overpowering. Must. Have.Vodka.Sauce. On noodles with meatballs. Just the word vodka makes me think of delicious tangy, creamy vodka sauce. I could cry.
For me to have this deliciousness, this culinary delight, this tastebud tantalizer, I would have to make the sauce, and meatballs from scratch in order to make sure there are no traces of gluten, wheat, flour, high fructose corn syrup, artificial colors, flavors, or sweeteners. And would have to use gluten free pasta. Not the same. Not at all. yes, it's close, but not the same at all.
 My kids, mean little buggers, refuse to eat it.
The cravings are what get to me, I barely eat anyway, so going without and monitoring my food intake is nothing new to me. I was anorexic for most of my life, so not eating cupcakes? Piece of cake, pun intended.
But when I want something, and it's always something that would be a pain in the ass to make, I want it now!And I will obsess over it. A LOT. I don't even like vodka. But, I LOVE vodka sauce. I could eat it on cereal. If I could eat cereal, which I can't. Well, I guess I could, but Rice Krispies in soy milk? Pukearino.
No One wants to eat that. If they say that they do they must be repressed and hiding maniacal urges like a crackhead hides their rock. Which, I assume is up their butt, right? Maybe that's why repressed people always look like they have a lead pipe up there.
Food for thought.
*Update* I now have a new love for vodka, evidently I DO love vodka, I was just drinking the wrong kind before, it's grey goose or nothing. Chilled, with a lemon wedge, OH God's Green Underpants! its Glorious.