If you are easily offended ignore this post.... Otherwise read on.

While reading the final book in the Twilight series I was laying in bed talking with my husband about the book and how I hoped that it would have a better ending than the final Harry Potter book did. He asked why I was so upset with the Harry Potter book, I told him I wasn't happy about how the ending was not complete. Granted it told me about who the characters married, if they had kids and blah, blah, blah. It upset me because I wanted to know what happened in between Harry defeating Voldemort and married with children. So I was hoping Twilight wouldn't end like that with a giant hole that reminds me of the giant hole in the bible. What happened to Jesus in those years? No idea. What happened to Harry Potter in those years, again no idea.
From this point I may have went into quite a tangent and ran my train right off the tracks. Somehow I managed to get on the topic of Hitler, maybe because of Voldermort, not sure. In my usual fashion it never ends there. If you are going to be offended it will be in the next paragraph so please stop reading if you are already feeling uneasy about this blog and the people mentioned in it. If you continue reading and send me hate mail I will send you Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, Pornography catalogs, lots of free samples of crap no one needs, and anything else I can find for free to send you. Stop reading.

Continuing on with my runaway train of thoughts. I get really upset when people tell me that everything happens for a reason. You can believe that if you so choose but let me pose this question to you, mostly because I don't believe things happen for a reason, why was Hitler introduced into the world? What good was brought about from his life here? Here is my answer to that question for those of you who believe in that crap. Jesus created Hitler and sent him down here for a purpose, a reason. He gave him all of the gifts he would require to lead an entire chunk of the world into supporting or ignoring a genocide of the Jewish people and all others who he decided he could do without. Many of you are probably asking why I would think that Jesus would send Hitler down here to do that, and here is your next answer. Jesus was killed by the Jews, and vengeance is his, right? So he created Hitler and sent him down the earth to pay the Jews back for his death. It makes perfect sense to me if everything happens for a reason.

Need A Larger Penis?

Everyday I check my email, just hoping that someone I want to talk to has sent me an email to let me know what an amazing person I am, but I am forever disappointed. My inbox is always flooded with sales from stores, recipes, things to enlarge my penis and reminders to check my peak flow readings for my asthma. I'm not saying I am not grateful, sometimes they provide a good laugh but usually I am just annoyed and hit the delete button before I even read them.

The stores who send me emails with their sales are quite annoying, mainly because they just make me mad that I don't have enough money, even with their sale price, to buy anything. I hate those stores and wish I could send a correspondence back asking them to provide me with some cash to buy their merchandise, not just a percentage off. I know, how about you give it to me 95% off. I think I can swing that price. I think I should get that price anyway for you wasting my precious unemployed time to look at your damn email, I might have better things to do, like paint my finger nails or watch another rerun of The Office. By the way, freaking love that show! Oompa Loompa Doopity Dawesome, Dwight is now gone and that's totally awesome. Anyone else remember that episode? It was definitely a great one, but almost every episode makes me giggle. I wish I worked in an office like that!


The places that send me their recipes make me hungry and then there isn't anything I can do about it because the ingredients they want me to use are expensive, and to tell the truth, I just don't want to make the damn thing. It's not because I don't have the time, being unemployed I definitely have the time to make it, I just don't want to. These recipes look like a lot of work with a lot of steps, I call shenanigans. Maybe I should forward them to Brook and see if she will make them for me. Brook is a good cook I hear, I wouldn't know because she never invites me over for dinner, but I believe her because she doesn't lie. So maybe I will send these on to her and put a personal note above them that reads, " Hello Friend, I have sent you this recipe to make for me next Wednesday night at 6pm. I will bring some wine and you cook this along with; mashed potatoes, broccoli and pie for dessert. See you then. Love, Amy". Sounds like a plan to me, Brook may disagree but I have a plan for that as well. If she disagrees that this is a crappy plan, I will make my blood sugar crash as I am driving over to her house. I will tell her I happened to be in the area when my blood sugar crashed and I need food to raise it before I pass out and possibly die. Brook will feed me because she won't want me to die, and when she asks what I want, I will simply pull out the recipe and ask for that, refusing to eat anything but. She will make it and I won't die. Perfect plan if I do say so myself!


My favorite crap email today was the one with the subject heading; Need A Larger Penis? All I could think was, oh my god, yes I do. How great would it be to have a penis? I would be able to pee standing up, I always wanted to do that. Or how awesome would it be to be able to spell my name in the snow with my pee? Fantastical! It might be a little odd for my husband, but maybe he'd get over it?! I mean I could do so many cool things that I can't currently do. I would keep my vagina as well though, mainly because I eventually want a baby and all, but other than that there is nothing cool about having a vagina. I mean I would like to be able to pee anywhere. I tried to pee outside once because there wasn't a bathroom anywhere around me and I ended up peeing on the back of my jeans and then dribbled down the side of my leg, well hell, I might as well of just peed my pants for all the good that did. The lesson for that day was if you are going to be outside and not near a bathroom for an extended period of time, take a beer bong with you. You can pee in a beer bong and point the end of it where ever you want to, but preferably away from yourself, and not on to an electric fence. The guy on 1000 Ways To Die that peed on the electrical fence was hilarious, too bad he died, but at least he gave us a good laugh as he pissed his life away (ha ha ha I am so witty, just like Horatio on CSI Miami. All I need is the sunglasses and to turn my head to the side when I say it).

Elfing Around

Sorry I didn't get a chance to blog on the 18th, I know you all missed my perceptive thoughts, funny stories and other random crap. It's a little after midnight now and I thought instead of rambling on about how much fun we had in Galion visiting my husband's family I would just post a fun video! Enjoy!

News Alert.... Cheez-its Cure Asthma

That's right people, Cheez-Its cure asthma, or at least help stop asthma attacks anyway. If you don't believe me, ask my Aunt Michele.
When I was around three years old my aunt was babysitting me while my parents were out, and I really had a hankering for Cheez-Its, which I still love to this day. I was always a very intelligent child when it came to getting what I wanted and when I wanted it. My parents had clued in on this at a very early age as a result it was a little more difficult to manipulate them, but my Aunt Michele hadn't been schooled by me yet giving me a fighting chance of obtaining of my current object of desire. So I hatched a fantastically wonderful plan to get my beloved Cheez-Its and to ensure that I would be able to eat as many of them as I could before my parents got back home and ruined my perfect plan. I informed my aunt while wheezing a little bit that Cheez-Its help my asthma, prompting her ever so slightly to hand over the entire box, which she did. Score! It's been 28 years since I pulled that little stunt and it still makes me giggle a little. There were many other manipulative incidents that happened after this one, but this was my first great success! Now I shall do my Cheez-It celebratory dance, which is basically just me standing up slightly shaking my butt to the left hand side. This dance is kind of like my clean underwear dance, but trust me it is different. LONG LIVE CHEEZ-ITS!

All I want for Christmas is Alex Trebeck fired and ...

I was asked recently what I wanted for Christmas this year and I forgot to mention a few Christmas wishes. My number one wish that has resided in my heart of hearts for quite a few years now is for Alex Trebeck to be fired from Jeopardy permanently. At this point I don't even care who replaces him, no one could possibly be more annoying than Alex Trebeck. Hell, Paris Hilton would make a better host than that smug, snide, Canadian know-it-all, Alex Trebeck. At least Paris wouldn't pretend like she knew the answer all along like Alex does, she may mock them in the same manner, but pretending like she knew the answer would be a ridiculous waste of time. Paris Hilton knowing an answer on Jeopardy? Right. Alex Trebeck is an ass, and I want him fired.

I would also enjoy personal shopping time at big stores such as Walmart and Sam's Club, funny how they have the same owner huh? Anyone know Sam Walton's family? I could really use this wonderful gift. I hate shopping when people are in the store. People are annoying and I want to shop in peace and quiet! I am tired of standing behind a person with gas. Tired of watching fat and lazy people using motorized carts while I watch people who really need them attempt to walk. Tired of people being in my way and slowing me down on my quest to get in and get out as soon as possible. Sam's is slightly worse than Walmart though because Sam's has samples all over the place, nothing frustrates me more. People are so greedy they will stand in line for pizza that stretches across the store for a piece of pizza no bigger than the end of the fork, I wouldn't care so much if they were not in my way, but that is not the way of the world. They stand in line with their stupid ass giant carts and flat beds blocking my passage at every turn. I have been forced many times to crash into such people to get them out of my way. I am honestly starting to believe there is a mass conspiracy to see how pissed off people can make me while I am trying to get groceries. If there is one I know who is behind it, Brook. Brook must be behind it because she always wants to know how my grocery shopping trips went. Maybe she pays people to piss me off just so I will go deluxe nutty pants in the store? No idea. All I know for sure is that she thinks it's hilarious anytime I blow a fuse. Hmmmm. Something to think about for sure. Brook definitely is mischievous, very wiley, and would definitely organize a large group of people to watch me go absolutely ballistic.

For my next Christmas wish I would like more middle class children to believe they are indeed gangsters. I find this so ridiculously funny that every time I see one I come close to peeing myself. Who are they kidding? I can't help but laugh until I cry when I see them hanging out in groups at Springfield, Sylvania and Perrysburg just to name a few of the local suburban schools. Yes, Victoria you are a gangster, now please go fix mommy some caviar and a glass of my vintage wine. No, Victoria you may not wear my 10 karat diamond necklace to your rap concert tonight. These are the children we should drop off in one of our worst neighborhoods and watch to see what happens. I will place my money on a lot of running and crying for mommy to come pick them up. We might be able to make that into a reality show, I would most definitely watch it.

I would also enjoy being paid to write these blogs. So if you are reading this blog you could be making my Christmas wish come true by sending me donations for every blog you read. The first of you assholes who sends me a damn penny will force me to learn the art of black magic just to curse you daily for being a smart ass. Remember this blog readers, karma is a major life force. If you give me money you will surely get more back in return than originally given, but not by me, so choose the amount you give me wisely. I accept cash, check, charge and bank transfers.

Finally, I would like to make a wish for someone else. He makes me laugh so I will grant him one of my Christmas wishes. He would like onions to be banned from the world. He believes that they are poisonous and that his wife is trying to kill him by way of onions. Apparently she gave him potato and onion perogies without his knowledge of the onions and he ate them, convinced he was going to die he decided he would hide all of the Christmas presents so his wife would not get any after he died. So to stop the attempted murder of my friend's husband, I wish for onions to be banned.

I thought you were drawing a penis on my windshield, sorry buddy.

"I thought you were drawing a penis on my windshield, sorry buddy." Amy Dean 2003

My friends are mischievous individuals who are usually up to something, because I am such an innocent person I tend to be the target of their horrible behavior. When this incident I am about to tell you about happened I was innocently getting in my car to go home after a long night of talking and coffee drinking.

I was up at Big Boy with my friend Ty. He is a big jerk and had been drawing pictures of penises on everything for the last few weeks. We had been up there for quite a few hours and were getting ready to leave for the night. Earlier that day Ty had drawn a penis on my window and I was bound and determined not to let it happen again because then every time my windows fogged up the penis showed up. Anyway we hugged and I got into my car to go home for the night. Instead of getting in his car right away, Ty decided to stand by the passenger side of the car and started to draw something on my windshield. Fearing the worst I started to back out of the parking spot while yelling, " I do not want a penis on my windshield!". As I was backing out I felt something go bump in the night and then heard a scream immediately after the bump. I stopped my car and rolled the window down to ask what that bump was and why he was yelling. The response I got was, "You ran over my foot you asshole, I was writing I love you, and you ran over my foot. What in the hell? Who does that?". My response of course was, "I thought you were drawing a penis on my windshield, sorry buddy.". This was followed by maniacal laugh coming from somewhere deep inside me, extremely inappropriate after running your friend's foot over I know, but damn it was funny. Ty's foot was fine other than the tire treads on his foot. At least we were even now. He put shoe tread marks on my nipple, I put car tread marks on his foot. Revenge is sweet, even when totally unplanned. Sometime later I will explain the shoe tread marks left on my nipple but for now I will offer this simple explanation. I was laying down on the booth at Big Boy and Ty decided to place his foot up on the bench seat that I was laying on and the shoe made contact with the nipple and pinned it between the bench and the shoe.

What in the hell is wrong with my family?!

What in the hell is wrong with my family? There are times I can't do anything but shake my head and wonder what kind of drugs they are on. This is a video my cousin put on you tube. George-fish gravy 
I honestly don't know what else to say about this so I will let the video do the talking for me. I think this is one of the only times I have been utterly speechless.

The Ten Best Things About Living In My Trailer Park.

Living in a trailer park was never my idea of the world's best place to live, ideally I wanted a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, pool, hot tub and a gardener. What was I thinking? A trailer park is the best place in the world to live! Here is my top 10 reasons I love living in my trailer park!

10. The manager is like my mother. She reminds me daily that my dog poops, my trailer needs painted, my grass needs mowed, and not to park in the street. I even get to do lists placed ever so neatly in my door handle on a daily basis, she is the best!

9. There are cats all over the place that sing everyone to sleep nightly. It's a beautiful lullaby every single night! Who could ask for anything better!

8. I always know when it is 9am and 9pm, I don't even need a clock! I have a mentally challenged person living behind me who screams at the top of her lungs like a giant alarm clock! It's fabulous!

7. When winter hits and it starts to snow the maintenance man builds me a giant sledding hill at the end of my driveway! I live on a corner and instead of putting it on one side or the other he places it directly at the end of the driveway! Oh and the other fabulous thing he does is turn the streets into a skating rink! Why should you plow the snow down to the ground when you can skim it and then forget to put salt down. Since the salt isn't down when the sun comes out it starts to melt the snow but then it all freezes over later in the day again and instant rink!

6. My basement will never flood, nor will my husband be able to fill it up with crap!

5. All summer I can watch the local deviant children yell at each other, fight each other, and call each other names! Thank goodness I live directly across from the park!

4. I can keep updated on the latest fashion trends. This year tweety bird sweatshirts, t-shirts, and hats are in style! It was a close call though, mickey mouse almost won!  It's almost like living in Milan or Paris! Watch out fashion here comes my neighborhood!

3. Safety in the number one priority in my trailer park. The cops are always driving around protecting us from the people on the outside.

2. People are so helpful around here. They are always knocking on my door asking if I need my leaves raked, snow shoveled, car washed, or gardening done. All they want in return is enough money to buy diapers, while they smoke their natural herbs.

1. I never need to watch another soap opera again. Reality is so much more entertaining around here. People screaming at the top of their lungs at their significant other in the middle of the street, car doors slamming, and people crying. It's the best entertainment ever, and it's free! Best of both worlds.

Sorry I Pooped in Your Cardboard Box.

Interesting title for a blog, right? Well trust me it has quite the story behind it. I worked for owens corning basement systems for a little over a year as a canvasser, basically I went door to door signing people up for free estimates to finish their basements in the metro Detroit area. During this time period I had my diabetic medications changed, and it wreaked havoc on my life. My dosage of metformin was changed to a higher dose, causing me to have severe diarrhea.
My manager dropped me off in neighborhood that was in the process of being built. A few homes had people living there but for the most part the homes were still being built. I went door to door like normal and got quite a few people signed up for estimates. All of a sudden I got this horrible cramping feeling and knew I was in a lot of trouble if I didn't find a bathroom soon, and by soon I meant immediately. I started looking around like a crazy person for a bathroom. When I was unable to locate one in the immediate vicinity, I panicked and called my manager to come pick me up. I called and got some extremely unfortunate news; he was well over a half an hour away. My colon was not going to wait that long, so I started searching for other options. Option number one was taking a crap in the street, not a valid option. Option number two was to knock on a door and hope they would let me use the bathroom; normally this would not be an issue but the only house I could possibly get to was the model house. Then inspiration stuck me, if it was a model home it had to have a functional toilet right? One issue, have you ever tried to get into a model home without a realtor? My guess is you haven't ever attempted that. The doors are always locked with one of those keypad things that hold the key. I had no idea what the code was so I tried the garage door and like magic I found I could pull it up without too much effort. So I went in through the garage door and put it back down quickly while hoping all the while that no one had witnessed my breaking and entering incident.
I opened the door from the garage that lead into the house, and went to work finding a bathroom. I found the bathroom quickly and was super excited until I realized the toilet didn't exist. I mean seriously, who doesn't furnish a bathroom with a toilet. It was so disappointing. So here I am in a home that I committed a crime to get into and there isn't even a damn toilet. Plotting my next move, I remembered there was a large cardboard box in the garage. I don't think I have ever squeezed my butt cheeks together so hard in my life as I waddled like a penguin out to the garage. My butt was burning by this point and the only thing I kept thinking was I had to keep it in until I could get to that cardboard box. Once I reached that box things happened so quickly from there. I pulled down my pants and took the most gratifying crap ever. Then I realized I had another serious problem I hadn't thought about, toilet paper. Thank god I had my contact papers for the people who had signed up for estimates, so I used some blank ones to wipe my butt with and left them in the cardboard box I had almost completely filled with poop. Using regular copy paper as toilet paper provides it's own unique challenges, the main one being wiping well while not giving yourself a giant paper cut on your butt. I definitely did not succeed in this endeavor, I had quite a few paper cuts on my bum and let me tell you it's not a pleasant feeling. So not only was my pride injured, my butt was bleeding and burning at the same time from the paper cuts. Moral of the story is if you must poop in a cardboard box, make sure you have toilet paper or suffer the humilation of paper cuts on your anus.

New Fun Game At Wal-Mart!

Ok, so we all know I can get a bit grouchy while I am shopping, as evidenced by a previous blog. I went shopping today at Wal-Mart and was definitely upset to find so was 3/4 of the population of the city of Toledo, fabulous. I decided to be brave and go in to get the things I needed. I walked in and was immediately bombarded by not one, not two but three greeters. Who in the hell needs three people to tell you welcome to Wal-Mart in one entrance? Not me. That's just way to many people to thank for welcoming you to hell. It makes me wonder though when someone goes to hell, how many people welcome them? I am going to guess by today's experience, three.
So after I am greeted by the three ridiculous individuals paid to welcome me to Wal-Mart I grab a cart very quickly to avoid being welcomed again and I walk through the sliding door into my own personal hell. Hundreds of people shopping during Christmas time is as responsible for my happiness as sliding down a banister of razorblades into a pool of rubbing alcohol.
I just had a few things to pick up and figured it shouldn't take too long, I should have known better. I started walking down the aisles and quickly realized how rude people are. It should be their top priority to make sure that their carts are out of my way as to not slow me down. I was so pissed and had already said excuse me more than once. So I did what any sane person would do and decided since they were ignoring me I would punish them. I took this lady's cart and moved it myself. With the stealth of a ninja I grabbed her cart, without getting her attention and moved her cart about a hundred feet away from her and then watched from a short distance as she went to put a shirt into her cart. The shirt fell down on the dirty floor of Wal-Mart and I honestly could not help but chuckle as her face went from total confidence to a shocked look followed by a look of genuine panic. After a minute or so she spotted her cart and immediately went over to grab it. I could hardly contain my happiness! I was laughing so hard I almost peed myself. 
 I am going to institute this new form of discipline every time I go to Wal-Mart for those who can not move the cart the first time I ask, and won't you feel silly when you can not locate your cart. If you are a repeat offender I will have to move it to the other side of the store or hide it in the garden center. I will trail you from behind the whole time you are playing hide and go seek with your cart. OOOOHHHH wait I have a much better idea. I am going to get ahead of you and put the cart back where you were originally were when you decided to break the rules of common decency. That is until you get close to finding it again, and then I will be forced to hide it again. Maybe then the next time when I ask you politely to move you cart out of my way, you'll move it.

I DID NOT OVERREACT... It was totally justified.

It's that time of year again, Christmas time. It's a time for family and friends to go to the mall and buy people the presents they want, right? Wait, that's not what Christmas is all about? Are you sure, because I am pretty sure it's all about presents, food, family and friends, not baby Jesus. If it was all about baby Jesus wouldn't we all be buying presents for a child in Mexico? How lucky would that kid be? I would have loved to be that kid, people sending me presents from all around the world! Unfortunately, my name is not Jesus and I don't live in Mexico. Maybe I'll have a child name it Jesus and then my kid will have a killer Christmas.
OK I got off track a little bit I guess. So like I was saying, Christmas is the time of year we stress ourselves out trying to make all of our friends and family happy by buying them gifts, eating until we burst, spending time with our family and friends, and drinking ourselves stupid to make that time spent with them more enjoyable.
I personally tend to get really stressed out and on edge around Christmas time. When I was 23 all I wanted for Christmas was a pair of pink Adidas shoes and pink shoelaces to accompany the shoes. Seriously that was all I wrote down on my Christmas list, so I assumed I would get those shoes for Christmas. I was so excited to show my friends my new shoes I had told them all about. Christmas morning finally came and I couldn't wait to open up my brand new pair of shoes! I tore through my presents and found the first part of the only two items on my list. There sitting in front of me was the pink shoelaces to go with my pink Adidas shoes. I was stoked! There were only a few presents remaining that could possibly contain my prized shoes. Well, I opened all of the rest of those presents and no shoes. I was so upset, I am sure I looked like someone killed my dog. My  mom piped up and said, "Oops, we forgot one of your presents in the basement.". Immediately I was relieved and thought, here comes my shoes. She came back upstairs with a small box and handed it to me. It was a personalized medic alert bracelet. I have never been so angry in my life, but I am pretty sure I completely overreacted. I stood up and raced up to my room while yelling about getting the shoelaces but no shoes and how completely ridiculous that was. I stayed up in my room for the rest of the day in tears. Now most of you might believe that maybe my parents gave me the shoes the next day or something like that? No. I never got those shoes to match the pink shoelaces. If you ask me, I am still a little bit bitter about it, and I honestly don't remember the reason for not getting my shoes. It was probably a decent reason but I am bitter over getting just the shoelaces that didn't have any reason to be bought. I didn't have any other pink shoes to pair them with. All I know is I might have overreacted a little bit but imagine asking an IPod and a car charger for the IPod. Nice right? Now imagine your parents just buy you the IPod charger but not the IPod. How would you react?
I wish I was baby Jesus. I would have gotten those shoes and shoelaces for sure. I mean who really wants to piss off baby Jesus? Maybe I can change my name and make myself female adult Jesus? Now there is a thought.

Snap, Crackle, Pop...

Have you ever had one of those days when you would give anything to take back what you did out of a mix of anger, frustration, and just plain rudeness? My last adventure in nutty pants land happened at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is frustrating in it's own right, but add in the factors of it being the first week of the month and that I was in pain and you have a situation (ha ha ha situation).
I was headed to Wal-Mart on that fateful day in June for a few necessary grocery items. You see, I was having surgery on my ankle the next day and my husband wouldn't have had time to pick these few items up. I walked in and realized there weren't any of those motorized carts left, so I politely asked the greeter if there happened to be any at the other end of the store. Using her walkie talkie she asked the person at the other entrance and he informed her there definitely was not any over there either. In pain I resigned myself to waiting for a motorized cart. Ten minutes later, still no cart. So I did what any sane person would have done and I popped two vicodin, grabbed a regular cart and began my grocery shopping.
I am not the nicest person when I feel I have personally been wronged, and I took the lack of motorized carts as a personal attack, as if they knew I was coming and paid people to take all the carts, rendering me unable to use one. So being myself I was on the lookout for anyone who had a motorized cart to be completely sure that said individual had a greater need than I did for it. Immediately I encountered a senior citizen riding one of the carts, this was ok with me because she was old and looked sickly. I went down another aisle to pick up some crackers and then I saw her, the biggest woman I have ever encountered riding on MY motorized cart. I was suddenly infuriated. She weighed well over 400lbs and had cookies, ice cream and candy in her cart, it made me even more angry, I could barely stand it. I mean here I am barely able to walk and in an intense amount of pain and she has taken MY motorized cart because she is apparently too fat and lazy to walk. I realize I am in no way thin, however I walk when I am at a store and my cart is not filled with ice cream, candy and cookies. Something in my brain snapped and this started a chain reaction I couldn't stop. It was like the snap caused whatever I was thinking in my brain to shoot out of  my mouth in the most horrible and vile way.
As I approached her I began speaking. I informed her that I needed a motorized cart and that I was unable to have one because she was morbidly obese and too lazy to walk. I told her that she should put her ice cream, cookies and candy back and she might lose enough weight to walk. She continued to stare at me and then I told her that maybe, just maybe if she did walk she'd lose more weight and reduce her blood sugars. She made a noise to protest but before she could even get it out I screamed, "Don't tell me you aren't a diabetic. It is not possible with your weight and the food in your cart that it is even possible you have normal blood sugars. Get up and walk you lazy piece of fat.". A crowd had started to gather around us as I continued to berate this woman and suggest other things she should buy and eat such as, fruit and vegetables. I thought this crowd of people would come to her aid, but either they were in agreement with me or scared of me. I imagine I looked pretty crazed at that moment, I would have been scared of me. I do know that a few of them agreed with me as a few people started clapping. At this point I realized I was being awful and decided I should more than likely stop. I asked her if she had learned anything from this moment, but she was speechless. Due to her not speaking when I asked her a question, I continued on to ask her if I needed to give her a minute so she could finish chewing the twinkie she just ate. People from the crowd continued to encourage my awful behavior and I finally left this poor morbidly obese woman to continue expanding her waist her with her grocery shopping choices. Maybe I should have picked up a box of Rice Crispies as a gentle reminder to call ahead the next time and reserve a motorized cart if I am in too much pain, but what kind of a show would that be for the interesting folks at Wal-Mart?! I sure hope that lady learned a very valuable lesson out of that experience, don't mess with crazy people who are in pain.

He Loves Me Because I'm Unique?!

I posed a question to my husband, "why do you love me?", he responded, "because you are unique". I am far from unique. I am quite sure there is someone out there who is like me, there has to be right? I am sure someone else would tell their husband they are feeling sullen, make a sullen face and then wait for their husband to respond. When he fails to respond and just stares at you, doesn't everyone decide to flick their husband in the chin and tell him sternly to care that you are feeling sullen? Honestly, who doesn't do that? Unique... Ha! Nope. Apparently I am also one of a kind in some of the random things I say, I don't believe this to be true. I completely agree that sometimes I do come up with random things at the oddest of times, but does that make me unique?! Complaining that the purple unicorns with green ninjas on their backs are staring at me during dinner is a common conversation, right? Offering to pee on your friend's leg if a ninja jelly fish were to attack aforementioned friend while sitting at a restaurant is common place. I think I am getting off track here, and possibly proving my husband's point. Maybe I should just accept that the little aqua people have gotten to his brain and informed him that he should respond with, "I love you because you are unique", just to irritate me. All I wanted was a simple answer of, you are the most wonderful woman in the world, even if you sound like Donald Duck when the back of your throat is itchy.

The death and resurrection of the plubber raccoon...

Kado Kalin, my two year old white German Shepard is a very clever dog. A few weeks ago he disemboweled his plubber (rubber toy with a layer of plush) raccoon. He carried this ridiculous raccoon with him everywhere he went. The only times he let go of it was to go outside to go to the bathroom, eat, and to make you throw the damn thing so he could chase it as it flew down the hallway. He was basically tied at the mouth to this damn raccoon. Kado is widely known for his destruction of all toys, there has not been a toy yet that he has not been able to effectively destroy within a month or two of play. His poor raccoon was completely wrecked a few weeks ago, so I did what any responsible pet owner would do, I threw it away. Kado watched with utter dismay as I placed the raccoon in the trash. He continued to watch the trash pile on top it for the next few hours. Patiently he waited while plotting his move to recover the beloved raccoon from it's burial spot in my trash can.
I have to admit I am the laziest person ever when it comes to placing the lid of the trashcan in the spot where it is meant to reside, on top of the damn can. I believe it's only use is to hide your trash from those who come over to your home to visit. I don't know about you but, I hate visitors. Kado doesn't ever get into the trash can so honestly there isn't any reason other than to hide the trash from view for placing the lid onto the trash can.
I didn't realize Kado was plotting his revival of the raccoon as I left to go to the grocery store that day. I was gone less than an hour, due to my loathing for the grocery store (future blogging topic). When I returned home that day I walked into our front door and went to set the groceries down on the dining room table before putting them away, I realized something wasn't right. Kado was cowering on his pillow with that damn raccoon in his mouth. He was protecting it like a homeless alcoholic would protect his bottle of Mad Dog. I asked him what he had and he dropped it out of his mouth and placed it under his chin in a sad attempt to hide the raccoon from me. Then I turned to look at the trash can to see how exactly he had removed the raccoon from under all those layers of added trash. Kado had daintily removed each and every piece of trash and placed it next to the trash can, somehow he managed to even get out a coffee filter filled with old grounds without spilling the grounds on the floor. I cleaned up all the trash and then walked over to the dog, who hadn't moved a muscle by the way. As I looked into his sad brown eyes I realized I just couldn't take the raccoon away from him. He had gone to all that work to unearth his treasured friend from his garbage grave, and I just couldn't spoil his efforts. Three days later it was the day the grim reaper came calling, trash day. I knew I had to get rid of the raccoon, mostly because he was still chewing pieces of rubber off and leaving them all over my floor. I distracted him with a dog biscuit and proceeded to steal the treasured raccoon and place him in the trash bag and put it out by the curb. He didn't even notice. After all that work he did to recover his friend from a landfill burial place, all it took was a biscuit to make him forget to protect it. The raccoon has gone to a better place now, so please don't be sad, but if you must be sad, do so for the dog. He has lost his best friend, he sold out for a biscuit. I am sure he blames himself, maybe I should enroll him in therapy. On second thought, maybe not. I am not sure I want a psychologist knowing the things about me my dog knows, they might lock me away in the psych ward forever.

Kado would like to let anyone know who is reading this blog, he would like a new plubber animal to be his forever friend. Well, at least until his disembowels it and it has to go to the landfill in the sky.



Raccoon Toy





Kado Kalin



Punish those who follow the rules.

I have been unemployed for nearly a month now, and am going completely insane. My husband is working three part time jobs to attempt to support us, but unfortunately we are still unable to make ends meet. I looked up the guidelines to getting some help from the government in the way of food stamps, I found out that we are making $100 over the limit to recieve assistance. This pissed me off and really made me evaluate how unfair the system is. I didn't get pregnant in high school, I didn't have a child without having a husband, and to top it all off, my husband is working three jobs to try to support us. Yet, those who aren't doing those things are recieving assistance.
As I reflected on this I realized maybe I should get pregnant, divorce my husband and never work again. If I did all three I would be able to recieve all sorts of assistance. I could go to college for free, get way more money for food than I could ever spend, get a monthly check, free healthcare, and for even more extra cash I could sell the extra food stamps that I don't use. Imagine how much better my lifestyle would be, not to mention how much money I would get from the government on my income tax return. The kicker, I wouldn't have to work and I'd get a tax return! This sounds like the best life plan ever. Where would I live, one might ask. Well, let me assure you the government would find me low income housing and I would be fine. I would have heat, air conditioning, cable television, and hell maybe even a Wii or two. All things I am unable to afford because I did things the right way but have found myself in the midst of hard times currently. I graduated high school, paid to go to college (although I can't finish because I can't afford it), got married and am not yet pregnant because I am scared shitless to get pregnant without having a job.
I blame my parents for my doing things the right way and in the right order. They made me hold myself accountable for my choices and taught me why I didn't want to be a drain on society. My father told my sister and I from the time we started our periods, if we got pregnant before we were married we were on our own. He said he would throw us out and that we had better get a job to support ourselves and our child. Never once did my father mention that it would be ok to get pregnant and mooch off of people who work hard to pay their bills. Never once did my father mention that a great way to go through college was to get pregnant so we could go for free. He made us take out student loans, work, and go to school. He made us responsible and to only ask for help when it was necessary, but to do your best to avoid situations that may cause you to require help in the first place. What horrible parents, right? Why didn't I have parents who told me from an early age how to work the system? Why did I have to learn about birth control? Why did I have to have high expectations from my parents? Why, because they loved me and wanted nothing more than for me to not only be happy but a productive member of society.
Paying bills is hard no matter who you are, unless of course you happen to have unlimited money. Just because paying bills is hard that in no way means that you should quit your job and let those who are working support you. I don't understand why people just quit their jobs with no intention of finding another one, or purposely get fired for that matter. You are a drain on society and keep people who honestly need the assistance from recieving it. Maybe I should have my husband just quit his jobs and then be a drain on society, it sure does seem easier, doesn't it? It amazes me how some of the people who are recieving assistance have some of the nicest cars, gaming systems, amazing stereo systems, designer clothes, top of the line shoes, get their hair done weekly at a cost of over $100, and have their nails done on a consistent basis. It is a lifestyle that should be reserved for those who have worked hard to achieve it, not those who have worked hard to work over the government.
What really lights my tampon though is how they keep having children in order to get more money. Honestly, I think they should recieve less per child. Maybe if they started reducing the amounts these people would go out and get a job instead of sitting on their ass at home and reproducing. It may make them think twice and use some of that money they recieve to buy condoms or birth control pills. If they still can't seem to do something responsible maybe we should pass a bill to sterilize them permanently. I realize this violates the rights of these people but if I am paying for their nice cars, utilities, rent and food, I should get some kind of a say.
Another thing that burns me is disability. Don't get me wrong, like welfare there are those who need help, and those who unfortunately abuse the system. I get so pissed when I see those who are on disability for their back problems helping a friend move their heavy couch. I amazed that they are so injured that it has rendered them unable to work, yet they can pick up a couch. The even more interesting part is how some of these people sell their pain pills for extra money. If you sell your pain pills, that tells me you aren't in too much pain. I know personally when I hurt you can't get me to even keep my pills in another room, much less sell them and leave myself without any kind of pain management. It is so frustrating. So here is my suggestion, for those who are supossed to be on a pain killer to do random pee tests to make sure it's in their blood stream. If there is no trace of the drug, take away their assistance. Plain and simple. If it isn't in your blood you must not be badly injured and can likely work.By work I in no way mean working under the table to enable you to collect from the government as well as an employer. I also would like the government to hire more employees to monitor those who are on disability to make sure they are not abusing the system. I will gladly volunteer to be employed as a tattle tale, all I ask in return is decent pay, medical benefits, and a 401K.
So to quickly summarize my feelings, welfare and disability are only working for those who didn't follow the rules and are in general, drains on society. There are very few people on either of these government programs who honestly need help, well  help other than a giant kick in the ass. Get a job, keep your job and stop having kids you obviously can't afford if you are already mooching off of those of us trying to do things the right way.