Explicitly Ambiguous

Read this today and thought that’s the damned truth.

Hillary’s Voice

The thought of having to listen to that harpy voice for years would be enough to make me consider sticking a knitting needle in my right ear! Ugh!

This is why women should not take men shopping against their will.

After Mr. and Mrs. Fenton retired, Mrs. Fenton insisted her husband accompany her on her trips to Walmart. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton was like most men–he found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunately, Mrs.. Fenton was like most women-she loved to browse. One day Mrs. Fenton received the following letter from her local Walmart.

Dear Mrs. Fenton,

Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them In people’s carts when they weren’t looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women’s restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an Official voice, Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away.”

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M’s on layaway.

6. September 14: Moved a “CAUTION - WET FLOOR” sign to a carpeted area.

7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he’d invite them in if they would bring pillows
and blankets from the bedding department.

8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, “Why can’t you people just leave me
alone?”

9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.

10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the “Mission Impossible” theme.

12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his “Madonna look, “by using different sizes of funnels.

13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled “PICK ME! PICK ME!”

14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed “OH NO! IT’S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!”

And last, but not least….

15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, Waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, “Hey! There’s no toilet paper in
here.

A couple had only been married for two weeks and the husband, although very much in love, couldn’t wait to go out on the town and party with his old buddies.

So, he said to his new wife, “Honey, I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going, Coochy Coo?” asked the wife.

“I’m going to the bar, Pretty Face,” he answered. I’m going to have a beer.”

The wife said, “You want a beer, my love?” She opened the door to the refrigerator and showed him 25 different kinds of beer,
brands from 12 different countries: Germany, Holland, Japan, India, etc.

The husband didn’t know what to do, and the only thing that he could think of saying was, “Yes, Lollipop… but at the bar…
You know… they have frozen glasses… ”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because the wife interrupted him by saying, “You want a frozen glass, Puppy Face?”

She took a huge beer mug out of the freezer, so frozen that she was getting chills just holding it.

The husband, looking a bit pale, said, “Yes, Tootsie Roll, but at the bar they have those hors d’oeuvres that are really delicious…. I won’t be long. I’ll be right back. I promise. OK?”

“You want hors d’oeuvres, Poochie Pooh?” She opened the oven and took out 5 dishes of different hors d’oeuvres: chicken
wings, pigs in blankets, mushroom caps, and little quiches.

“But my sweet honey… at the bar…. you know there’s swearing, dirty words and all that…”

“You want dirty words, Cutie Pie?

LISTEN UP CHICKEN SHIT! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN, SHUT THE HELL UP, DRINK YOUR BEER IN YOUR FROZEN MUG AND EAT YOUR
HORS D’OEUVRES BECAUSE YOUR MARRIED ASS ISN’T GOING TO A DAMNED BAR! THAT CRAP IS OVER, GOT IT, JACKASS?”

and…they lived happily ever after. Isn’t this a sweet story?

The Junk Science site has created what they call their GREENer Pledge (Link is to the PDF file).

Personal favorites:

Reduce global methane emissions by eating more farm animals

and

Lobby Congress to fund flying carpet research to replace jet travel

Fluorescent Light Bulbs Can Become ‘Toxic Time Bombs’

Last night the phone rang and when I said hello a female voice fumbled around and started babbling in reply. I’m a nice person so I figured she had the wrong number and didn’t know what to say. I waited patiently until she got her mental bearings.

Sometimes I’m too nice…

My mouth dropped open in shock as she started telling me how I had stolen her man, that she had found this number in his pocket, and that I should “let him go”. Her voice rose and fell in volume as she spoke. She was drunk.

I was so shocked that I said that wasn’t so, that I was married… thinking that the sodden idiot would shut up realizing she had the wrong damned number.

I was wrong.

She warbled that I had stolen her man, that I was fucking her man, and that I was married to her man.

Wrong thing to say… to a child of divorce due to infidelity.

Anger flashed through me.

I interrupted her drunken diatribe to inform her that she should get a life of her own instead of destroying someone elses.

I then hung up on the drunken cow.

The moron had been so drunk that she obviously dialed the wrong damned number and proceeded to tell a fucking stranger her life story. Richard and I laughed about it later. I told him I could just imagine the moron telling her drinking buddy that she had “told that bitch to back off”. Yeah, right! lol

Let this be a lesson… drunks should not only not drive… they also shouldn’t dial.

“The Sims” to move from PC screen to silver screen

I have played both versions of the game, Sims 1 and now Sims 2, and I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to believe they can translate the game to the big screen. We’re talking about a game where the player tells the Sim when to go to the bathroom, when to cook, to eat, to shower, to sleep, and when to have sex. I will admit that there are some hollywood actors and actresses that I wouldn’t mind seeing stranded in a pool without a ladder or built into a small room without a door or window.

Most players don’t play the game as you’re supposed to play it. Most of us love to build (I built a neighborhood of Frank Lloyd Wright homes) , decorate, or create more addons to the game. It’s not realistic. Unless you hack the game you don’t see nude sims… the naughty bits are blurred out… which might be a good thing in a hollywood movie. lol

I think some hollywood dumbass saw all of the movies people are making with Sims 2 and got the bright idea of making a real movie out of it. Then again they most likely saw the sales numbers of the game and thought they’d have a willing group of gamers who would see their movie.

I have blown around $600 or more on this freakin game and I wouldn’t go see a movie based on it.

Saw this on Newsbusters and it cracked me up.

Evidently FoxNews was a tad afraid of saying the name of the book (Intercourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook) or showing the cover. I’ve always thought the cover was very nice and you can see it if you click the name of the book in this post. The woman has what looks to be white body paint applied and she’s discreetly covered in strawberries. The images for each food section are done in the same style. It’s not porn… good lord! lol

We have tried one of the recipes… one for french toast. It didn’t make us run for the bedroom but it nearly made us run for the phone to call the dentist. Ye gods I’ve never had french toast that sweet or rich. It was very good but DAMN! lol

In his case that means medicine for his skin. Creams, etc. Unfortunately I’d forgotten buying a new tube of hydrocortisone cream and sticking it in something that I put pens in on the back of my desk. He knows it’s no mans land but evidently curiosity got the best of him.

Like I’ve said before I haven’t been sleeping with this fucking cold. I found out tonight that I CAN sleep sitting upright on the fucking couch. I fell asleep without meaning to and the kid went into his Dr. Ben Casey routine. He woke me up saying something was wrong. I nearly fell off the damned couch. I noticed his pants looked funny. They were almost shiny at the hems. He had spread over half of the tube of cream on his feet and legs. He said he was sorry so I tried not to get too upset. I got the pine tar soap and cleaned his feet and legs while explaining to him that this was the reason that *I* do all of the skin medicating.

I warned him that if he’d managed to find (he won’t… it’s put up where he can’t get hold of it) my capsazin cream and applied it to his feet and legs that he’d have been screaming and crying from the pain. Hell, I don’t use it unless I absolutely have to… almost did last week but remembered the pain of swollen lips and eyes and decided to live with the pain instead.

Anyway I think he understands now why I’m Dr. Mom and he’s the patient.

Richard’s off tomorrow through Tuesday and he’s told me to take it easy so I can get over this crap.

Think I’ll spend Sunday in bed covered in Vicks and try to sleep until this shit is over.

Geek, car, and english and this post is an example of what happens when the “car” branch of the family (the males) don’t speak english.

On Thanksgiving I worked my ass off and everyone seemed to enjoy their food. I was exhausted after having worked all day on it and having stayed up all night the night of the 22nd. I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep. Dreading going to Walmart I suppose. It was bad. Real bad. And the Tempo had to have one last little fit before she “retired”.

My Aunt and Uncle brought the car down we’re buying from them. It’s a pretty little thing. White exterior with a medium grey exterior. 96 Pontiac Grand Am. Well taken care of. The engine had been replaced and around $1000 dollars of work had been done on it last year including replacing the electronic computererized whatever it is. The windows don’t roll down… need to have them fixed, but the heater and air worked great. Joshua’s reaction was ooohhh nice when he saw it. lol

Anyway my Aunt and I went to the convenience store that’s right outside the apt complex so she could get some cash. I drove. When we got back I couldn’t get the damned key out of the ignition. You have to understand my driving that car after driving the 90 Tempo was like dropping a caveman into an F-16. There were times while driving the Tempo that I thought I was going to have to do a Fred Flinstone and put my feet through the floor to keep the bitch moving. It wasn’t delicate. At times I had to be rough. After an hour of everyone trying to “teach” me how to drive and stop the car they found out that a penny had been dropped down into the shifter. They got it out and I tried again. I still couldn’t get it to work. I had been told various things by my Uncle and Brother over the past hour. Such as “you’re bringing it in under too big a load”… WTF does that mean?!?! Or “push the shifter all the way to the front”.. okkkkkayy. So I “lightened the load” and tried to push the shifter into the next fucking state. You see I speak english. I don’t speak “car”. I knew that park was at the front of the shifter. I’m not an idiot. They were telling me, at least to a person who doesn’t speak “car”, to push it up as far as I could. So I did. Then they told me to “jiggle” the shifter before I tried to remove the key. So I “jiggled”. That worked. Everyone was happy. They left and I actually got to take a nap and sleep later that night.

The next day Richard and I decided to take Joshua out for a short spin around the apt complex. We didn’t go anywhere else because oddly enough the tag agencies decided to ALL take the weekend off and we can’t get tags until Monday. We aren’t going anywhere until it’s tagged because there are three cops in this interior little suburb of OKC and we know that as soon as I took it out of the complex one of them would be on my ass in a New York minute. They don’t have that much to do I guess… anyway on with my tale. I drove it around the complex. Joshua oooo’d and aaaaah’d. He was very impressed. I decided to attempt to stop it and take the key out. I took a deep breath…. and did it. Without jiggling the shifter. I went on instinct and it worked fine. Both times. It helped to have actually slept and not having the male contingent of my family hanging over me like a vulture waiting for a lion to die on the savannah. Bless their hearts but thats what happens when they don’t speak english or geek to me. Geek I understand. There were a few times that day that I wanted to tell them to FOAD. I was not LOL’ing, ROFL’ing, or anything else. I was not having a good time. My heat sink and fan were overheating and I needed time to relax. After rebooting I was able to do what needed to be done. After being married to Richard, a geek, for 8 years I have lost the ability to speak “car”. My family used to own a car body shop so I could understand some of it. Not so much now.

The next time the male contingent of my family start talking to me in “car” I’m going to hold up a sign that says…

No habla car… then again they probably won’t understand what THAT means.