dailydiatribes

Ok, if you haven't figured out how politically incorrect I am by now, you are about to get a rude awakening.  Who is this stupid breast cancer lady anyway?  Why is she stopping in on my computer daily?  Does she ever sleep?  Get tired?  Have a bowel movement????

I refuse to believe that I am contributing to the rampant spread of breast cancer by not forwarding her on.  I don't know if you know the email to which I am referring, but the subject line is usually something like "Now she's in Toledo, keep her going...."  Well, hell, let her ass stay in Toledo and quit mucking up my computer with her!!

Breast cancer existed before computers.  Who walked around the world before the internet?  Was that one of Carmen San Diego's sidelines??  "In between episodes of her popular children's show, Carmen can be found traisping the world to end breast cancer....she's in Lima right now, keep her going!!" 

I have enough to worry about right now, what with the Arabs wanting to control our ports, mudslides, tsunamis, and my own personal religious war (fatwah on FR anyone???)  The last thing I need is to be guilted into forwarding the breast cancer lady to Evansville so that she can keep on tromping for a cure.  Can I just make a donation to the cancer society and leave it at that???

So I am driving home from Abby's basketball game today, which was played in the bustling burg of Adamsville Alabama.  Where, you may ask, is Adamsville precisely located?  I would have to say somewhere to the north of BFE, but not quite out into the wastelands of despair!  Seriously, it wasn't that bad, but it was a pretty good haul out there.

It is always good to visit another city and check out the local restaurant scene.  On my way to the game, I was so busy trying to not miss the ramp (which of course I missed and had to circle back anyway) that I did not take the time to read the signs. 

On the way home however, I had ample time to peruse the various restaurant signs.  Imagine my great pleasure in seeing a Chinese restaurant sign.  The top part of the sign said something along the lines of "China King, Chinese Cuisine and Seafood Restaurant."  Very nice, very appropriate name.

Attached to the sign was another sign:  we offer pet grooming and boarding.  Hmmmm, interesting how these two businesses go hand in hand.  One can speculate many things, the most obvious being that the meat for the entrees is home grown.  When you take your chihuahua in to be groomed, don't say you want him skinned, cause they will take you literally!!  They ought to add a slogan, like "there is more than one way to skin a cat and we know them all!" 

If you decide to stop and check it out, maybe you should avoid daily specials like shar pei lo mein or Kung pao poodle noodles.  Do not try the Happy Family Cat combo or the Pekingnese duck. 

So my advice is, if you find yourself passing through Forestdale, do not let your pet off a leash and do not, under any circumstances, eat Chinese food!!! 

Blearily rose I from my bed of pain to pen this missive to my four admirers, knowing how you rely upon my daily ponderings to uplift your day (not that you couldn't get the same &#*(&) from a fortune cookie, but whatever!)

The foul spirits that have been inhabiting my body came out in a rush this a.m. as I leaned over the toilet, spewing up my guts.  I do not throw up gracefully, and by the time it was all over, it looked like a rubber chicken had exploded in the microwave.

I have spent the remainder of my day in bed, nibbling crackers and plotting the downfall of my mortal enemy, who shall remain nameless in this blog, except by the initial E.B.  From the class mammalia, phylum rodentia, or vice versa.  I did not do well in biology, my main purpose in school being to learn as many big words as possible so that I could fool people into thinking that I am much smarter than I am.

Alas, I have come up with no workable plan to overthrow the evil one, other than the obvious tacks in the chair, glue on the doorknobs, and that kind of thing.  I am considering seeking out my father's tribe and petitioning their shaman for help.  Perhaps the copious application of squirrel feces to her office door, while a chicken bone is waved and incantations are sung will drive her away.  I will pursue this as my health allows.

Those of you thinking, perhaps, that I am on f##ing drugs are incorrect, because part of the problem is I did not take my Lexapro today, fearing the demons would cast it out.  So see, this whole thing was generated in a completely unmedicated state.  And if that doesn't scare you, nothing will.

Ciao for now,
J

I seem to be the only person watching the olympics this year.  When I was kid, I didn't care about them at all and it seemed like everyone else watched every single second of the coverage.  Now, I guess with so many other highbrow choices like American Idol and the home shopping network, the Olympics have fallen out of favor.

Which is a shame, because now I can actually converse about the various Olympians.  The speed skaters are hilarious.  Chad Hedrick has teeth like a white picket fence and the cutest lil ol' Texas drawl you ever heard!  But he DOES NOT like his teammate, Shani Davis, who was the first African American to win an individual gold in the winter olympics (don't think that won't ever come up as a jeopardy question!!!)  I watched an interview with Shani after he won his gold.  It went something like this:

Interviewer:  Shani, how does it feel to win the gold?

Shani:  Good

I:  Is this a dream come true

S:  Yes

I:  What were you thinking as you finished the race

S:  That it was almost over

I:  Did you win this for your mother?

S:  Yeah

I:  Are you angry?

S:  No (in a monotone) I'm very happy

It was a very strange interview for someone who just made olympic history.  You would have thought he would have planted an Adrian Brody kind of kiss on the interviewer, but he just didn't have a whole lot to say.

The Italian Ice Dancers were hysterical.  He dropped her during the Original Dance right at the end.  She did not speak to him at all until after the long program.  They showed them backstage, stomping around, ignoring each other, glaring at each other, etc.  After it was over, they made up and then he cried.  And they lost anyway. 

Tonight is the women's skating and I can hardly wait, not that anything can ever top Tonya Harding whacking Nancy Kerrigan in the knee. 

So tune in tonight and watch.

The preceding remarks were paid for by NBC.

Sorry I have slacked off for a couple of days.  Life has been kind of hectic.

Let me begin by adding to my rules:

1a.  I am rarely ever serious, so if I am discussing the exorcism of my child, it's a joke!!

2b.  If you have stumbled onto my blog and you do not know me, I am very sorry for you. If you knew me, you would know that I am not mentally unstable, just terminally sarcastic.

3c.  If you stumble on this blog and must comment, remember, this is a family friendly blog, sanctioned by Dr. James Dobson's Focus on the Family (not really, I made up that last part!!)  So no profanity please!!

Now, on to my story.  I was turning off the interstate today and lo, who should be in front of me, but my good friend Kristie.  I immediately dialed her cell phone number and maneuvered my gas sucking Suburban into position alongside her. As we were making faces at each other, while I was driving at high speed, I dropped my cell phone into a glass of coke!  Oooops.

So I had to cut in front of her, so I could fish the cell phone out of the soda (it was diet, in case you wanted to know that.)   I showed the phone to my good friend Chuck, who is really nice despite his political affilitation. 

I sort of lied to him and told him I dropped it in some water, but he opened it up and immediately said "this is coke".  I told him no, it was diet coke, but apparently it doesn't make a difference whether they use Nutrasweet or sugar, it's still corrosive!  Republicans are remarkably sharp this way, always trying to catch pathetic liberals when they are trying to stretch the truth to avoid trouble. 

So anyway, I have to get a new phone now.  So don't try my cell phone tomorrow, because you will just get a gurgling sound!!
Ciao!
J

I would like to touch on the topic of demon possession.  Today I was able to verify what I have long suspected, namely that my youngest child is possessed by some sort of demon, possibly by legions.

I have often tried to catch her in the act of levitating above the bed, but I never quite seem to get in there in time.  But I suspect she can.  I also have reason to believe that she can, indeed turn her head all the way around.  I have witnessed this in the morning, when I try to brush her hair.  She also speaks in tongues during the morning hair ritual.  I also speak in tongues, but since this blog is PG, I will not repeat some of my phraseology.

But today was the clincher.  Today was an awful morning.  My older children were horrible and nasty to one another.  What, you may ask gentle reader, makes this different from every other morning?  The spirit of PMS has come upon me, rendering me unable to cope with their nastiness.

So I decided we would all say a rosary together.  I have done this before with success.  Usually, the act of reciting the prayers calms them and we are feeling better by the time we get to school.  But not this morning, oh no.  Because Reagan was with us, in the body of Anna Charlotte.

For the first Hail Mary, she was ok.  But by the second one, she was screaming "stop saying that" in a very shrill tone, almost as if it pained the demon to hear the very words.  By the 4th one, she was in hysterics and screaming for us to stop.  She did this from Valleydale, ALL the way to OLV. 

In between decades I would scream at her "to knock it off before I hurt you" and the ever popular "I'll give you something to cry about".  This is very conducive to establishing a deep, spiritual bond with the mother of our Savior who probably never said "One more word mister and you'll be full of something and it ain't grace!!"

So anyway, I am going to try to get an appointment for Anna to see if we can perform some sort of ritual cleansing.  Or maybe I'll just start using duct tape on her mouth during the ride to school!!
Ciao,
J

I am too tired to think of a topic tonight.  I could continue taking potshots at Dick Cheney....ooh, no pun intended...but the Republican rabble gets a bit defensive.  I mean, Whittington brought it on himself.  How dare he walk up and not announce his presence with a bullhorn?  Cheney had every right to blow him away. And that heart attack has everything to do with a diet low in antioxidants and fiber and is not at all related to the buckshot Brother Dick pumped into the poor guy. 

But enough about that.  I have a question for all you God fearing Baptists out there.  I know Baptists have a superiority complex.  I drive by the Valleydale monstrosity every day and believe me, bigger is better!!  What I want to know is why you can drive into any town and see a First Baptist church, but not a Second or Third Baptist church.  Why does someone have to be First?  Does it have anything to do with who makes the best fried chicken?  Or is it simply a matter of who gets there first?

You don't see Catholics trying to establish superiority in town.  We don't have the First Catholic Church of St. Peter or anything like that.  We go for cool names, like Our Lady of Perpetual Dyspepsia and St. Bernard the Burned Up Martyr Catholic Church.  There ain't no first and second and third nonsense.  Can anyone provide a good explanation for this?

I did not use the treadmill today, clothed or naked.  I was not home all day.  I may attempt another run tomorrow, but I am moving the chandelier first, since I tried to take it down with my flailing arms yesterday!!

Good Night!!
J

I got a treadmill for Christmas!  My blood pressure has been up and I have been nagging for two years to get a treadmill, so Tim cashed in some of his frequent flyer points to buy me one.

It came in mid December.

He put it together yesterday.  I could have died, oh, 5 or 6 times, by the time he got around to it, but he was too busy getting my life insurance policies in order to care.

So today, he finally moved it to a place where I can use it.  He then proceeded to give me detailed instructions on operation.  The first thing he demonstrated was the emergency cut off thingy....you clip this thing to your shirt, and the other piece is placed on the control panel. If you fall, it yanks off the control panel and the machine stops instantly.

So I climbed on for my maiden voyage.  Tim, the ass, told me not to kill myself.  Ah, how well he knows me!

I began the preprogrammed warm up, which is at 2 miles per hour.  Within 90 seconds, my pulse had shot up to 120 (Renee, if you're reading this, when do I need to start worrying???)

But the imminent heart attack turned out to be the least of my worries.  Those of you who know me well know that I am very hot natured.  I was wearing a sweatshirt.  This became a problem quickly. 

So I had the rather brilliant (I thought) notion to clip the thingy to my tshirt and take my sweatshirt off.  While I was still moving of course.  You don't really think I would stop the machine to disrobe, do you??

Well, I am sure your imagination can supply the rest.  As I went to remove my sweatshirt, I slowed down, lost my balance and shot off the back of the treadmill at 5 mph. 

I have to say, though, the machine did stop instantly.  I am so glad I verified that the emergency cut off is working!  This is very good to know in case I need to change my underwear during a work out!

Better to die with a Democrat than be disfigured by a Republican!!!