Sunday, April 28, 2013


I make out with my cat, Tigger, every day (at least that's what I call it). And by "make out", I mean, I cuddle and snuggle and hold him in my arms. There are those out there though that take making out with their animals to a whole new level.

I just watched one of the Real Housewives of Atlanta TONGUE. KISS. HER. DOG!!! That mixed with my previous post about the nasty hooker tongue kissing her cat during a commercial for a new God awful TV series makes me wonder when bestiality became acceptable? AND.... how far is it going to go???

Excuse me while I vomit...


I am completely, psychologically blah today.

After seeing so many doctors and their varying diagnosis for this and for that, Mike and I just blame everything on migraines now. For instance, last night I had a long, long M.S. flare migraine, followed by a sinus/face migraine, and ending with an I took too much migraine medicine for my various migraines yesterday...ending in an ulcer migraine. And all day I've had a too low blood pressure, feel like I'm going to fall on my face every time I stand up migraine.

Migraines are very prolific, you know. They're a modern day plague...

Friday, April 26, 2013

Big & Tall

WARNING - this blog is going to have a lot of posts about cats.

The picture below is of my 6'4" husband, Mike, and my beloved but humongous cat, Tigger.

And, here is Mike and wide Tigger.

I have to add that during this photo shoot, Mike asked me to please hurry because Tigger's girth was making his arms shake.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


This rant has everything to do with "HOMELESS" people and I don't really give a damn if it pisses anyone off.

I feel like me and my family have been blessed, in probably countless ways, but pertaining to this post I'm referring to the blessings of a little bit of money, being generous, having a huge heart, and the ability to empathize with others. I like to help others, plain and simple (to the great annoyance of Mike, I might add). I have learned over the years to listen to that little voice within to tell me who I should help and how.

In our town it is getting more and more difficult to discern who is in actual need and who is a worthless, poor-picked-on-me, asshole that tag team with their piece of shit buddy, standing on opposite corners of every major intersection or freeway off ramp. (Actually, the "HOMELESS" assholes aren't all that difficult to figure out) These pricks of which I speak have now made their pathetic lack of self respect, and the tools of a piece of card board and a sharpie, their occupation. These are the "HOMELESS" PEOPLE THAT SUCK!

For instance, (and I wish I had a pic to insert here so you get the whole effect), there is an old woman that works the local Walmart like a hooker works a corner. Sometimes she has teeth, sometimes not. Sometimes she drags behind her a set of luggage on rollers (which I'm sure are empty). Sometimes her equally pathetic "co-worker" can be seen working the opposite side of the parking lot, sitting on a rascal scooter, each holding a similar sign - FALLED ON HARD TIMES GOD BLESS. Or - I IS A VET IN A TENT GOD BLESS. And she is ALWAYS there... winter, rain, hail storm or sunshine. Have you noticed how every sign ends in God bless? I wonder how God feels about being whored out like that???? RELAX... I'm not calling God a whore.

But then, every once in awhile, someone truly homeless and/or in need crosses paths with you and it feels AWESOME to be able to help provide what they are in need of, to shake their hand or give them a hug, to exchange names and sometimes phone numbers, or give them a ride somewhere.....and just treat them with dignity and respect. I'm not going to give examples of who and how I've helped here because I'm not trying to toot my own horn, so to speak. The point I'm trying to make is, there is a difference between the homeless and in need, and the "HOMELESS" cock suckers preying on people's emotions as a career.

I met a couple today that I KNOW I was supposed to stop and talk to and give some help. When I left however, I did not have the warm, fuzzy feeling that I usually get when I'm inspired to help. Instead, I left frustrated and a little disgusted. I like to see the "fruits of my labor", and in this case...I did not. I guess it's making me question my inner voice a little.

THAT'S CRAP! I KNOW I was supposed to talk to and give help to these two people. And even though I didn't get to see the "fruits of my labor" on this one, I know that somehow, someway I had a positive impact on Tracey and Michelle.

As for the "HOMELESS", it takes great restraint on my part not to just jerk the steering wheel and end a career or two or more.....

And there is no need to comment on this (unless you really want to), Mike and I are well aware that our state in the next life will be greeters in hell....just like at Chili's or Walmart. And our thought on that is this - THAT CLOSE TO THE GATES OF HELL.....WE CAN PROBABLY MAKE A RUN FOR IT.


Coming soon will be a story about my husband's complete inability to drive without RAGE....AT. ALL. And his absolute lack of direction...AT. ALL.

Ironically, my ability to drive may be coming to an end. It's ironic because I am an awesome driver, my rage isn't anywhere near the level of Mike's, and....I know my directions.

Mike, If you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would make a crap load more money so we could just hire a driver..... I think that's a reasonable request. xo

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Why I hate traveling...

Yesterday I left my happy home to fly thousands of miles to Nashville, TN, by way of ATL (Atlanta International Airport). I hate layovers, particularly when they overshoot my destination.  I really don't like layovers in ATL because so far I've been there 3 times and 2 out of those three have been crappy.  My first layover sucked because my first flight landed at ATL 30 minutes before my connection took off.  I was at terminal D.  My connection, of course, was at terminal A...on the other side of the complex.  I had to nearly run to make my flight.

My second layover in ATL sucked because I was there for 3 hours.  How's that for a layover?  Plenty of time to get to my connecting gate, unfortunately I had forgotten the cord to my laptop, which was nearly dead from meetings, so I couldn't work or play.  Instead I walked around the airport and got some food...for 3 hours.  Oh, this was also the return flight on the same trip as above.  Yeah, that trip sucked.

This time through ATL, it was fine, surprisingly. BNA (Nashville International Airport)...not so much.  I had a rental car reservation since I'm here for a few days (which in and of itself sucks as well) and the rental company, HERTZ, had NO cars.  I never heard why, just that it would require me waiting 30 - 60 minutes.  I waited over 90 before they gave me a crappy Nissan SUV, the Rogue.  It's one of those cars that's trying to be an SUV, and failing miserably.

So I got in my shoebox with a lift gate and no sooner had I left the airport then Sally the Hooker (our affectionate name for TeleNav GPS, Sprint's horrible, built-in GPS app) ignored the fact that I just typed in the address of my hotel and picked a random, past destination 500 miles away in Raleigh.  Fortunately, I figured this out fairly quickly but not before getting lost in the suburbs of Nashville, at night.  At one point I was so flustered that I turned left and headed the wrong way down a one way street.  It was at that point that I knew I should've taken a cab instead.

Getting to the meeting this morning was great.  I was supposed to follow some vendor contacts however they left before I could see where they went and GPS hadn't kicked in yet so I of course, a man who poses the innate navigational abilities of  a shovel, headed the wrong way.  GPS kicked in just in time to let me know that I, and my unfortunate co-worker\passenger, were screwed.

Aside from the fact that travleing takes me away from my wife, this is a good indication of why I hate it.


WARNING....the story I am about to tell is exceedingly disgusting (and hilarious)! Anyone with a weak stomach, STOP READING NOW.

According to which doctor you talk to, I have migraines, PTSD, Multiple Sclerosis, or crazy depression (only 2 of those are factual....and this is not the gross or funny part). Anyway, on this particular day, I was in a crazy, unrelenting amount of pain, extremely exhausted, and all I wanted was to curl up with my Tigger and try to sleep it off. All 3 of our cats had other plans. This is Tigger.

Moop, the first cat to join our family, bombed the litter box (I never understand how this happens....I mean, they eat the same damn thing every day). So, the stench thereof had to be addressed.

Next, Eddie, the third cat to join and terrorize our house (he makes 2 or 3 appearances in this story), left a cling on (piece of poop), on the darkened stairs down to my room. I, of course, discover the poop with Tigger in my arms and my bare right foot. I'll insert his pic here so you can accurately visualize the trouble maker that he is. And yes, he opened that cabinet himself and climbed in.

After I got the mess cleaned up, I curled up in bed with Tig to rest and feel better... Eddie had other plans. As I'm trying to fall asleep, I start to hear a strange noise and sat up to listen. After a minute I remembered that I left some magazines on the floor next to the recliner (this is where it starts to get funny in a gross sort of way), and I thought it was Eddie licking the magazines (he has a ridiculous paper fetish). So, I yelled at Eddie to knock it off. I lay back down, Tig in my arms, drifting off to sleep, and then I hear more noises... new noises. Again I sat up, listened, looked around in the dark, and I see Eddie on top of my dresser eating a beautiful arrangement of silk flowers I had in a vase. I started yelling, "EDDDDDIIIIEEEEE! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!", which he promptly did. (When it comes to Eddie I often find myself saying, "I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT I HATE YOU SO BAD!", over and over and over.

It starts to get really gross here. Apparently when Eddie left my room, he continued his badness upstairs and I began to get texts from my husband who was working upstairs in his office. The first text said something to the effect - What has this fucking cat (Eddie), been eating?! I text Mike about the flower and magazine incident and asked why....what happened? His response was that the little prick was puking piles in the hallway outside his office. Being the wonderful husband that he is, he cleaned up the piles of nastiness. Thanks, honey!

Still, the fun continued. Here comes the grossest part of the night. Finally, all was quiet, I was snuggled up under the covers, I had Tigger curled up in my arms, his little face resting on my to sleep we went. And then it beloved Tigger DROOLED. IN. MY. MOUTH!!!!!!!! I have never been so sicked out in my life! I simultaneously flung Tigger off me with my left arm while my right hand wiped and grabbed sheets to shove in my mouth, and I spit, and I gagged! Tigger, of course, was oblivious as to why he was suddenly flying in his sleep.

I ended the night with one last text to my husband that went something like this: ME - Tigger just drooled in my mouth and it is the grossest thing that has ever happened to me! MIKE - That is a visual I don't think will ever leave my mind.

I'll post one final pic of the demonic little beasts that live with us and whom we love so much but hate so bad.

Monday, April 22, 2013

No cars

Been waiting at the Hertz kiosk in the Nashville airport for an hour and a half, because they have no cars.  They told me it would be 30 to 60 minutes. They were wrong.


I just started a Twitter account and I have absolutely no idea why????  Here is the picture I posted as my profile pic

He is my beloved Tig-a-mah-jig (AKA Tigger), and given my current state of appearance (pj's, no bra, bead head, yesterday's makeup smeared down my face...I think I've painted the picture), I figured he was more appealing to look at. I am right though...on my best day, I am not anywhere nearly as wonderfully cute as he is. Were it not for this little guy (he's a behemoth, nearing 20lbs now), I'd probably see if I could rent a cage at the animal shelter til Mike got home from TN.

Bad things happen when my husband goes out of town on business. I warned him that when he gets back I may very well be a chain smoking, wino. His response to me was, "That's how I love ya... stinky and drunk".  What's more likely to happen is.... I'll stay in my pj's for a few days, maybe brush my teeth a few times, pace, eat large quantities of chocolate, go for a drive to see a baby donkey (still in pj's), pace, OH, I JUST REMEMBERED THE HEAVEN THAT IS ONLINE SHOPPING....I most certainly will do some of that! <insert wicked laughter

Husband, you've been gone about 4ish hours now and I miss you already, jerk (said with love and a frowny face). I love you.

I have lots of funny things to blog THE GROSSEST DAY OF MY LIFE....and, our 3 demonic cats, etc....  but I'm in a pokey lipped kinda mood and ya just can't rip off the funniest stories without the proper sentiment.

I think it may be time for a pill. I might be back for more tail tales when the meds kick in.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Using shipping cost to price an item

So I'm on ebay a lot, looking at action figures. Something that really annoys me is seeing an auction where the item price is very low, .99 cents or just a few dollars and the shipping is $10 or $15!  We get it, you want to at least get $15 for your item, so price it that way! These shipping whores suck and I usually won't consider their items because of it.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

It's a YIELD sign, not a STOP sign!

Have you ever been through a roundabout (circular intersection)?  They're posted with "yield" signs, which means as you approach the roundabout, you look at the traffic flow.  If there are no cars coming around at you, then keep moving.  If there's a car directly in your path or will be by the time you enter the roundabout, then you stop and wait for it to pass.  Simple enough, right?  Apparently not.  No matter how many times I have to go through one of these intersections, I invariably get stuck behind someone who treats the yield sign as a stop sign.  In my head, and sometimes out loud, I find myself instructing these people that they need to keep moving.  They never do.

Here's a quick cheat sheet:

If the sign says YIELD, don't STOP!
If the sign isn't a red octagon with the word STOP printed on it, DON'T STOP!
If you're approaching a roundabout...anywhere..ever..and there is no traffic in said roundabout..


I should have the right to ram anyone who does this....

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


I FEEL LIKE HELL!  Be it from M.S., PTSD, migraines, or my crazy depression, I don't care... someone shoot me in the face please. Wait! Not the face...I think I'd like an open casket.



Just when you thought the donkey show in Mexico was as gross as it gets (and it still is), along comes a televised competitor. The ad reads SPOILED PETS OR ANIMALS OR SOMETHING TO THAT EFFECT. And the ad depicts all the stupid things people do to humiliate their pets and make themselves look like complete asses. Then at one point the commercial shows a nasty hooker TONGUE KISSING HER CAT!!

I'm pretty sure Cat Protective Services need to be contacted.

Monday, April 15, 2013


Both Mike and I are hopeless addicts...over the years to many things. We've each had one constant through it all; Mike is hopelessly addicted to toys (more specifically, collectible action figures), and me? Well I am a sucker for rocks and minerals. I am obsessed with gem stones, agates, quartz, conglomerates, septarian, and so on.

We enable each other fairly effectively. His is an expensive addiction, mine is mostly just back breaking work. That last statement is funny because it's true.....I really did break my back rock hunting. The pain is worth it, I LOVE treasure hunting!

We'd love to talk to other addicts out there....


When cleaning up a big, nasty, creepy, crawly, disgusting spider off a white furry rug, whether the horrible thing is dead or alive, it WILL leave a bloody, leg spewn, crime scene like mess that requires tissue, Clorox wipes, AND a comb (for the legs, of course), for complete removal. So gross.

There.... I have done my good deed for the day and shared my wealth of knowledge on the matter, whereby sparing another from having to face the ordeal without prior instructions.

You are welcome.

Thank you honey, for cleaning it up.

Thursday, April 11, 2013


Lesson learned today? Life is much better when I remember to take my meds consistently and EVERY day. TODAY SUCKED!!!


My husband, Mike, works remotely (that means he works from home, for anyone who didn't already know what that meant). Anyway, I went into his office and he was on a conference call, which he muted so we could talk. I had our smallest, but by far the most hateful of our three cats on my lap when Mike said that there is a man on the call that sounded like he was from the Islands man.

Based on this information, and in an attempt to entertain him, I started singing Calypso music while making our furry ball of hatred do the hoola dance. Now, DAYLIGHT COME AND ME WANNA GO HOME is stuck in my is a vision of Moop (the cat), dancing in a coconut bikini and grass skirt.

I'm not sure how much I entertained Mike but.....I'm much happier now. As for the cat, well....she's always pissed off anyway.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

TFC Toys

Today I became aware of the coolest thing to happen to Transformers since they were created.  TFC Toys, a company in China (as I understand it) has been working on repaints and upgraded designs of various Transformers.  I first saw them on Big Bad Toy Store and didn't know anything about them.  I saw them again while poking around for action figures and found their S.G. Perseus model, which is essentially a repaint of Devastator, the most awesome of all Decepticon gestalts.

I have the original Devastator and it pales in comparison to what TFC Toys is doing.  What they're doing is exactly what I wish the Transformers had been back in the 80's.  I always wanted to be able to move the arms and legs and pose Devastator.  Now I can..and can't.  I can in that the toys exist, and I can't because a full set costs $600!!  Hell no.

Still, their toys are undeniably awesome.


I love action figures, particularly Marvel and DC figures.  The more articulated, the better.  Lately I've been spending a lot of time on Ebay looking at various auctions. I even recently won a 12" Cyborg Superman.

Problem is..I want more.  There are so many action figures out there and I can't buy them all.  Never mind the fact I have little space to work with here. I just saw an auction for 5 different Hulk's...$75! Ugh...too expensive.  SDCC exclusive 19" Galactus? $300! Understandable, but no thanks.

I need more money.


I have been blessed with the awesome gift of being able to out burp every man I know. As repulsive as some may find my ability to expel gas, my husband, Mike, is ever ready to take credit when it happens to me in public. I, on the other hand, am not willing to take the blame for his crop dusting explosions at the grocery store. He is gentlemanly enough though to warn me when this happens by telling me very calmly to walk....JUST KEEP WALKING!


Is it strange that because I blogged today (several times), I have this major sense of accomplishment?

I blog...therefore, I am.


My husband is not amused that I am blogging about the fact that my hooha is broken (wounded). He is completely responsible for said owie, and is totally unrepentant for my injury. I was warned I am not to discuss the incident.

And in other news.... my daughter (20 yrs old), hates to witness ANY affection between my husband and I, or ANY sexual conversation.  This of course is now a major source of amusement for us to torture her with. She, on the other hand, is not immune from participating in questionable conversation. For instance, as she and he were on their way to pick up dinner, their conversation took an interesting turn to werewolves and how werewolves have sex. The answer is obviously doggy style but....... AND I'M BEING TOLD WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT TALK ABOUT?! Really... the sickness just runs in the family.

I'm sure my censorship list will grow and grow. I will share as it happens.


SO... I have a major girl crush on Jenny Lawson, "THE BLOGGESS"! I am reading her book, LET'S PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED. To Jenny I say, THANK YOU. You have both inspired and unleashed two funny, irreverent, mentally unwell (at least one of us is, anyway), opinionated, intolerant, and mouthy demons.... hence the birth, or rather rebirth, of this blog. Many hilarious stories, rants, posts, and pics to follow.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Ever read a Facebook post a page you've "Liked", or an item review, or an article and find yourself sucked into the inane and useless comments of other readers?  I can't stand the comments sections of pretty much everything.  For the most part, I try not to read them.  I do on occasion look and inevitably, invariably hate myself for doing it.  Typos, grammar mistakes, people thinking they're funny when they're not...these and other horrors abound when the public at large is allowed to comment.

As if online comments weren't bad enough online, some programs have also incorporated them into the show.  They'll have a header or footer streaming the useless thoughts of fans. They're never good.  They're never informative.  They're taking up screen space from the rest of the program.  I loathe the practice as a whole.

Here's a good example of the problem.  I subscribe to post from Marvel, the comic book company.  They recently asked the question, "What would you serve Galactus for dinner?".  Here are some of the mental gems that people felt needed to be puked on the internet, and my inner response:

"Uranus for lols" -- Are you 5?

"A few Earthwings ..." -- What the hell is an Earthwing?  You have a computer, therefore you have access to spell check.
"Better b something good & filling or planet Earth will b next!!! lol!!!" -- Just...die.

This isn't to say that anyone reading and feeling the urge to comment isn't welcome to do so.  Simply keep in mind that if you come across as a vapid dumbass, I'll probably let you know, or I'll just delete your post.

First post

The first post annoys me.  I'm the type who wonders if the post should be about us, about the blog, somehow significant, etc.  Turns out, I really don't care. I only want this post out of the way so more posts may be written.

Mission accomplished.