I am deeply saddened by the news this morning that the most rude, crude, and hilariously funny comedian passed away last night at 5:55pm.  I may only be 25, but I have for years collected every piece of material this man put out.  I have laughed out loud while reading his books, thus making passersby think I was nuts.  When they looked at me funny, I just quoted what made me cackle.  I made t-shirts when the election started that read in big, bold letters “VOTE GEORGE CARLIN FOR PRESIDENT”.  I have just about every movie he was in, even if it was so much as a cameo.  He was a legend.  He was my legend.  My dream of one day watching him perform live died last night.  My heart is broken.  I am trying to control damaged feelings and not cry, because I feel ridiculous crying over someone I never met.  My eyes never met him, but my mind was enriched by the words he spoke, and my heart knew every aspect of who he was. A genius in his own right, a legend, I say.  Someone once said that legends never die…they were right.  George Denis Carlin will forever live in my feisty attitude, my fiery heart, and my fierce play of words. XOXO

For Father’s Day (because Bildo doesn’t care what month it falls in) the daughter is putting together photos of boobs from all her big boobed friends. I suspect she’s recruiting them from off the street, too.

Shit.

This’ll be fun.

Oops, wrong title.
I mistook her for a buck-toothed cow.

Ever seen an ass up close?
Co-workers often resemble asses. Have you noticed?
Usually female, blonde, a bit long in the tooth and stoopid. Have to whack ‘em across the forehead with a two-by-four to get their attention, and they’re mean as hell.

She doth remind me of the “Princess and The Teeth”.

ONCE upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry an ass; but she would have to be a real ass. He looked all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were asses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real ass.
One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.
It was an ass standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious, what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look! The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real ass.
“Well, we’ll soon find that out,” thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bedroom, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid huge teeth on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the teeth, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.
On this the ass had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.
“Oh, very badly!” said she. “I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something hard, so that I am black and blue all over my body. It’s horrible!”
Now they knew that she was a real ass because she had felt the teeth right through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eider-down beds.
Nobody but a real ass could be as sensitive as that.
So the prince took her for his Royal Ass, for now he knew that he had a real ass; and the teeth were put in the museum, where they may still be seen, if no one has stolen them.

(Dedicated to Bildo, who puts up with the toothy Royal Ass on a daily basis.)

1. Are you a thief?
2. Do you have a functioning brian brain?
3. Do you require more than 40 hours per work week personal time off?
4. How often must your significant other report to his/her parole/probation officer? Do they have their own transportation, or must you drive him/her?
5. Are you capable of staying awake?
6. Are you punctual? By this I mean are you prepared to be here by noon, at the very least?
7. Are you taking your children’s ADHD drugs yourself?
8. Do you and your cell phone have an on-going love affair?
9. If you smoke, are you prepared to limit your smoke breaks to say… 10 a day?
10. I’m the friggin’ boss……
Ya dig??

While I was doing laundry earlier today I was thinking hard what to post about this evening, but as usual couldn’t think of any real wisdom to impart. So I decided to dig through some old archived stuff from 2002. Guess what? It’s all on that shitty little laptop hard drive that took 14 dumps last year and finally crapped out when I showed it a picture of what a real computer looks like.

Looking waaaay back on the Wayback Machine for some of my reaaaally old material, I came across this salacious link. I have to say the irresistible thrust murdered at once my maidenhead, and very nearly me. You simply must try it and see if it doesn’t warm your nether regions, too. Don’t forget to see the Instant Sexual Karma if you can tear yourself away from all that Victorian generatin’.

I’m sure you’ll appreciate knowing Victorian women used bees for sex. I know I personally couldn’t wait to read all about that.
Kinda gives new meaning to having a bug on one’s begonia.

In another find, it seems some redneck legislators in Tennessee were looking to outlaw a girl’s best friend by passing a law against dildos.
“any three-dimensional device designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of human genital organs….”

Fine.
I still have my trusty turkey baster.

Couldn’t decide which of these was funnier, so you get two.
And I get to sit here with my beer and laugh my ass off.
Again.

Thanks to my husband and his sick, sick side for sending me these. :P

YerMama’s post about Dexter got me thinking I really should try to give Dickhead a bath. My younger son always bathed him without too much fuss, but each time I try to do it myself I find seeing my own blood helps my disposition not. So, with the help of Google, I think I may have found the answer. :P

Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk - dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away.

I’ve spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I’ve been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace.

The time comes, however, when a woman must face reality: when she must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: “This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez.”

When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub:

– Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don’t try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.)

– Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket.

– Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water.

– Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.) — Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life. Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He’ll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don’t expect too much.)

– Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That’s because by now the cat is semipermanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat.

In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine.

You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn’t usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath.

But at least now he smells a lot better.

Shame I missed this for Valentine’s Day, but there’s always Father’s Day. ;-)

I never told you about the time my ex-husband came home from work to say, “Hmmmm, something smells gooood, what are we having tonight?”
Watching him looking at the blue granite roasting pot on top of the stove with the most wistful expression on his face was one of the better highlights in my failed marriage of twelve years.

“What time we gonna eat?”

“In about an hour.”

“Damn, that smells so good, can’t I just taste it?”

“Sure! But it’s hot as hell.”

“I love your cooking, honey; I can’t wait!”, as he rustles through his underwear drawer.

“Where’s my shorts? All my shorts are gone!”

“Hey, I’ve cooled this off enough for you to have a taste.”

I know women don’t boil their whites in a pot full of Clorox anymore, but do it just one time and you’ll remember it forever.

When you read this story, you’ll wonder just who has the hearing problem.

My neighbor found out her dog could hardly hear so she took it to the veterinarian.

He found the problem was hair in it’s ears and cleaned both ears and the dog could hear fine.

The vet told the lady if she wanted to keep this from reoccurring she should go to the store and get some Nair hair remover and rub in its ears once a month.

Off she goes to the pharmacy for the Nair.

At the register the druggist tells her, “If you’re going to use this under your arms don’t use deodorant for a few days.”

The lady says, “I’m not using it under my arms.”

The druggist said, “If you’re using it on your legs don’t shave for a couple of days.”

The lady replied, “I’m not using it on my legs, either. If you must know I’m using it on my schnauzer.”

The druggist said, “Then stay off your bicycle for a week.”