Category Archives: You’re killing me…

Michael Vick was making $35,000 a year as a shop mechanic before serving a prison term after he was found guilty for torturing dogs. After serving his time, another mechanic’s shop hired him.

No one in the community, much less the nation, batted an eyelash. Not so True story.

So is everyone in a tizzy over his reinstatement into the NFL because instead of only making $35K, Vick stands to make $1.6 million? Or is it because we are under some false impression that pro-athletes need to be pillars of inspiration to the community and its children?

I’m usually the first to throw any nutless, animal abusing, asshole under the bus, but I’m not sure why – out of the obscene number of wife-beaters, drunk-drivers and petty-larceners – anyone is depleting their reserves of indignant anger on this inhuman waste of space.

OCTOPUSSY

I would like to officially thank Nadya Suleman and her “doctor” for giving reproductive endocrinology, and all associated artificial reproductive therapies, a bad name. Or should I say, an even worse name.

Rest assured that her actions and decisions, and the actions and decisions made by her “doctor”, will significantly impact ART in the immediate future for all state-side REs, and unfortunately, their patients who are probably all just a tad less psychotic. Yes, I do think Nadya is psychologically deficient.

Nadya?

You SUCK.

Big time.

PICS DRUNK CROTCH

Sorry, none here, but I can’t help but wonder….WHAT. THE. FARK?

Aren’t search terms fun? This is just one that stood out today. The list is seemingly endless.

Tell me one of your most memorable search terms that you’ve used (if you dare to share) or that you’ve had show up on your blog?

Today marks Day 3 of 7 for National Delurking Week. Delurk!

THANK YOU & BAD NIGHT!

Thank You!

Mr. DD called me and said a package had been delivered to the house to “Baby Murdock”. It took him a while to figure out who the hell that was since we don’t actually refer to Murdock as Murdock in real life. It’s just usually an equal usage of “he” or “she”.

The package was from Summer at Worrier/Warrior who is just now teetering into her second trimester through donor egg, and I couldn’t be more pleased with her progress. Thank you, Summer, so much for the sterilizer. I learned the first time that cleaning bottles with brushes and dishwashers was a real pain in the ass.

Also, my friend Mel from Minnesota deserves a public thank you as well for loaning me her playmat, boppy and jumper-thingy. In just six short years jumpers have evolved from the door jam hangers to saucer-like contraptions that require nothing more than three square feet of space. Genius!

I would also like to thank Shanna at Shinny Laboo for the gender-neutral newborn items she sent me a few weeks ago. When the box showed up, its size belied how many tiny things can actually be stuffed inside and it seemed I’d never reach the bottom!

That concludes the “Thank You” portion of this post. Now onto the “Bad Night”:

Bad Night(s)

It seems as if I’ve been stuck in a nightmarish loop of “just three more weeks” for the past six. Groundhog Day for the Pregnant Woman, perhaps? And that’s just three more weeks before my c-section. It’s actually four until my due date. It didn’t help that while out and about doing an errand last night, an acquaintance I hadn’t seen for some time asked if we were having twins.

I must be delusional as I thought most of my hugeness was originating out of my ankles. Want proof?

I have sharpei legs!! AAAiiieeeeeee!

Sleeping is still a much dreaded ordeal. I’ve become such a hormonal and whiny, crabby mess that when I wake by the fourth time each night, usually at 3:00 a.m., I’m literally in tears from the pain in my wrists and exhaustion. I never thought I would be such a blubbering mess at this point. At the same time, I wonder where I get the energy to answer the question, “How are you feeling?” with “Great!” when obviously, I’m not.

The Other Stuff

I did finally get someone scheduled to clean the  house. They will come for the first time July 11th. I went to that website to get my gift certificate for the service only to find that the GC is no longer available. You snooze, you lose.

Obviously nothing new to see here, move along. More interesting is the new reality show, The Baby Borrowers. I don’t know what is more insane: teenagers hoping to show they are ready to start a family now; or couples handing over their baby to clueless teenagers (of which there are one or two girls I’d love to slap across the face with a poop-filled diaper, especially the one who got so frustrated trying to feed the baby she ground out, “Fine, you can starve!” I’m looking at you, Alicea.).

If you’re not into picking up ONE. MORE. REALITY. SHOW! then I would also like to recommend that you stop and see Jessie over at Life As I Knew It Has Changed, who had a D&C as a follow-up to a biopsy that came back as pre-cancerous. A little stroking never did anyone harm, and she especially likes it…you dirty, dirty girl, you.

PEOPLE FOR THE EATING OF TASTY ANIMALS

I just don’t get PETA. I try to remain empathetic to these people and appreciate how difficult society treats them, but sometimes their focus is out of whack, aka – they’re a little overzealous.

People for the Ethical  Treatment of Animals.

So how is sending marksmen to shoot pest-carrying (and highly overpopulated) pigeons not ethical? It’s not like the powers-that-be of Wimbledon were letting the tennis players beat the proverbial shit out of them with rackets or capturing them to be stuffed down one of the ball shooters to then be fired out over the property.

Marksmen. Hired gun-slingers. It’s a good thing they didn’t call on me with my pellet gun and questionable shooting skills. It took me shooting a bat the size of a field mouse three times with a BB before I killed it. Shhh. Don’t tell. Not like anyone can do anything about it since I wasn’t necessarily discharging a firearm within city limits. OK, yes I was, but I was also inside my house.

Instead of PETA getting all up into the grill of Wimbledon’s administration, why not brainstorm a solution to the problem? Sure they were all fine with the specially trained hawks, but that makes PETA a bit prejudiced for not getting upset about those hawks being treated as nothing more than arial body guards without compensation than they were about a bunch of nasty, shit-dropping pigeons.

I can’t think of one positive purpose pigeons serve and I can assure you that pigeons are not good eatin’. Who would have thunk considering that they are about the same size as dove, which can be quite tasty.

AT LEAST MY SENSE OF HUMOR IS STILL INTACT

Another sleepless early morning thanks to the carpal tunnel. Yes, it’s that  bad. Bad enough that I get up and cry a little in the bathroom and then go back to lay down – just so I don’t wake up Mr. DD. I’d give my left hand (literally) to just go back to charlie horses and sciatica.

But just when I was feeling about as crappy as I think I could, someone took advantage of my delicate and sensitive state of mind and sent me this:

Thank you, Mollywogger. This gave me my first real smile of the day.

someecards? Some of the best stuff online, bar none.

no. 671 – Dump

I am appalled at what some people will dump in the ditches outside of town along the gravel roads. A couple years ago, two blue recliners were left in a culvert down the road from us. Last year, a TV found its way not far from there. Lord knows what other crap gets left in the middle of the night.

But what makes me absolutely livid are those people who go through the trouble of bagging their lawn clippings and then drive a couple miles outside of town to dump those clippings, bag and all, in a ditch.

How seriously lazy and egomaniacal are these people? Yard nazis who don't realize first of all how healthy it is to mulch their grass, and then can't simply open the bags and just dump the grass out. Hell, my husband and I are always willing to take our town-living friends' clippings to help improve our sandy soil.

God help any asshole I find dumping their shit in our ditches. And it WILL happen. And it WILL NOT be pretty. Fuckers.