The following message is intended for a couple of so-called friends who didn't send me a birthday greeting yesterday. They didn't even call. Or buy me diamonds, the bitches.
Better don your helmets and face masks, because the green poop is gonna hit the fan. Starting....
Now! --------------------------------------------->
To those who didn't send me, Ms. Lori, most excellent friend, darling angel who was sent from heaven in order to spread joy and wonder to the miserable people of earth, a birthday greeting, I hereby pronounce you dead.
Tuesday, November 9, 2004
Monday, November 8, 2004
Bastard Birthdays and the Bitch Who Loves Them
Things I have learned during my eighty-two years on this earth:
Men who name their penises should be avoided at all costs. Trust me on this.
Drink one glass of water for every two beers you consume.
If you think you look good, others will think so, too.
Coffee will keep you regular.
Women named Lisa are usually beautiful, but they tend to be two-faced and mean. If your name happens to be Lisa, forgive me, but you have my utter disdain.
You don't have to like your parents.
There will be at least one incident where you will giggle uncontrollably during a wedding or funeral service.
Caviar does not taste good, nor will it ever taste good. If someone tells you they like it, they are lying.
Male science teachers often touch themselves while explaining thermonuclear dynamics.
People who don't smile easily are usually the most trustworthy.
Monkeys and apes should not be held in captivity. That's akin to putting your Uncle Joe in a cage and keeping him in your basement.
All children deserve respect. And if you don't believe that, you are an asshole.
While you are giving birth, your doctor's face will invariably morph into that of an evil clown.
Baby heads and feet are, without a doubt, the most precious, godly objects one will ever gaze upon in this lifetime.
Jealousy is the sickest emotion.
Hate is futile.
Potatoes are the perfect food.
No matter how bad today is, it will pass. Better days truly are just around the corner. I guarentee it.
A funny man is a sexy man.
A funny woman is a sexy woman.
Looks don't mean dick -- confidence, excellent personal hygiene, compassion, and humor mean everything. Money is gravy.
Hollywood and Madison Avenue are the rectum and urethra of our world.
The Eagles' "Hotel California" produces hallucinations.
Poetry is the word, man. Dig it.
True love: When your significant other wants you to have the biggest piece of cake. Think about that for a moment. That's pretty deep.
There very well may be alien life forms, a God, sea monsters, bigfoots, ghosts, reincarnated souls, demonic spirits, other planes of existence, and life after death. Or not. I pity the fool who is so arrogant they can't imagine the possibilities.
I am fabulous because I said so, and that's good enough for me.
Men who name their penises should be avoided at all costs. Trust me on this.
Drink one glass of water for every two beers you consume.
If you think you look good, others will think so, too.
Coffee will keep you regular.
Women named Lisa are usually beautiful, but they tend to be two-faced and mean. If your name happens to be Lisa, forgive me, but you have my utter disdain.
You don't have to like your parents.
There will be at least one incident where you will giggle uncontrollably during a wedding or funeral service.
Caviar does not taste good, nor will it ever taste good. If someone tells you they like it, they are lying.
Male science teachers often touch themselves while explaining thermonuclear dynamics.
People who don't smile easily are usually the most trustworthy.
Monkeys and apes should not be held in captivity. That's akin to putting your Uncle Joe in a cage and keeping him in your basement.
All children deserve respect. And if you don't believe that, you are an asshole.
While you are giving birth, your doctor's face will invariably morph into that of an evil clown.
Baby heads and feet are, without a doubt, the most precious, godly objects one will ever gaze upon in this lifetime.
Jealousy is the sickest emotion.
Hate is futile.
Potatoes are the perfect food.
No matter how bad today is, it will pass. Better days truly are just around the corner. I guarentee it.
A funny man is a sexy man.
A funny woman is a sexy woman.
Looks don't mean dick -- confidence, excellent personal hygiene, compassion, and humor mean everything. Money is gravy.
Hollywood and Madison Avenue are the rectum and urethra of our world.
The Eagles' "Hotel California" produces hallucinations.
Poetry is the word, man. Dig it.
True love: When your significant other wants you to have the biggest piece of cake. Think about that for a moment. That's pretty deep.
There very well may be alien life forms, a God, sea monsters, bigfoots, ghosts, reincarnated souls, demonic spirits, other planes of existence, and life after death. Or not. I pity the fool who is so arrogant they can't imagine the possibilities.
I am fabulous because I said so, and that's good enough for me.
Saturday, November 6, 2004
Oh, The Things I Say!
So this morning I was running around like a crazy woman, as per usual, doing things that mothers do like vacuuming, wiping counters and butts, serving breakfast, making beds, breaking up fights, smoking some crack, doing laundry, cleaning unidentified gooey stuff off of the T.V. screen, and in the process, I stubbed my toe on the coffee table. I stubbed it real good, too, and it bled like my liberal heart.
It was awful.
And what came out of my mouth would disgust even the most hardened criminal. If you're easily offended, I would suggest not reading any further.
It really is disturbing.
So, like, go forth and surf to another blog.
I mean it.
Go.
Away.
Now.
'Kay.
After I stubbed my toe, the pain was so shocking, so nightmarish, I actually felt my soul leave my body. And during the interim absence of my soul, Satan slipped in but quick and possessed my vocal chords. The following is not suitable for children under seventeen.
***************************************
I said this:
Flapfuck! God, oh, God, flappyfuck flap flap flap!
Apparently, “flapfuck” is considered the worst of the worst in certain circles of Hell.
I screamed the above while running around the living room on my heels. I did that for exactly two minutes and 34 seconds.
Then I felt better and had some coffee.
It was awful.
And what came out of my mouth would disgust even the most hardened criminal. If you're easily offended, I would suggest not reading any further.
It really is disturbing.
So, like, go forth and surf to another blog.
I mean it.
Go.
Away.
Now.
'Kay.
After I stubbed my toe, the pain was so shocking, so nightmarish, I actually felt my soul leave my body. And during the interim absence of my soul, Satan slipped in but quick and possessed my vocal chords. The following is not suitable for children under seventeen.
***************************************
I said this:
Flapfuck! God, oh, God, flappyfuck flap flap flap!
Apparently, “flapfuck” is considered the worst of the worst in certain circles of Hell.
I screamed the above while running around the living room on my heels. I did that for exactly two minutes and 34 seconds.
Then I felt better and had some coffee.
Friday, November 5, 2004
Republican Erotica
On His Paper Pillow
Fires rage beneath his lids, smoke of billowing red
And white
With souls purged, cleansed
By his self-appointed ministry
The screams of thousands evaporate into the blue
Vanquished by righteous indignation
He smiles against his paper pillow
Buries his conscience deep, deep
Within its soft, green American weave
He smiles and rolls toward his wife
She of the milk-fed exterior and
Careful poise
Lies open-eyed as he puts his hand
Over her heart
As the screams of thousands
Millions
Echo, spin, thrash
Against impenetrable walls of gold
--L. Lynn Young
Fires rage beneath his lids, smoke of billowing red
And white
With souls purged, cleansed
By his self-appointed ministry
The screams of thousands evaporate into the blue
Vanquished by righteous indignation
He smiles against his paper pillow
Buries his conscience deep, deep
Within its soft, green American weave
He smiles and rolls toward his wife
She of the milk-fed exterior and
Careful poise
Lies open-eyed as he puts his hand
Over her heart
As the screams of thousands
Millions
Echo, spin, thrash
Against impenetrable walls of gold
--L. Lynn Young
Wednesday, November 3, 2004
What a Fucking Surprise, Eh?
My friend's fiancée was accosted by two men in Canadice, NY when she attempted to exercise her right to vote. The men, who'd emerged from a white SUV as she walked up to the polling place, blocked her entrance and assaulted her with hate-talk, with bold lies and misinformation. They would not listen to her protests, and they would not let her be. They only left her alone after a polling official saw what was happening and came to her aid. She has reported this to the authorities. What good will come of it, I haven't a clue. I'm thinking not much.
Unfortunately, hers is not an isolated case of voter intimidation. But those of you who read with your eyes open already know that.
For those of you who voted for Bush and may have come across OWM by accident, I apologize for my strong language. I respect every American's personal beliefs, political bent, religious affiliation, etcetera, etcetera.
But.
I am now certain that many of you have rocks in your pointy little heads.
I am appalled, frustrated and physically sickened by the flagrant misconduct happening right in front of our eyes, and I am especially sickened by those who choose not to see it.
Open your eyes, goddammit, and see the truth for once in your life. Open your eyes to the fact that our current administration is the
most corrupt in American history, that the powers that be are not concerned with your welfare, but of their own agendas. We are in the grip of a massive power-hungry, fascist, corporate-run regime that will continue, if allowed, to destroy everything America has stood for since 1776.
They, the current regime, have systematically reduced our civil liberties; brought uncertainty and economic hardship to those of us holding on to middle class by a thread; knocked down the "almost there" class to poverty level; devastated America's integrity; engaged in loophole-loving tactics that empower the top 1% income bracket, thus empowering the regime, thus keeping us little folk down. You know, where we belong.
They have lied to us, they have endangered our security beyond measure, have murdered scores and scores and scores of our young men and women, and now, due to dirty tricks so heinous, so unbelievably old-Soviet in nature that even Ronald Reagan would shake his head in disgust (secretly, of course), they will continue to do so.
I do not want this regime to continue killing its own citizens, nor those of other countries.
I do not want this regime to continue its corporate-sucking ways, because, dammit, old folks need medicine as well as food. They should not have to choose.
I do not want this regime to continue leaving children behind. Mr. Bush had already proven with his governorship in Texas, then with his presidency, that despite his claims of "compassionate Conservatism," he practices anything but.
I do not want this regime to continue polluting our air and water.
I do not want this regime to continue on with its sneaky yet obvious (to those with a brain) attempts at keeping women, gays, lesbians, minorities, as well as those who oppose its ideology, in a box. A box where no one can hear them scream.
I do not want this regime to continue its decision-making influenced by the word of God. I think I speak for all who believe our commander-in-chief should always and forever be possessed of intelligence, integrity, presence of mind, and true compassion, not by some imaginary friend they think is "God," when I say that Mr. Bush is unfit for command.
Spirituality is beautiful, insanity is not.
And lastly, I do not want this regime to continue threatening my children's future, the security of my comfort in old age; I do not want this regime to continue destroying my of quality of life. Or yours. I want this regime to go away now, just go away and leave us be.
I want America back.
Unfortunately, hers is not an isolated case of voter intimidation. But those of you who read with your eyes open already know that.
For those of you who voted for Bush and may have come across OWM by accident, I apologize for my strong language. I respect every American's personal beliefs, political bent, religious affiliation, etcetera, etcetera.
But.
I am now certain that many of you have rocks in your pointy little heads.
I am appalled, frustrated and physically sickened by the flagrant misconduct happening right in front of our eyes, and I am especially sickened by those who choose not to see it.
Open your eyes, goddammit, and see the truth for once in your life. Open your eyes to the fact that our current administration is the
most corrupt in American history, that the powers that be are not concerned with your welfare, but of their own agendas. We are in the grip of a massive power-hungry, fascist, corporate-run regime that will continue, if allowed, to destroy everything America has stood for since 1776.
They, the current regime, have systematically reduced our civil liberties; brought uncertainty and economic hardship to those of us holding on to middle class by a thread; knocked down the "almost there" class to poverty level; devastated America's integrity; engaged in loophole-loving tactics that empower the top 1% income bracket, thus empowering the regime, thus keeping us little folk down. You know, where we belong.
They have lied to us, they have endangered our security beyond measure, have murdered scores and scores and scores of our young men and women, and now, due to dirty tricks so heinous, so unbelievably old-Soviet in nature that even Ronald Reagan would shake his head in disgust (secretly, of course), they will continue to do so.
I do not want this regime to continue killing its own citizens, nor those of other countries.
I do not want this regime to continue its corporate-sucking ways, because, dammit, old folks need medicine as well as food. They should not have to choose.
I do not want this regime to continue leaving children behind. Mr. Bush had already proven with his governorship in Texas, then with his presidency, that despite his claims of "compassionate Conservatism," he practices anything but.
I do not want this regime to continue polluting our air and water.
I do not want this regime to continue on with its sneaky yet obvious (to those with a brain) attempts at keeping women, gays, lesbians, minorities, as well as those who oppose its ideology, in a box. A box where no one can hear them scream.
I do not want this regime to continue its decision-making influenced by the word of God. I think I speak for all who believe our commander-in-chief should always and forever be possessed of intelligence, integrity, presence of mind, and true compassion, not by some imaginary friend they think is "God," when I say that Mr. Bush is unfit for command.
Spirituality is beautiful, insanity is not.
And lastly, I do not want this regime to continue threatening my children's future, the security of my comfort in old age; I do not want this regime to continue destroying my of quality of life. Or yours. I want this regime to go away now, just go away and leave us be.
I want America back.
Tuesday, November 2, 2004
I Know, I Know -- Preaching to the Choir. But I Can't Help Myself
And so, my friends, on this election day...
GET OFF YOUR ASS AND VOTE!
Or suffer the consequences.
Monday, November 1, 2004
November Reigns
I like October okay -- Halloween is good, the air smells good, the trees look good. October is...good. But November, ah, now November is...
C) My birthday month. November 8th for those kind souls who are just dying to give me a present. I like books (all genres except romance), jewelry (especially diamonds, but cheap, funky shit is great too), chocolate, music (all forms except gangsta crap and country), and cigarettes (anything menthol). I don't have the P.O. Box # on hand right now, but I'll be sure to add that in here a.s.a.p. Get your credit cards ready, yo. I'm fucking serious.
5) Election time. Can't wait to bury my boot up Bush's ass.
6) Thanksgivinglicious. I dream of turkey, potatoes and stuffing smothered in gravy. I dream of pie and cannoli and large bottles of alcohol. Yeah.
N) The first snowfall. I hate snow, but that first snowfall makes me break down and weep tears of wonder every time. It really is beautiful, but I get sick of it quick, like if Brad Pitt were to live in my house 24/7 -- heaven to look at, but after a while, the cold, stark beauty becomes tiresome, especially after it's been sitting around too long and gets all nasty with dog poop. Familiarity breeds contempt.
3) Rainy time. Rain washes all that nastiness away, even if only temporarily. I enjoy the fact that there's no worm smell in November.
Sigh, oh, sigh.
This bit of November silliness isn't what I'd planned on writing about today. I had a much more serious and depressing topic in mind, but I changed my mind as I began typing.
Well, I changed my mind yet again, because I can't get this bastard monkey off my back.
It has to do with betrayal. Has to do with having a knife plunged into my heart by someone close to me, someone who I love, who I trusted (to an extent) regardless of his past. No, it's not my husband, nor is it my children that I'm talking about, but it is someone I've known for a very long time. Someone who, in the spiritual sense, is now dead to me.
He stole money from my purse this past weekend. The man ate my food, drank my beer, enjoyed my hospitality, then went into the bathroom, found my purse, opened my wallet, and stole my money.
As if he had a right.
I was devastated.
But November is my favorite time of year, and I'm filled with good feelings, excited with the new year to come, glad that the old one will soon pass and take with it all the hurt, disappointment and hardship I experienced -- 2005 is gonna be great, I just know it. I refuse to allow my optimism to be taken from me as well.
Oh, God, December 31 is only a calendar flip away. I plan on giving it a big wet kiss, a warm hug, maybe even a dry hump for good measure.
Here's to new beginnings.
C) My birthday month. November 8th for those kind souls who are just dying to give me a present. I like books (all genres except romance), jewelry (especially diamonds, but cheap, funky shit is great too), chocolate, music (all forms except gangsta crap and country), and cigarettes (anything menthol). I don't have the P.O. Box # on hand right now, but I'll be sure to add that in here a.s.a.p. Get your credit cards ready, yo. I'm fucking serious.
5) Election time. Can't wait to bury my boot up Bush's ass.
6) Thanksgivinglicious. I dream of turkey, potatoes and stuffing smothered in gravy. I dream of pie and cannoli and large bottles of alcohol. Yeah.
N) The first snowfall. I hate snow, but that first snowfall makes me break down and weep tears of wonder every time. It really is beautiful, but I get sick of it quick, like if Brad Pitt were to live in my house 24/7 -- heaven to look at, but after a while, the cold, stark beauty becomes tiresome, especially after it's been sitting around too long and gets all nasty with dog poop. Familiarity breeds contempt.
3) Rainy time. Rain washes all that nastiness away, even if only temporarily. I enjoy the fact that there's no worm smell in November.
Sigh, oh, sigh.
This bit of November silliness isn't what I'd planned on writing about today. I had a much more serious and depressing topic in mind, but I changed my mind as I began typing.
Well, I changed my mind yet again, because I can't get this bastard monkey off my back.
It has to do with betrayal. Has to do with having a knife plunged into my heart by someone close to me, someone who I love, who I trusted (to an extent) regardless of his past. No, it's not my husband, nor is it my children that I'm talking about, but it is someone I've known for a very long time. Someone who, in the spiritual sense, is now dead to me.
He stole money from my purse this past weekend. The man ate my food, drank my beer, enjoyed my hospitality, then went into the bathroom, found my purse, opened my wallet, and stole my money.
As if he had a right.
I was devastated.
But November is my favorite time of year, and I'm filled with good feelings, excited with the new year to come, glad that the old one will soon pass and take with it all the hurt, disappointment and hardship I experienced -- 2005 is gonna be great, I just know it. I refuse to allow my optimism to be taken from me as well.
Oh, God, December 31 is only a calendar flip away. I plan on giving it a big wet kiss, a warm hug, maybe even a dry hump for good measure.
Here's to new beginnings.
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