Saturday, September 21, 2013

Just call me PotHead

As many of you know I live in the country on five acres and over 300 feet of lakefront.  It’s quite lovely, I cannot lie.  It’s a little piece of heaven really.  We have a dog, 3 rabbits and about 20 Koi and Goldfish.  When we leave on vacation from our vacation home (wait...what?), we prefer live in care for the animals we leave behind.  The dog usually joins us but the fish, it’s dicey on long road trips. The bowl keeps spilling.   Most recently we rented a cottage in Michigan, took the dog, left the rabbits and fish behind with three rounds of house sitters coming and going.  Much of the time, the house sitters are made up of dear friends and they bring their friends and family to enjoy our home.  We hope they get to feel like our home is a vacation home/cottage they might not otherwise get the chance to have, and we get the peace of mind that the animals and the house will be well cared for.  When we return we always find amazingly clean home and goodies; pasta sauce from scratch, lasagna, baked goods and this time, a wee bit of the Mary Jane, the wacky tabaccy, “smoke”, marygewanna, or “MJ” I am going to call it (just because I am lazy that way).  
The view is beautiful in God's country....when you are sober.
Truth is, I haven’t smoked the shit since high school.  On return from said vacation we had company and they enjoy the occasional “toot” a friend calls it.  So I had some then, after 20 plus years at least since my last "toot".  The last thing I heard as I went to take a cute little pipe was “don’t take too much or hold it in for too long if you don’t smoke normally” so I didn’t.  I listen to the pros.  I am good that way.  I like to be informed and educated before particip-action.  The next thing I clearly remember saying was “holy shit, am I talking a lot?  I feel like I am talking a lot?  Am I?  I am annoying myself”.  To which I got a reassuring, “we are all friends, relax, enjoy, go with it” from a friend, who I am sure was giggling her ass off behind me.

What I didn’t do in that period of time where I was only a smidgen under the influence was see how my back felt.  I have three herniated discs, one of which is torn, plus significant damage to the fascia, ligaments and nerves that run from the back down the leg.   I qualify for medical MJ if I want it due to this injury, but I never bothered because I figured I could become a big pot head, sitting on the couch, 300 pounds of Cheetos all around me, hoping someone would lift me up so I could go pee.  And, I quit smoking cigarettes a year ago, I didn't want to do anything even remotely related that might lead me back in that direction, no thanks.  I’ve quit twice and each time was harder than the last.  Okay, honest to shit truth is, I am learning to accept me for me but there is no way I was going to do something that made one have the “munchies”.  There is no way I will find myself like this:
That's not me...but it so could be! I am not above this type of behaviour, at all.
There’s the lead in.  Don’t smoke it, people left it, I had tried it but didn’t remember to think about my back, in large part likely because I was in fact, high.   And I am fearful of baths full of Cheetos, like a lot scared.
My hubster was away travelling as he often is and when he gets home I am often angry.  He was away, I missed him, I feel vulnerable, insert insecurities, and compensative anger here.  When I feel insecure I defend that feeling with my temper.  I didn’t want to do this to him and my back was sore, so I decided to smoke a joint, take the edge off as they say.  Not sure who they are but I think they know shit.  Figured it would give me the giggles and a happy homecoming for my hubby and I could check out how my back felt on MJ.  I hopped in the car and headed into town where I remember one of the local gas stations had basically a head shop in it.  I always wondered how they get away with that.  Isn’t this shit illegal?  Right, so let me talk more about my illegal activity.  On my shopping expedition I got some sort of little container that grinds down the MJ, I’ve seen them used.  I of course have no idea how it works, couldn’t figure it out, and its remains unused.  Apparently you can just crumble the MJ with your hands. I bought me some Zig Zags.  That’s rolling papers to those not in the “know”.  I took as little of the MJ as I possibly could, crumbled it, put it in said paper and commenced rolling.  I relied solely on memory functioning from high school.  My fingers did what my brain had forgotten. If I do say so myself, that bitch was FINE!  Nice and tight, but not too tight thus preventing a nice slow burn.  Oh I still got the mad skills all, got ‘em.   NAILED IT! After I appreciated my handiwork and did a little jig in the kitchen I proceeded to sit outside by the pond with the dog.

……….. And smoke the ENTIRE joint, alone. 

See I got halfway and thought, “Well I feel it a little, but not too much, a little more won’t hurt”.  By the time I finished the joint, I was high.  End of story.  Well not quite, it never is with me.  I knew this was going to make for a good tale so I decided to write down how I felt and it is below, without any spellcheck or edits.  And here it is, for your enjoyment.  I have very little clear recollection of what I said exactly so I will enjoy reading it alongside you.
I have smoked pot for the very first time in a VERY lONG time.   I sit here wondering why it is I want to burp.  What the fuck is in pot that is making me want to burp?  And why are the letters on this page appearing magically out of some sort of doorway on the paper?….right my fingers, fuck that’s funny….jesus I am not good with this. Not at all. What is with the fucking burps?  Okay, gonna take a gravol in hopes I fall asleep and the naseau passes. I am sitting on the fuckign couch why am I seasick?  I used to like this shit, come on now, why????  OMG the dog just spoke to me, in dog language not human, that would be wrong….fucking hell that’s funny shit. my tongue feels heavy???  I would put the TV back on and lose myself in it if only the people would stop moving, oh the tv is on, don’t look up fuck these letters are just coming out of nowhere….right I am typing.  People really like this shit?  Fucking hell a bird just chirped and I almost shit myself in fear?  What am I afraid of, the PO PO?  Cause a 43 year old dumnbass smoked a doobey.  Why do they call it that.?  Peanut butter sucks ass right now.  Had a pb reeces cup and it’s still stuck to the roof of my fucking wouth.  I meant mouth.  I have a fan going beside me, not sure I like that much either.  Feel every hair blowing like I hav a full beard.  Duck Dynastsy here I come.  Burp.  WtF! Oh that’s awesome.  The door.  The doorbell.  Be SOBER.  Be it.

GOLD!  That’s what that is, GOLD! (Hence the font colour).

At the door was the son of a good friend up here.  He and his Dad weed my gardens for me and in turn I donated some money to his hockey fundraising.  But there is this wee little guy at my door and I remember thinking, screaming I my own head, “act sober, stop darting your eyes about, why are you hiding behind a door?”  I opened the door, the little man asked to see the rabbits and I realized I couldn’t do it.  I wasn’t sure I could go in there, or out into the big bad world like this.  My dog was eating dinner, the TV was on, and this kid wants to see the rabbits, ITS TOO MUCH, TOO MUCH, TOOOOOOOOOO MUUUUUCH!  I sent him politely (I think) into the garage to the rabbits with his Dad.  I finished with the dog and splashed water on both our faces.  His by accident, mine intentional and headed out to the rabbits. 
OMG why are you here, please don't see me, please don't see me.  DAMN IT.
Once in there I started to think, “I smell, I smell like pot, his Dad knows I smoked pot”.  DAMN IT.  I look down at my shirt, and it's one of my homemade ones.  It basically reads “f*ck you”.  DAMN IT.  I went and got food for the bunnies for the little guy to feed them and basically forgot which rabbit would do what.  DAMN IT.  Who would take a carrot from the hand?  That one.  NOPE.  Sorry little man.  Try this one, NOPE.  Sorry again.  DAMN IT.  "What the fuck is wrong with you woman" is constantly running through my head?  Here this one will eat from your hand, I am sure of it this time I said. SCORE!  Yay.  Well done gurl, well done.  Why are you talking so much?  "Stop it" I thought to myself, do I always talk this much?  They have to know I am stoned.  DAMN IT.  Finally after trying to communicate in, what I can only assume was the English language, the little man and his Dad headed off.  All I could think was that in the three months this gorgeous little boy had come by he had NEVER spoken that much.  Now maybe it was because I was so high that I thought that but I swear he talked to me for 7 hours!

At this point I knew I couldn’t get let my husband come home and not tell him.  I must have been acting ridiculous so I called him and said “honey, I, uhhhhmmm, smoked a joint, alone, by myself and now, I am quite high and I am not really enjoying this whatsoever”.   “Okay honey, when you are done laughing you need to understand when you come home I could be in the corner of the kitchen, lights off, flashlight on, and eating ice cream from the container”.  Again, big belly husband laughs.  DAMN IT!  Now I started laughing.  That too, went on for 6-7 hours I believe.  My husband asked if I was in fact okay, I said yes through tears of laughter and hung up.  It’s an hour and a half drive from where he was.  I called 9 more times.  One of the times I called he couldn’t understand a word I muffled.  Apparently I thought having a Reese’s peanut butter bar of some sort to rid my mouth of the pasties and my stomach of the burping was a good idea.  Of course the peanut butter just stuck to the very dry roof of my mouth and I called to tell him about it.  By the time he arrived, he was in hysterics and he had decided I would be forever known as “pothead”.  Even this morning he called from the car to ask me not to smoke a joint in his absence.  He was going out for maybe a half hour.  ASS!  Once he got passed laughing at me last night he went to check on all the animals because I said I “thought” I fed them.  He was pretty certain he’d find dog food floating in the fish pond and fish food in with the rabbits and the dog still starving.  Half  an hour after that I decided I HAD to have pizza, even though I wasn’t hungry really.  In his usual helpful manner Dan just kept saying “do you want another slice stoner?”  He just defines "helpful" in the dictionary he does.

At one point in the evening the dog went looking for a toy for us and he went behind a chair, where much to my stoned surprise,  there was another toy basket .  I didn't remember it was there so I said “Jesus Christ the fucking dog’s smarter than I am”.  And Dan’s reply?  “Right now, I am pretty sure the couch is smarter than you are!”

I can say with confidence I am done dabbling in pot.   Didn’t enjoy that one bit but I do hope you enjoyed the ride along. 

Monday, September 16, 2013

Scott idea? Take pride in not knowing.

I won't lie, I've seen a couple Keeping up with the Kardashians.  I am not die hard fan.  I do not tape the show, I do not look for the show and when all else fails I would rather watch Storage Wars, Counting Cars, or Pawn Stars.  I'm a bit of a boy that way.  That said, I love me some gossip magazines, or I used to. 

In the past I used these gossip rags to shut down my brain and look at fancy pictures of stars in the same outfit under "Who Wore it Best", or the online entertainment news outlets.  I looked them up almost daily.  Even when I worked full time, I would arrive at the office at 7am and enjoy catching up with ma' news via Pink is the New Blog, a personal favorite, over my morning coffee.  Lately however, I am finding myself falling behind.  My unread magazine pile, most on subscription, is half a foot high and I am enjoying Canadian Living and House and Home more than the old gossip rags.  I don't know what's happening to me.  Not to worry, I see the doctor next week.

Back to the Kardashians.  I have not kept up with the Kardashians.  I believe they are in reruns on a few channels which means the show has been syndicated and they are making millions and that hurts a girl.  I have now done my homework and these people, are not famous worthy.  Much like Paris Hilton, who has left the limelight, thank god, this family is famous for, well, nothing.

Robert Kardashian Sr. was a pretty big deal lawyer, he represented OJ Simpson, and we all know how that turned out.  He did his job and then some.  Thankfully Karma did hers later on.  OJ finally got what he deserved, he was tossed in the slammer.  Robert Sr. had 4 kids, Kourtney, Kim, Khloe and Robert Jr.  He was married to Kris (now Jenner) for 13 years.  K seems to be their favorite letter and evidence of their creative minds.  That and "junior" = creative.  He and Kris split in 1991, he died in 2003.  I stopped researching at this point as I was annoying myself and my brain hurt.  The rest I can fill in myself.  Kris Kardashian, Mama Kardashian, then married Bruce Jenner, famous Olympic Decathlon athlete.  They had two kids, Kendall and Kylie.  See what I mean about the K's, it's a little ridiculous now.

Even at this point, no one is all that famous....yet.  And they all have their own god given faces, still.

Kim Kardashian taped herself having sex with her boyfriend.  And this is where the phrase "Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am" came from.  Causer her whole family said "thanks" and her boyfriend got the "wham bam" part.  The tape leaked, next thing you know...we were "Keeping up with the Kardashians" and they are making millions along with Ryan Seacrest, one of the Executive Producers (the money man) behind the show.  Bet you didn't know that little tidbit did ya?

I do not kid when I say, that when I was a wee younger and trimmer, had I know what a sex tape had potential to do for you, I would have made one.  Damn straight I would.  Would you???

All this ties into who Scott Disick is.  He is the boyfriend or fiance of Kourtney Kardashian and they have two children together, a boy and a girl with boy and girl names not starting with K's, I believe.  If you look up the biography of Mr. Disick who runs around on the show being a pompous ass wipe in ugly over priced suits looking a little like Professor Plum in the board game Clue.  He claims to be an American reality television personality, model and businessman.  I can confirm the reality part.  For now anyways.  Apparently he and that K girl fight a lot but he begs for her back, and she takes him.  I mean she is the wallet so I would beg too I suppose.  As for model, I can confirm that as well.  See below for your amusement:

Isn't he just the dreamiest?

As for businessman, if you mean knocking up his girlfriend continuously so he can remain on TV, then yes, he is one.

Now I have no problems with how these people made their money.  So long as the family Mom or Dad didn't make the sex tape themselves to gain this fame, whatever.  I have a problem with society finding this all so amusing they've kept it on the air for some time like Honey Boo Boo, My Strange Addiction, and Jerry Springer (is he still on?).  I wish we were better than this.  As I type this blog about it.  Ironic. 

You know I am getting to the part where I am thoroughly annoyed and want to hit someone right? 

What I dislike, or even hate, is that this ass wipe thinks these pictures are okay so I am going to caption them myself for both our entertainment:

This is how much I made for being a sperm donor.  It keeps me warm at night.

I claim to wipe my ass with hundred dollar bills but we both know that's not true.  If she tires of me I need to have some money hidden offshore or I am fucked as that "businessman" bullshit is just that, bullshit.  The only business I go downtown for is my husbandry duties.

Maybe that's my pink purse, don't judge.  And perhaps, just perhaps the money is looking a little more monopoly like in this picture.  And maybe that's actually what I wipe my ass with.

DOUCHEBAG.  That's all I really have for this photo. 

And that's me Keeping up with the Kardashians.  My personal Scott (I am a) Dick-....wait, that's not how it's spelled, is it?  That would explain so much.

Be kind to yourself, don't forget your voice.

In the past year I have taken some courses that basically remind a girl to be good, to be kind, to ourselves.  For me to be kind, to me.  Of course, being kind to others is part of life's responsibilities if you want to be a good person, one cannot be without the other.  You cannot be kind to yourself AT the expense of others but sometimes you have to be good to yourself and others have to accommodate you in that.  Just how it is. 

I am not good at it.  Trust me I am not.  I will cut off a limb, hand it to you, bleeding out and say, "see what I did there, now you will be kind to me right?"  Cutting off your own limb to get another to like you?  That's not only not kind, in that you've removed a limb, but hey now OUCH.  You need to like yourself enough you need not to have to worry about everyone else. How to save a limb, Class 101.

In keeping with all this, I decided I needed to stop picking at my hands, biting my fingers, biting my nails, pick pick pick.  None of those OCD like behaviours are kind to myself.  Solution?  Bandage all one's fingers much like Michael Jackson and hope no one's close by with Propofol. 

Too soon?

The real solution?  Why it's regular mani pedis of course! 

That will help the aforementioned afflictions and its a way to be kind to myself without the whole dying too young part I am not good with.  I now give myself the time every few weeks to get them both done.  And if you find the right place that's just clean enough, you can get it done dirt cheap.  Some places even sell you a set of nail equipment just for you, and will store it for you as well!  No share-zies for this OCD girl!  Because my nails, much like my Cousin IT hair, grow like mad, I could go in, every two weeks.  But, that's beyond being nice to myself, that's being a princess and I don't look good in crowns.  It's just not my look.  Once a month it is.

Much like the picture I rock a beret not a tiara.

I put a set of gel tips on about two months ago.  My nails had been bitten down, a lot.  And I now have my own nails.  It's been about 7 weeks and I have nails well past the end of my finger, the tip has grown off and I can get gel put on my nails now only.  Everything, including my ba'hind, grows like this.  Just really fast.  I am sure it means I am healthy as a horse OR, I was in fact bitten by a science experiment spider once and these features are my spidey strengths.  Either or.

I was a little upset this week as getting the gel applied to my beautifully long nails the manicurist ended up shortening my natural nails.  The guy I normally see was busy so I was seeing his wife who spent the entire time on the phone not asking me one single question about ma' nails.  There I was all proud how long they were and before I could say "wait" she had filed one off enough I could only follow with the others or fear looking like a backwards coke dealer.  9 long, one pinky short.  A coke dealer with a coke problem requiring 9 nails versus the normal 1.  I jumped in as quickly as I could when the phone went down and said "please stop filing them any shorter!"  In turn I got back, "you strict". 

In short ladies, even when you are being kinder to yourself and doing these things just for you, find your voice.   You can't always expect others to read your minds.  You might end up disappointed.  You need say what you want and how you want it.  If you can do it in the bedroom you can do it in the nail salon!

Thankfully it's just my nails so give me a day or two, my nails will be ZaZa Gabore length in no time flat.  Besides for now, they are looking pretty in pink polka dots.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Baggage (you know you got it)

I always knew I had a past, a history, shit in my life.  I knew what it was and how it played out in my life.  See I am smart.  I know shit.  What I didn't know was how it was controlling me.  I learned that in a course, Landmark, about a year ago.  Then more even still in an MBSR course for pain sufferers (Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction) taken recently.  All of the sudden all the "wrongs" people had done to me became instantly heavier than the minute before.  And in that minute I suddenly realized how much power I gave those "wrongs".  I did that.  All these people and interactions over the years, piled one a top the other.  Anyone who hurt my feelings, disappointed me, wronged me, they did but just "one thing".  Just "one action".   And that one thing, no matter how bad, was still one action.  Whether it was a raised voice, raised hand, insult, joke, assumption, judgement, it was still, only just one action. 

I THEN I took that, re-designed myself to accommodate carrying it, (that new piece of baggage).   There I was trudging through life carrying piles of shitty new luggage I never asked for in the first place!  One piled a top the next.  I was actively participating in making one action more important than the last.  They were getting fucking heavier, each time.  This made each more devastating, more hurtful, than the last.  I was harder on myself, and harder on them for it.  Imagine being the 17th person to have said something wrong to me.  You got the reaction warranted for 17 different actions.  You did one thing and one thing only and I reacted like you did all 17!  Because each time something happened I strapped it onto my back and carried it.  By the time you piled your shit on I was fucking tired.  And can this girl react!!!   Not only am I bi polar but I am going through peri menopause so, the earth actually stops moving around when I react.  It's scared to move.  The earth doesn't want to piss this girl off.

This is ON me, I actively participated in this.  Even if it was bad as you hit me or you cheated on me.  If I take that with me into my next interaction with someone, I am forever changing that interaction and every one after it.  I am giving your action the power to change my world and everyone I come in contact with.  You were an ass (big whoop).  There I go strapping that shit onto my back like I'm a fucking Sherpa.  You on the other hand likely walked away like nothing happened.  (I am aware in some cases the person doing the action has feelings too.  That's just not the point of this story.  It's all about me.  I am surprised you didn't get the memo). 

I am not saying hitting me, or being mean to me is right.  I am saying once you realize how much you are carrying around there are people you are going to actually want to apologize too.  To say "holy shit I have just realized how much I over reacted to what you did because I've never let go of all my own shit.  Basically I took all my own shit and when you did your ONE thing to me, I threw all  my shit back at you.  So even though you may have been wrong, I still owe you an apology for that.  My reaction to your action wasn't justified, wasn't equal or proportional at all".  In that moment, if you can put your ego aside and not say "but they, but they" and say "sorry" the peace that comes with it in that moment is lovely.  Who cares what they did, own what YOU DID.  You can't make them do anything, you can't make them change, you don't even have a right to ask them too.  If they want to be bad people and suck, that's their choice.  You can still own what you did. 

I did what the above said, I did the apologizing and it felt great.  I called my Mom and Dad. These are both people that I don't always get along with.  Who through their divorce dragged me along with it and my self esteem.  Who maybe didn't know how to raise kids, (but did their best I can now see).  I called each and said "holy fuck I have blamed my whole life on you and I am so sorry".  I no longer feel the pain of them.  Sure they can get on my nerves sometimes but I am not walking around saying "I am not loved or lovable because 31 years ago......"  "Listen up gurl (gurl being me, I am talking to myself) 31 years ago they got divorced and handled it in a shitty manner now move the fuck on!"  You can tell a person this a thousand times and they will resent you for it every one of them.  And then one day it might just slap them in the face what an injustice they are doing to themselves by carrying all this shit around. 

There were a couple of people in the last 12-24 months who I always thought would be my friend. I had done so many things for them, how could they not.  Well some shit happened, it was directed at me or so I thought and I put that shit on like a suit of armor.  I went from being a great person (who went out of her way for both, and I did, by choice) to a piece of shit no one could love (because they, acted like assholes).  By the way, I didn't change whatsoever.  Same girl, before, and after.  All they did was act like an ass and I took that in.  I took it in and added to my parents divorce, the guy who looked at me funny on the street, the lady in the office who yelled at me and that one teacher who.....and I reacted.  I over reacted.  I reacted like a nuclear reactor on high alert.  It was fucking bad.  And I needed to take ownership of it.  And I did that by apologizing.  You can't hit a person with shit then say "my bad" and hope it's okay, may not always work that way.  Not every one's gonna jump up and down and say thanks so much, were so pleased you are here in your life now like my parents did. Some will, some won't.  Says much to relationship itself to be honest. Each of the two I mentioned above basically told me to go fuck myself.  They disregarded the action of my apology as inauthentic which hurt, but I got over it.  We always do.

I can't lie about this stuff.  It's not easy.  Once the course and teachings wore off and life started kicking me in the taco again I reverted back and went on the attack.  People were misbehaving where I was concerned!  You may always fall back into old patterns of "why me, what did I do, I did this for you and this, why don't you love me, you're an asshole, did you know that?"  You can only hope that you jump out of that pity party hole faster than the last time.  That you suddenly find yourself saying why do I feel so heavy, weighed down by life, sad.  Oh right, I just piled every one's shit back on my own shoulders.  FUCK!  That's not being very loving and/or kind to myself now is it?   First it's heavy and I have a bad back and secondly, shit smells.

And you start over again.  I wouldn't suggest apologizing again, you can't keep doing that over and over if people don't want it.  And it can take it's toll on your own self worth to always be saying "I'm sorry" especially if people don't react, give back.  Now you move onto acceptance.  This is what I learned in the more recent MBSR course.  "It is, what it is".  And we added "while it is".   Don't look back, don't look forward too far (that's stressful stuff way out there years ahead).  Stay in the moment, let it pass, everything does.

It's kind of like just accepting an asshole's an asshole.  Once you do that it's not hard to say "hmmmm not sure I want an asshole around".  Can you turn an asshole into anything but an asshole?  No you cannot.  A duck is a duck.  If it walks, swims, flies, and looks like a duck, 9 times out of 10 (probably more) it's gonna quack like a duck too.  So just accept it, it's a duck.  Don't strap that duck on (unless you're into that kinky stuff).  Just move on past the duck if you don't prefer ducks. 

And life becomes so much easier when you start to do this.  Rinse repeat. 

There's been an action.
You've had your apocalyptic reaction.
You've apologized.
You've accepted, it is what it is.
Now you move on. 

Doesn't sound so hard now does it?  Well it is harder than it sounds because it's human nature to want others to know what you know, others not to be hurt, others to care about you, to love you, to not believe bad things about you but if you just accept, "it is what it is".  Life becomes, lighter.  So your next reaction, hopefully it is half of what it was before.  Those apocalyptic reactions take a lot out of a girl.  Adds wrinkles!  And besides that, it's a complete and utter waste of your time.

And you have to give yourself that little bit of credit.  Come on now, you can do it.  "Hey there you, well done on learning from the last nuclear reaction, this one, only atomic, well done gurl, well done!"  Being observant of things you are learning and crediting yourself is really good for the ego.  Especially when you are feeding your own ego, and you are not looking for someone else to do it.  Ego's are very fragile, don't be throwing it out there to be fucked with.  Treasure it and feed it with goodness inside of you where it's safe.  It's a tricky little bastard that ego is.  Always throwing itself out there to defend you, react for you.  Keep it tucked in all safe where it can stop overreacting to shit.

Now what you have hopefully also learned are you own personal limits.  What made you give so much this was able to hit so hard?  Why you gave too much of yourself to another?  Remember, that ego is fragile, keep it safe.  Why did you just throw it out there all willy nilly like?  How rude.  Are you insecure?  Do you over give all the time so someone says the words "you're the best"?  And maybe if enough of them say it you might believe it?  If you've dropped your baggage off at the check in line, you won't need it quite so much but to be safe;

Why would they? It's nice to always be given shit.
A taker is not a bad person per say.  They are just receiving what you are offering.  Maybe it makes their day, week, month, life, minute easier so they grab and go.  And if you are a giver and are doing it for no other reason than to give, that's great.  But if you are waiting for positive affirmation from anyone other than yourself, you risk your ego, your pride, and we start from the top and work our way back down to now.  So maybe to be kinder to yourself you give a little less, in safer situations where you are not risking any part of "self".  Think about it. 

Here's an example:
Giving a homeless person a quarter feels good.  Give them a sandwich, feels great.  Give them a house and you're gonna feel fantastic.  But let's say they then trash that house never having thanked you for it in the first place.  Maybe they are bad homeless people or maybe in the throws of an addiction and don't know how to be good.  You've gone and done all this good and they are completely unable and ill equipped to do anything but ruin it. 
If you only gave to give and nothing more, you'll be fine.
If the ulterior motive was to feel good about yourself through them.....that's a risk YOU took with your own ego.  Don't blame the homeless guy who isn't equipped to do shit for you.  That's hardly fair. 

There is this whole positive thinking, Law of Attraction thing going around.  I believe in it.  I believe if you start the day of happy, in all likelihood it will end that way.  I believe if you do right by people, the world will do right by you.  But that's the catch, do right.  You cannot start the day off with a smile and a happy thought as you kick the neighbours cat.  Nor can you run around preaching you live a positive life as the cat secretly sits in the corner quietly licking the wounds you inflicted upon it.  You have to actually behave positively in life to have positive results.  You must be a good person to yourself and others, and that makes you a real, honest to goodness, what now????   Right, a good person. 

Today's lesson in short is this; 

You have baggage, we all do.  Do not let it dictate who you care for, how you behave, how you react, how you value yourself.  And be kind, to yourself.  If you are kind to yourself you won't need anyone else to do it for you.  You will never risk giving yourself to those that are not worthy if you care about yourself.  And you will in turn be treated the way you deserve to be treated.  You will have value if you value yourself.  And be good, to yourself and others.  If you are good, you are good.  End of story. 

Well not quite the end.  I do have to say no cats were hurt in the creation of this gem of wisdom and if you are going around secretly kicking cats you're a real asshole and I don't even like cats.

Okay I like this cat.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


When they wrote that line, "The life of...", and I named my dog, the two worlds collided into perfect unison because trust me when I say, you want this dog's life. 

Yup he's asleep, in his chair, in this position, all 100 pounds of him.
Riley is a Briard, a French sheep herder and he will be a spry young 10 in November.  I don't know how long he will live.  So far so good for a big breed like this, he's pretty much in perfect health.  I recently had his teeth done, you know veneers and the like, he is quite gorgeous now when he smiles.  No, seriously, he smiles.  But I am not crazy, least not on this topic, I had his teeth cleaned, broken ones removed, and a whole lotta old dog cysts tested.  BAM, perfect health.  I wanted nothing to get in the way of him living a long healthy pain free life.  Cause we've discussed it, he's gonna live until he's 22.  I will probably be in some sort of home/institution by then so it's all good.

Who's gorgeous? Well thank you, I am.

I know we all love our dogs.  I know some of us, more than others, are crazy.  I didn't know what true love really was until I got this dog.  My husband knows it, I admit it to him often.  "Honey I love you, I do.  I trust you, I would walk through fire for you but the dog, it's different.  The dog needs me, needs me to do things for him he cannot do.  He loves me whether I do them or I don't, he loves me cause I am his Mommy".  My husbands reply is always, "don't feed him for a day, see who he loves then".  Cynical ass. 

Everyone naps with their kids right?  He's a lap dog, can't you see it?

I don't have kids, not ones I bore and had since birth.  I am a step mom to two beautiful kids who have a full set of parents, I am just the added bonus adult in their world.  And I love them, with all my heart I do, but I also know, and I make sure everyone knows I know, that they have a Mom who loves them very much.  I need all involved in this tricky situation of divorce and new spouse that I respect and revere the roles the parents play, and the one I play.  Therefore, I only know that kind of love, a child/parent love, with my dog.  I met him almost from birth, and have loved him ever since.  He is my child, my furry child my Mother says.  She always asks, "how's my furry grandson?".  Sorry, I keep saying my dog, it's "our" dog.  My husband says he owns him too.  Yeah, cause that would stand up in court.  "Excuse me sir, when's the last time you spent 5 hours grooming the dog".  And custody is awarded too......  Now now, I am getting all worked up when today, I have no plans at all to leave the man I married.  He's doing well in this little class we call husbandry today.

See he's human. Told you. There he is, standing on two feet, checking shit out.

Riley was chosen from a perfect litter of amazing wee pups that I loved from the second I saw them.  In the amazingly clean, lovely, open home of the breeder who's kitchen was turned into a Mommy and puppy room.  I swear it was like a puppy nursery.  I could tell instantly how much the breeders loved their dogs and their dogs them.  Then they handed me this handy helpful tips book all about the breed and taking home a puppy.  They created it over the years for all their new owners.  Talk about the perfect place to get a dog from!  At the time I was dating my hubby so I allowed him to come with me to meet the puppies and pick one.  (Haha - "allowed him".  I crack myself up.  I needed Dan to be part of it, I already knew I was going to marry him, I knew the minute he told me he loved me. So picking a dog together was our first big "couple" move).  I knew I wanted a boy dog.  I knew one bitch in the house at a time was best for the future groom.  Dan knew he wanted a big dog.  Portuguese water dog was the smallest he said he wanted.  We both wanted a breed that didn't shed much, less allergies to deal with.  I had house sat for people who owned a male Briard.  I wanted a big boy like their Mister Smithers.  He was, like they say about Briards, a giant heart wrapped in fur.  Riley was easy to pick out for me anyways.  He was a little smaller than the rest and kept tripping over himself, falling down, rolling around.  Not a bloody care in the world that he looked like a drunken sailor.  When we found each other lying under their dining room table at the same time, nose to nose, and he fell over for no particular reason and I started to laugh with tears welling up in my eyes, I knew.  That was MY drunken sailor dog.  And Dan piped up with "Riley" almost immediately and it fit.  Wham, we got ourselves a dog.  CKC name Wotarukus All Riled Up, aka Riley.

Yep, you're mine, I'm yours.

Life with Riley has pretty much always been a joy.  You can't say owning a dog is easy or perfect, you just can't.  It's a perfect form of unconditional love, yes, but it's not always perfect.  There are times they won't listen. "Seriously dog, it's three more steps, COME HERE!".  Insert bubble over dog's head here; "Ahhh No sir-eee bitch, isn't this clear yet, I am not listening, na-na-na, I can't hearrrrr yoooouuu" *wags tail to ensure cuteness factor high*. Some times they will misbehave.  Bubble again please, "I most certainly did not know that sandwich was meant for you.  You left it, right there, on the coffee table.  I can reach that, you know that.  How could I not think it was for me? Duhhhh".  And at times they will piss you off. Bubble please; "Seriously, why aren't you listening to me. I said I want to play, NOW.  Not later.  RIGHT NOW.  No.  Did you seriously say NO?  Well here then, how'd that little herding nip feel?  Made ya look, made ya talk.  I don't care how loud it is, you are paying attention to moi, therefore, I WIN human, I WIN.  How you humans survive as a race is beyond us dogs?"  But you will always love them. 

Head shot bitches.  This dude's model ready.

The thing about my Briard, and just my Briard is....well wait, let me clarify first.  Don't be getting all "this is the standard for all Briards".  Mine is unique, one of a kind, special, exemplary, spectacular...well you get the drift.  He was raised perfectly, as he deserved.  Therefore he is one of a kind.  Sometimes the breeder says silly things like "that's a Briard for you" or "such a Briard".  What the heck does she know anyways, she's only had....well, a lot, of them, forever and ever?  Either or, statistics be damned, I am talking about MY Briard.  He is hysterical.  My husband and I laugh every single day because of this dog, never just once a day, often.

You've got a little something on your face, no, not there, over there, no there.

The older this dog gets, the more stubborn, the more obstinate, the more dramatic and the more vocal, he gets.  He pretty much puts sentences together now telling us when he refuses to do something he knows we are asking for, just doesn't wanna but wants to stay cute so wags his tail the whole time.  "Look at me defying you but I am so cute, you will just suck it up".

My dog hates to get wet.  His feet, first and foremost.  It was a fantastic feature to see him jump, (leap over in a single bound), a puddle as a pup.  And that was that.  All puddles, dirty, muddy, or clean, every dog for themselves fun, were not his friend.  Awesome as he is just a wee hairy to be muddy.  But at night when the dew is on the ground and I say "time for bed, let's have a hurry up" he will stand at the edge of the grass after placing one paw ever so gently on it and stare at me, tail wagging.  You can almost read his mind.  He is saying, "no thanks, aren't I cute, let's skip the wet grass and go to bed, I will be okay, I am good with holding it as long as I need to until the grass, dries".  And he will.  The next mid morning, afternoon even, depending on his highness's schedule he will pee for so long he has to change the lifted leg midway through as his up leg gets too tired to hold up that long.  I've seen him have the right leg up, the left leg up, then put them both down and squat like a girl he's held it so long.  I could read a good magazine while I wait.  Don't get me wrong, I could raise my voice and give the "NOW" command and he would break into song and dance if I asked this way.  He is very obedient.  It's just that I figure why get mad at him, he knows the drill, the schedule, the words, what's gonna happen and he has a choice.  No really, he's a dog. 

Oh yeah, that's right you just read an entire paragraph on my dog urinating.  Who's the silly one now?  I promise, there will be no talk of poop.

Riley has started several new odd little behaviours in the last 3 years and they are as follows:

1) He speaks full dog language, which we are trying to learn, and basically he never stops talking.  Morning, noon, night and even, 3,4,5 am for NO reason at all.  No need to go out, just standing at the side of my bed looking at me, tail wagging, talking away like Chewbacca on Star Wars.  We go out, he does nothing but lie down and admire the stars.  He just didn't want to sleep and thought I should join him.

This is how his highness requests dinner.  Right up in one's face, tail a waggin', basically asking for din din, he is talking as you can tell.

2) He began smiling when he is happy to see someone or you tell him he might see someone soon.  "You know who's coming to see you, Emma.  Emma's coming to see you".  This one gets him the best.  Just by telling him she's coming he starts smiling he's so happy.  He will smile and launch up so his front paws are on my shoulders and he smiles, and kisses, smiles and kisses.  It's a full on, frontal teeth baring but it's for happy purposes.  It's ridiculous and everyone loves it.  He makes everyone he loves laugh hysterically.  When the cleaning lady comes, he runs down the hall to greet her and I know the minute he smiles as she starts laughing hysterically saying "and I'm happy to see you too Riley Roo".

He just woke up = tongue out AND he was happy to see a favorite guest. 

3) When he sleeps or even is just tired really, his tongue no longer fits in his mouth.  Normally it does, when he is tired it literally falls out of his mouth. And if he is tired enough you can call his name, he will lift his head and look you in the eye with his drooping sleepy eyes with at least an inch worth of tongue sticking straight out at you. 

Your honor, I ask to submit this picture as evidence piece number 1.

Numero 2.

And 3.
"Yeah I am awake...NOW.  Yes it fits, I just don't care to put it back in my mouth, deal with it.  Okay I said it already, I AM UP!".

Today I was in the kitchen baking with my IPod playing, loud.  When 'Like a Virgin' came on the radio I just happened to be on my hands and knees.... ( speaking of dogs, you dirty dogs, the husband isn't even home!).  Like I was saying, I was wiping the floor and I started to sing, at the top of my lungs.  The dog for no apparent reason, as my voice is delightful, bolted from a side lie to an upright sit and stared at me, an inch of his tongue sticking out at me.  As everyone would do in this situation I began the *crawls across the stage move* that most professional singers such as myself use in their choreography.  When I reached the dog, nose to nose, he let out one huge assed bark and flopped back down to the side lie position.  It was clearly a "STOP THAT NOISE".  I laughed so hard ma' belly hurt.  Which of course made him start pawing and talking to me more.  When I laugh too hard he thinks its him that's made a funny and he will flop to the side lie position and start pawing and growling, then roll onto his back, paw at the air, growl, etc.  Once I stop laughing, he usually stops too.  I know its because he knows the English human language and gets the joke.  The only reason he doesn't speak the human English language is out of choice.  I am sure of it.  He is that smart.  One day he is gonna say, "it's 9am lady, let's get the breakfast procedures underway shall we?".  I wonder if he will actually have a French accent?  Oh that and the porn bill I got from Amazon was not my husband but the dog, I am sure of it.  Least I hope so or the hubby and I need to talk about a place for him to go, like now, for up to 90 days.  When the cats away...... the dog looks up porn.

"What's this lap dog thing you speak of, me thinky me likey.  Ready Mom, here I come!"

I am not kidding when I say this dog talks.  Ask a friend of mine who babysits him.  She walked past him shirtless once getting dressed and he smiled as he does when he sees people he loves, then he sneezed while talking.  It literally sounded like he laughed a human laugh at her.  I feel bad, I am not sure she's over it yet.  It was 3 years ago.  I have asked him to apologize, he smiles and laughs at me.  What can ya' do?  Kids today.

"OMG that's hilarious. HILARIOUS.  Oh. Can't. Stop. Laughing.  Stop, please make it stop."

I don't want to spend hours and hours talking about my dog.  Tons of people hate that shit. Mind you they hate when you talk about your kids too.  Oh that's right, cause they are usually bitter old nags with no prospects of either.  *giggle*.

This whole story was basically to tell you about my Madonna dog moment today.  One big "shut the hell up woman, trying to sleep here" moment makes a girls day so much more bright!  Well that and fresh baked goodies. 

Have a good one peeps and remember, if you can't say anything nice, shut the fuck up already, the dog speaks enough for both of us.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Banker's Box - F*ck you!

A banker's box is a cardboard box, used by banker's.  Sounds simple right?  You would think so with those hours them banker's keep, they don't have much time to spare, so these have to be simple.

See this, there's even a tutorial.  Simple.


Wasn't the fucking banker's box I had though now was it?

Nope.  Wasn't.

I had this one.

Pretty enough right.  Mine's even made from recycled paper, no dyes, just cardboard and directions printed on it. 

Fuckwads.  I could find my way to fucking Timbuktu easier.

See that separate lid? That's what fucks with you.  I tried making the box without actually removing the lid part first. 

Whatev's, you fucking try it.

This is what it looks like now.

Well the last part of it. 

The tearing, stomping part I kept between us, me and the box.  What goes on between me and my box stay's at home.

The last part, that final piece, I had a ceremony for and took this picture just for you.

I need my own mailroom, those guy's are smarter than banker's.  They snap those boxes together like they know their way around box (es).

I am going to have nightmares.  I will be trapped in one, not able to get out.  I know it.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Miley Cyrus....I refuse to say the word that rhymes with "working"....

Here's the thing, this dance everyone's doing and talking about was created by my friend Michele "the Bullet" we named her years ago.  She's been grabbing her ankles shakin' what mamma gave her, shakin' her money maker, since I met her 15, maybe 20 years ago.  Why all the sudden everyone is talking about it like it's a new thing is beyond me.  It's like that Harlem thing, let's move on.  Please god help me, move on.

To that point though, if everyone is doing it, why then is it shocking a 20 year old would do it?  Or that a 20 year old might get high and do it?  At a bar or on stage, she's been on stage all her life, to her it's like going to a bar.  So that's the dancing part answered, she's 20 and was likely wasted.  Oh and it's the MTV awards, not Kids Choice, not the Grammy's, not the Oscars.  It's a stupid show about Music Video's.  Music Video's where some dudes slap women's asses, roll around in money, and smoke pot in a $100 bill.  Get it?  Hardly shocking.  And they win awards like "best doobie in a video".

Anyone remember Rhianna and Britney doing "whips and chains make me horny" or something or other.  Rhianna writhing on a hand outstretched through the stage, both of them tied in whips and chains.

Or Britney and Madonna tonguing each other, a lot.

Why is the fact that a 20 year old road a foam finger and ground her badonkadonk against a man's junk so terrifying?  Especially a man who just made a farce music video where he posts the fact he has a big dick and rubs all over naked women.  Just for the sake of getting his name out there ala shock value.  Did I mention I love that stupid bloody song?  It's awfully catchy that tune.

This is where we are at people, get used to it.  Simply teach our kids how it's all in the name of humour and ridiculousness.  You can't possibly take it seriously.  And neither should they.  That musicians are hardly the idols or role models they should be looking to.  How about your local fireman, cop, or wait, the parent.  Let's have our kids model themselves after something in the real world and not the fantasy bullshit of music or Disney kids gone wild.  You can't possibly be taking this shit serious, are you?  How can you? 

If you can't let go this kid is no longer Hannah Montana....really?  That was a TV show right?  You know that?  That there are no real Witches of Eastwick or Wizards of Waverly Place.   That the Young and the Restless is not factual, kids do not actually grow in dog years.  You know this right?

Here's what Miley herself said;

"I don't pay attention to the negative because I've seen this play out so many times," she told in an interview that took place just three days after her much-talked about performance with Robin Thicke. "How many times have we seen this play out in pop music?"

"Madonna's done it. Britney's done it. Every VMA performance, that's what you're looking for; you're wanting to make history," she added. "What's amazing is I think now, we're three days later and people are still talking about it. They're over thinking it."
You are over thinking this.  You made history alright girl.  As one of the silliest performances ever but pretty cool as high as you probably were you didn't fall over, not once!  Good for you girl.

As I said earlier, this is no longer Hannah Montana and if you expect her to be you are going to be sadly let down.  See time passes, people age, sometimes they even change.  She is not for little girls anymore, it's not appropriate and even she knows it.  She doesn't want to be any one's role model, she's screamin' I am 20, move on!  If you don't I will continue to shock you until you do.  I am 20!

Did you know she and Thicke agreed to NO, none, not a minute of rehearsals?  They were just going have fun, be stupid and enjoy it.  His wife thought it hysterical and yet half the world is talking about it.  How society is changing.  Would you like to know what's changing society?  What you should be worrying about?  It's not Miley Cyrus, but the nuclear waste seeping into the worlds oceans and seas from Japan.  The power of China and North Korea.  That scares me more than a kid humping a giant teddy bear.  Or maybe you could worry about the USA's economic mess.  All that shit; that's changing the world.  If you think it's Miley Cyrus, I think you should look to Honey Boo Boo.  Start there and work your way UP to Cyrus.

And frankly if I want to shake my ass at a giant teddy bear and hump a spongy finger I will damn well do so.  I am not showing either disrespect, in fact, I am showing them love.  See how you can spin that.  Or you can choose to put way too much importance on a sponge finger.  That scares me a bit.  How is a sponge finger indicative of today's world??  I am betting the finger loved it. 

Everyone needs to stop and realize least Cyrus did not turn out like this Disney gem:

Damn it, this picture scares the crap outta me each time I see it.  Every single time.  And I know it's there, I PUT it there.  Akkkkk.

Or this little gem:

5 arrests later, 90 days in rehab....let's see how she holds it together, hopefully better than this dress is holding her.

And then back to Miley.  Oh no, she's riding a giant ball.

Look at her figure, does she look sick to you?  Like she's not taking care of herself?   Like she's a meth addict or psychotic (see above).  The song's called Wrecking Ball, kinda makes sense she's on a .....look at that, a Wrecking Ball.

This is Rhianna on Instagram.  All her fans, including teens are on Instagram and this is one of her posts.  I think she lost part of her shorts.  This cannot be comfortable, at all. 

But god help us Miley is acting 20!!!

The only problem I have with all of this is Miley's tongue.  I find it annoying that it's always out.  Put that fucking thing back in your mouth or have it shortened if it doesn't fit or I might just find you and staple that damn thing back in already.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

IMPORTANT NEWS - I said IMPORTANT so bloody well read it!

I have been away for a bit so I haven't had a chance to comment on all the news as of late and it's important I do so.  This post will be a little longer than normal as there's so much going on in the world that is of the utmost importance.  (But fear not, there's a ton of pictures and little reading, just the way you like it and you know it!)

I'mmmmm baaaaack.

The haircut on the left is a real haircut.  The one on the right is from a movie about really dumb guys.  I need not provide my personal opinion of the picture on the left.

Finally after many wigs, demands for people to murder her va-jay-jay, bong drops, and sandals and socks *oh no*, Amanda Bynes visitation to her local psychiatry department has been extended.  I am so pleased.  It's costly to fly to Cali and slap (can you say "bail money") parents in the face.

The gal on the left is a bazillionaire because her sister made a sex tape, the guy on the right plays some sort of sport and makes more money than he should as per most professional something or others.  So much money in fact he's apparently become a drug addict and has checked himself into rehab.  I want to go to rehab. I bet it's lovely.  I mean so many celebs seem to think so!

See that speck of white, not the shirt in the upper left, over to the right.  That's Justin Bieber's (I'd look up the spelling if I gave a shit) underwear.  They sit on his waist, where his pants belong.  And there's the leather shirt, "WRONG", open to show his man child hairless chest.  I believe he is avoiding being punched for that I think, the whole outfit, in Toronto, by someone ashamed he's Canadian.  I think that's the story.

This is Mother of the Year for 2013, Lindsay Lohan's mother, Something or other Lohan (really I think that's her name).  The picture is from the party she threw for her daughter's successful stint and return from rehab (see commentary above about my next vacation).  What a great mommy, this bitch be classy.

50s Shades of me thinks you might have picked the wrong leads.  Then again, I didn't see Mr. Paint my Abs on, as Edward Cullen either so whadda I know?

I think this is bloody fantastic and can only assume it was the hormone therapy followed by a lot of hard word.  Way to go Chaz!

I have no idea who this is but allegedly he slapped a fan and is being charged with assault which I would be too if I met him cause I would want to slap those stupid teeth right outta his mouth.

You have Bi Polar and never get any oral sex girl.  No wonder you look so unhappy.  For fuck sakes eat a sandwich and kick that cancer blaming arse to the curb.

Apparently he has a stalker.  I have no idea why as this is not the boy who once held a boom box over his head.  He kinda looks like a bit of a truck driving ministerial serial killer now.  Maybe the stalker was a cult member mistaken for a stalker?

I am shocked to learn this is the same man, in the Senate, that picked Sarah Palin as his Vice Presidential candidate. Shocked I say, shocked.  Actually I am a little shocked it's not Candy Land, or Crush Candy, or some other stupid game they've had to create an Anonymous recovery group for.

Bieber's car.  Spell it out kids, D U M B A S S.

Later that day in the studio.  "No really I am fine.  My tongue, what about it?  It's still there right?  Here check.  There?  Excellent, let's sing some shit then!"

Work done or no work done.  Famous for sex tape or not famous for a sex tape.  Ya' look good girl and I love the hair.  Now only if we could get you to stop saying stupid shit like "the President's name is what now?" or my favorite, "what's my body doing?".  Girl you are knocked up, it's growing a baby honey.

Her name is there cause I don't know who she is other than she is married to some has been actor 3 times her age.  What I like about the photo is that she has apparently never left her original passion for pole.  A little girl has to 'hang' onto her dreams.

This is Abercrombie's rules regarding proper hair.  This dude is a total ass.  This is actually real.  I love picture number one, I would rock that cut.  Thinking about it and taking my large oversized ass into a store and holding a séance in the name of chunky girls with highlights everywhere.

I am so very disturbed about how much I want to sexually deviate the lead actor in my step kid's High School Musical DVDs.  But seriously, look up the trailer for "Neighbours" and I hope you get the trailer with the airbags in it, hilarious.

This is Kevin Smith.  Kevin and Ben Affleck are best buds.  Kevin is a comic freak and basically found Affleck, "made" Affleck.  See Mallrats and Chasing Amy.  Kevin is so excited Affleck might be Batman its quite hysterical.  I reserve judgement on Affleck being Batman but love me some Smith giddy about it.

Honest to shit I thought she was dead.  My bad.

Urban is talented.  I like Lopez, can't help it I do.  She's got personality.  And Connick I would hump on ANY given day with your whoo haww if mine was broken.  And he's hysterically funny so I think this might just be okay.  I told you.  This is earth shattering shit going on here.

Pretty sure their marriage is okay, she's hotter than he is even if he has a 'BIG DICK'.  And if you don't find the Blurred Lines video funny, being it IS a total farce from start to finish, you take life way to seriously.  Put your big girl granny panties on and turn off MTV then. 

I hope this kid just continues on life as she has without that stupid fucking Canadian kid and keeps it classy.  She is gorgeous, a good role model, her music's okay and I don't have to tell my kid "don't stick yer tongue out like that all the time or people will think it doesn't fit in your mouth".

This is that stupid Canadian kid I was talking about.  His tank or 'wife beater' as it's known commonly as, is that long because his pants are held up by the tip of, what I can only assume is, a tiny penis.

Mary Kate Olsen, half owner of the empire with her twin worth a billion dollars, and step mother basically to the taller girl on her right.  Yeah, the one that looks the same age as her.  Yep, it's creepy. 

Does this kid know he is white?  Has anyone told him yet?  I am not being racist, I am concerned for his identity.

Gwen Stefani called and wants her look back and she is pisssssed you shredded her shorts bitch.

Mermaids died so she could wear this.  RIP.

Boyfriend and Girlfriend.  Again, creepy.  Maybe it's the onesie.

A day after birth, "OMG she's still got a baby in there, look at that stomach on her...blah blah bullshit blah".  One month later "OMG did she have a baby?".  Listen you fucks, she had a baby in her stomach and appears to be healthy young woman.  End of story.

I feel bad for her.  It's more than obvious she's had a urinary tract infection for the last 10 years or so.  Look at that face, it screams "my whoo haaw burns".

Justin, I need you to step in and dress up your doll more often, and better please.

Can't. Find. Words.

Well fucking play Miss Aniston, well fucking played.  *yum yum yummy*

Guy's a douche.  Apparently they've split and swapped partners.  BLECK.  Partner swapping?  What did she swap for, someone 91 who doesn't talk to chairs?

Dear Miss Bobblehead, C H E E S E B U R G E R.  Try one.  Just one.


Who's prettier, me or Johnny?  Well why don't we 'do' each other and see if we can come to a conclusion.  Better than that gap toothed French thing.

I woke up this morning and my name was Miss Gaga, say it all hoity toity please.  Tomorrow, who knows who I will be.  Some people take meds for this and others perform in a G string.  No no, not a stripper it's Gaga, you know the one, named for something stuck in your throat.

Hmmmm, maybe I can see it after all.  "Well hello there Mr. Grey, pass the handcuffs please".

If these flip up stupid glass/sunglass things come back in style I will hurt her, with nothing but my mind cause my mind will have that much pain in it.

Her name is Madonna, get over it.

Paulina Gretzky prior to engagement.

Found one!!! Insert clothes back on here.

And today my name is "ooops wonder if the spa will charge me for the cuc's I left with". (sorry for the poor choice of words but the glasses are retarded, it's the only word that truly does this justice).

I have never been more OVER anything than I am these granny panty looking things.  I resent them.   As a chunky monkey I feel anyone not a chunky monkey should be flaunting what god gave 'em not hiding the shit up.

I am sorry sir but I can't read the rest of your tattoo, I will have to ask you to remove your swim trunks. 

DUDE!  Look up his MTV Movie Awards speech.  Best ever!  Get off your ass kids, ain't nothin' free!

The only two times this girl has ever looked better is when she basically stuck her tongue out at "that Canadian kid" or when she told that other boy band Wrong Direction to "shut the fuck up". 

And that is your world news to date.  Happy to help.  Have a wonderful evening. Your welcome.

Picture credits "shout outs" go to Pink is the New Blog, TMZ and Popsugar.  All of which I get all my world news from.