Showing posts from October, 2008

Why I don't like Old People.

I used to live in a condo across the street from the beach in south Florida. Our condo (filled to the fucking brim with old, crotchety people) had entered into a contract with the condo across the street (which was also conveniently filled to the brim with assholes). The contract gave our residents legal access to the path to the beach.

At least once a week some crabby jackass would stick his liver spotted head out of the window and scream, "GET OFF MY BEACH!!!"

The weird thing is that we weren't even ON the beach yet. We were always screamed at just when we were opening the gate. The other weird thing is that the Crotchety Window Yellers never, EVER used their own beach. They sat inside of their dark condo with their asses sweating on the plastic cover on their sofas, just indescribably pissed off that someone was having a nice beachy day.

One of the reasons we left Florida was because I started developing a prejudice against old people. I'd see some old fucker scowlin…


I wonder who the first guy was to put the word "POSTED" on a trespassing sign. The original signs had probably been bothering him for years.

"It's just not enough!" he'd exclaim to his wife. "It needs something...MORE. Something that says 'Hey you nare-do-well! Get the hell outta here before someone busts a cap in your ass!"

Hence, the birth of the "POSTED No Trespassing" sign. Whenever I see one of these signs nailed on a tree or fence I think, "No shit you're posted. There is a nail through the top of you thereby literally posting you onto your tree." It is like putting a "HUNG UP" sign at the top of paintings in a museum.

And what's with adding "KEEP OUT"?! You've already said no trespassing and needlessly announced that your sign is posted. The message can only be delivered so many times, people.

Just a little off the top, please.

My husband wanted two kids. I wanted three. We had two girls and he thought that was perfect. I wanted just one more little one.... We discussed it. We debated it. He scoffed. I pleaded - all to no avail.

Until we went to Mexico. A few gallons of Margarita's later and the next thing you know - Hello, Sailor! - now we have Thing Three. Everyone agrees that he perfectly complements our family. But if my husband could have had a vasectomy as they were finishing up my C-section I'm sure he would have happily done so.

Sagely he waited until I was capable of walking across the room before scheduling his appointment. When I told him that I would drive him he seemed surprised but didn't argue. The girls were in school and I brought the baby with me who I knew would sleep throughout. (Besides, everybody knows that men who are going to have their penis operated on LOVE to have their kids around them.)

The hubs was determined but anxious. He signed in and we made nervous chit-chat, tryi…

And The Strep Goes Marching Two By Two, Hoorah, Hoorah....

Why is it that at least once a year, strep throat marches through my house and knocks every last one of us on our ass? The only symptom we get is fatigue and maybe a headache or sore throat.

So here I am, trying bravely to go out and do my business while ignoring my lazy tendencies when it turns out I'm not lazy after all. I've just been out spreading the Strep Love. Well...maybe I'm a little lazy. But I'm a lot streppy.

I've been on the antibiotic for about 18 hours now and hope that any minute now I'll spring off of the sofa, anxious to get a jump on the laundry "situation" that has my kids scouring the dirty hamper for "not too gross" socks in the mornings. (Dare to dream.)

Oh, Moderates...come out, come out, where ever you are!

Where the FUCK are all of the moderate politicians?! Is THIS really the best and brightest our country has to offer???

I have Robin Hood to the left of me. And I have the Christian Coalition to the right of me. This is ridiculous.

Obama discussed "redistribution of wealth" at the last Presidential debate. I was talking to a good friend last night and I said that this gave me concern. She responded, "Bex! It won't affect you because you don't make more than $250,000! So you don't have to worry about that!"

She's right. We don't earn anywhere near that amount. But does that make it ok? I know people who have started companies, risked everything they own, and worked for free for years trying to make it what it is today. And now, they should be taxed further than they already are? How, exactly, is this not punishing the hardworking and successful?

My brother sent me an email today that I think brings this point home. Nobody knows who wrote it. But I wis…

Hey there Joe - Whadya know??

I tried to watch the whole debate last night. Really. But a girl can only take so much bullshit. It was the same old rhetoric from both sides with the additional worry that Senator John McCain, an American hero, was going to lift off of the stage and fly away because his eyelids were blinking so fast. Poor guy.

And then somebody said it, "...blah, blah, blah...Joe the Plumber...blah, blah, blah..."

My ears perked up - Joe the Plumber?! Who the hell is that?! And is he any relation to the elusive Joe Six Pack, I wonder??

My curiosity was piqued. So I googled it and have for your a picture of him. Ladies and Gentlemen! I give you...JOE the Plumber!

Whoops! I think he prefers it if you catch him from the other side:

There he is. This guy has become the face (and butt crack) of the redistribution of the wealth argument. All because Obama was walking through the neighborhood, spreading the Good News about his candidacy and Joe walked up to him and said something like, "Hey...quit…

Battle of the Blowhards!

Oh crap. It's another fucking debate. WHY?! Is it possible that they have changed their retarded rhetoric from the last time? No. It is, in fact, not possible.

Tonight will be more of the same. You have the Bex guaranty on that, my friends.

In fact, you have my campaign promise* that I will shoot a monkey out of my ass if any of the following things are stated tonight:

1. One time, at the zoo, I met a jackass. And you, Sir, are a total jackass.
2. I have no fucking clue what to do! It's such a cluster fuck already that I can't even imagine where to start. (and then his shoulders start shaking with the sobs)
3. Candidate one says, "You make me feel funny." Candidate two says, "I wish I knew how to quit you."

Meh. The hubs and I, comme d'habitude, are having a drinking game to force ourselves to watch the ensuing train wreck.

A sip of wine for:

1. Maverick
2. Billion
3. Geriatric

A gulp of wine for:

1. Acorn
2. Ayers
3. Keating

And, if at any time you feel a wave of…

Watch Out For the Pipe Wrench...

Calling all kids from the 80's! Have you seen this video? Some guy (with TONS of time on his hands) took the A-ha video 'Take On Me' and changed the lyrics to what is literally happening. It's pretty funny....

I am now going into the attic to dig up my boy toy belt, lace gloves, multiple neon socks to wear with black heels. I am going down...not in a Blaze of Glory but rather a Blaze of Nostalgia. Ah, the 80's.

Back then if you had told me that America would befriend Russia, my brother would go to Moscow where he would study and meet his future wife, well, I probably would have laughed. And now we're not friends with Russia again. Go figure.

The totally tubular feed to the humor-blogs site is, like, so totally here!

Bad Stove, Bad Stove - Whatcha Gonna Do? Watcha Gonna Do When They Come For You?

Sit down, pour yourself a drink and catch THIS shit.

A woman in Washington State was cooking dinner when she was suddenly shot in the leg. When I read this I was immediately reminded of the 80's show, Dallas. Who the hell would shoot a cooking woman??!

Was it...
An ungrateful but hungry child?
A pissed off husband, determined to never eat that goddamned meatloaf again?
The envious neighbor who is jealous of her award winning road kill pie?

It sure as hell wasn't JR. No, it turns out that the stove itself shot her. Yes, I know this doesn't sound possible. If a stove could have feelings of murderous rage, my GE would have doubtlessly busted a cap in my ass years ago. But I think we can safely say that stoves don't have feelings. Plus? They don't have opposable thumbs, making pulling the trigger extremely difficult (so they say).

There are, apparently, three quick steps to getting a cap busted in your leg by your stove:

1. Purchase a case of bullets.
2. Spill said bullets in t…

Tinky, Stinky, Who Wants a Drinky???

Your girl's getting loose on Grey Goose...

Yep - you guessed it! It's the next installment of the Master-Debater Drinking Game!

I'm late today, so I'm just gonna get fast and dirty and go to the rules. Take a stiff sip of your cocktail if anybody says any of the following:


If anybody says any of the following comments, drain the whole damn thing down:

"Lipstick on a Pig"
"Horse of a Different Color"
"You Sir, Are a Jackass."

It's really a game for the whole family if you think about it. I'm already slurring. Let's get it ON.

And when you get tipsy, go drunk surfing at and get your giggles ON.

Bite this, Baby Charlie!

I have a friend who is new to computers and the internet. She has begun the habit of forwarding "really hilarious" emails to me. These are the same emails that I thought were "really hilarious" ten years ago when I first received and then forwarded them.

At first I feigned interest because I was happy to see her explore the wild world web with her youthful excitement and enthusiasm. But that only lasted until she sent me an email with the following concluding statement: "Forward this onto your 10 closest friends or someone at MicroSoft will eat a baby!" (Or something like that.)

Anyway, I fear that the following video is something along the same vein. It came out a year ago, so maybe you guys have already seen it and I'm recycling old news. But right now, right here, I don't really give a shit. Because it's FUNNY.

The feed to humor-blogs is right here, yo.

How to f*ck up a kid in five short minutes.

My kids get their hair cut at a little boutique that specializes in children. Pretty much anybody who goes there is uber preppy and, if they are a girl, has a ginormous pink (or white) bow in her hair. The moms are very preppy, also. Everyone but me, of course. [Cuz I'm too gangsta to be preppy, yo. Well...I might be a little preppy. Let's say that my preppy:gangsta ratio is roughly 6:4. Something like that, depending on the moment, the beverage and whether or not there is a disco ball in the room.]

In the middle of the little store there is a table with a train on it. My son LOVES the train and always makes a beeline for it and grumbles loudly when it's his turn to have his hair cut. Today was no exception. While his hair was being cut J. Crew must have temporarily closed their doors because a huge group of alpha moms and their Soon-To-Be-World-Leaders offspring showed up.

There must have been 10 kids ranging between 3 and 4 milling about with the girls standing out because…

Mr. Clean. Inject your foot with Botulism. Farting Outside. Ass meds. All in one post. THAT, Folks, is why they pay me the BIG bucks.

Man. I had a hard time figuring out what to write about today. It's kind of scattered....

Mr. Clean died. I thought about writing how I couldn't possibly clean my house out of respect for his passing. But then I thought, "Nah, they'll know that's bullshit. I can't possibly clean my house because I can't vacuum while blogging on my laptop."

Then I saw that Sharon Stone is in a custody battle for her kid. Her ex-husband said that she's unfit because, when they noticed that their kid had a foot odor problem, Sharon's solution was to get him Botox injections in the feet. Poor kid. She'd probably schedule it after his colonic but before his Scientology "briefing" (aka brain washing). The ex further demonstrated his parental strengths by stating his solution was to get the kid to wear socks and put powder in his shoes.

How weird. We actually have a kid with stinky feet. And just this morning I insisted - over great resistance - that said …