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 trying to take my money - I worked hard for it."

Obama tried to explain to him that he needs the extra taxes on the "wealthy" to bolster the people underneath, so we can all have a chance to prosper. The plumber called bullshit, stating that nobody had bolstered him up. He did it himself and now that he finally has something going The Man should increase his taxes?!

The exchange between them took a few minutes. Then, Joe went back to throwing a football around with his kid. Next thing you know, his name is mentioned a couple dozen times during the final Presidential debate and he has instantly become an International Celebrity/Plumber.

Apparently there were many big news trucks parked outside of his house last night. How bizarre that must seem. Now this morning he has to get up and go fix toilets and solder pipes together and stuff. The people behind will be whispering, "Pssst...you know that is not just any plumbers crack...it's JOE the Plumber's crack! It's a celebrit-butt!"

Oh, and I found a picture of a Joe Six Pack Wanna Be. He's dead sexy.

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Florida: The Good. The Bad. The Holy SHIT!!!

So you know...I live in Florida now. The good news is that my southern accent is stronger than ever - I think it was some sort of defense mechanism...of or for what, I have no idea. I definitely miss Atlanta and my friends, though, especially now. Spring in Atlanta is SO beautiful. But Florida is pretty nice, too. We go to the beach at least once a week and we all love having a pool in the backyard. Also, my husband makes me a Planter's Punch every night and I don't even feel guilty by knocking it back - we're on vacation, right?? A couple of weeks ago I was reading the news and saw this weird picture: In case your eyes can't make sense of it, I'll give you a hint. It's not a puppy. I'm guessing it's not an air freshener, either. It is, in fact, a Burmese Python that ruptured and now has a really big dead Alligator sticking out of it's stomach. Oh, and something ate the snakes head off. That's why there is no head there. National Geographic has

Oooohhh...I just LOVE when you wrap it around me... do it again, please?

I had heard that "crack" kills. I just never really believed it until I saw it with my own eyes. (Bless his heart.) About 3 years ago I was 6 months pregnant and had two daughters (aged 4 and 5). We were all traveling from Bellingham, WA to Atlanta, GA with a VERY brief layover in Dallas. We were booked on a major airline that should remain anonymous as they are a bunch of asshats (but they rhyme with "Mamerican Mairlines") and we had to leave for the airport at 3:30 AM in order to catch our 7AM flight. It was Suck City. By the time our car arrived in Seattle my husband and I were barely speaking to each other and the girls had marks on their faces and arms from the backseat smack-down they had while out of our reach. When I went to the counter to speak with the representative she informed me that even though our seats had been purchased many months ago and seat assignments had been given all of that had changed and we were no longer sitting together as a family. I

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke

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