Monday, October 25, 2010

Acts of God

Looks like fall is officially here.  The weather turned craptacular over the weekend.  The winds blew.  The rains rained.  It got cold.  I wore flannel.

It rained so hard in the night that there was some damage.  Not to anything I care about thankfully. 

No...Mother Nature rocked the vote and removed political signs from peoples yards and businesses.  You shouldn't mess with Mother Nature. 

Most of the signs for the highly contentious race for city council seats got blown out to the desert which is where they are going to end up anyway after election day.  That's where they burn the town's garbage.  A little tax money saved in waste removal for the little guy since those damned things are grouped by the dozens on every street corner and vacant lot. 

You would think that since I live in Nevada that I would care about the upcoming elections.  I do to a point.  The point is that everyone's gone crazy and I'm in agreement with an act of God. 

In the nationally covered Senate race I could vote for this brand of crazy:


Harry Reid has years of experience in wackadoo.

...Or I could vote for this brand of crazy:


Sharron Angle is fairly new to the institution but she looks promising.

It's difficult for me to decide who to vote for in these trying political times.  Mostly because the news stations I receive come out of Utah and they don't give a flip about Nevada candidates even though one is a Mormon and the other is fresh off the set of Big Love.

What I know about their crazy has come from the internets and YouTubes.

You look sort of Asian to me.

No, wait, I've also been educated by political phone calls.  Sharron Angle's posse called to invite me to attend some sort of shindig at the county seat.  When I politely declined on the basis that I live 120 miles away the caller said, "Oh, you're out there!  I didn't know you were so far!" to which I retorted, "Harry Reid's been to my town.  Does Sharron Angle even know where I live?  We're the only casino based town to turn a profit this year."

"Uh uh..."

Truthfully I don't think either of these crazies can find their own nostrils with their fingers when whistling in their noses gets too loud.

That's why I consider it an act of patriotism to wipe a booger on every campaign sign that's still standing.  Yeah, I'll perform my civic duty and cast an informed vote but I'll also keep my nose clean.

It's the least I can do in the age of reason.



Thursday, October 21, 2010

Nanny nanny boo boo

I've been sewing today...

And trying to convince cats to not nap on anything I've sewn.

Since I've been very busy, have some goat porn.


You're welcome.

Monday, October 18, 2010

I like 'em green and the size of dinner plates.

I've mentioned here a time or two that the good Lord above did not bless me with large breasts, or even medium breasts.  The good Lord above bequeathed me with a small chest.  And one side is way smaller than the other.

In other words, my boobs are normal boobs.  Funny looking.  Really spectacular breasts are a human anomaly or human invention, molded from silicone.  Most of us ladies have boobs that we think look like lumps of play-dough after a day at the daycare.  Including the hairs.

So when I heard a gaggle of ten year boys just a giggling over "how they like 'em" after school today, I almost felt proud.  Maybe these boys are getting over the hump of over advertised and airbrushed overt sexuality just right after discovering this stuff even exists.  A mother could hope.  I certainly don't want my own sons to think that the women they should chase after are plastic and have no preferences, even if they have perfect chests.

These boys?  They know.  When one says he likes 'em "crooked" and the other one likes 'em "like donuts" and then they all burst into gales of laughter, I figure that maybe normal will prevail instead or something more porny.

Not that I've ever been exposed to anything so lurid.  No no no no no.  I'm telling the judge I'm innocent.

Just the idea of human variety, even if it does produce giggles, that's a big idea.  A big flat crooked glazed idea.  We'll get past the joking eventually.

Ahh the days of staring at National Geographics...maybe not over.  And that's perfectly well and good. 

Now, let's see what's been recorded on my keylogger lately.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

A short post that does not rhyme.

I'm sitting on my third floor room at the Red Lion Hotel and Casino in Elko.  It has a balcony.

All the rooms have balconies though.  Even the first floor rooms.  I imagine that you could jump off my balcony and do a fair amount of damage to yourself but the first floor rooms are a little useless in that department.

My five year old has just looked into the bureau drawer, because all things in a hotel room are fascinating because it's not home, and exclaimed "Books!" at the discovery of the yellow pages and the Gideon Bible.  All light switches have been turned on and off multiple times and we have all removed the plastic wrap from the drinking glasses and had a sip of softened water.  I have not allowed them to use the coffee maker or the wall mounted blow dryer.

I have a fine view of Idaho Street and all the 35 mph traffic therein.  I'm within walking distance of a McDonalds, a Wendy's, a grocery store with a decent selection of hard liquor and a lemonade stand offering pamphlets on how a responsible citizen of this country can impeach Obama and vote for "anyone butt Harry Reid."

I got hit on at the registration desk.  Bonus.

Well...time to go.  We came here to listen to a poet and I have to keep moving so the republicans don't get a whiff of it. 

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Bibbitty Bobbity Boo Hoo Hoo

I swear I didn't purposely rub my nose over asphalt.

My nose only looks like raw meat because I removed a wart.

Yes, you Halloween fun-haters, you no trick or treat on a Sunday weenies, I had a wart on my nose.  Keep your witchy quips to yourself.  Besides my nose being sore you'll hurt my feelings.

Sniff.  My ancestors are mostly English and pale.  We all run the risk of lumps on our faces.  I cannot help it.

What really happened is that I burned off my wart with the use of bandages and apple cider vinegar.  Since this wart was on the tip of my nostril, the bandage had to be bigger and the vinegar also burned off most of my skin on the right side.  Sure, I could have burned it off using an over the counter method but that would require I shell out money when I already have vinegar and bandages in my pantry.  I also have a glass jar full of oats and another full of cornmeal in my pantry too.  Not good for wart removal though.

Last week I recommended this form of wart removal to a likewise wart infested individual and then realised that I was a big old warty hypocrite.  I've removed another wart using vinegar but I'd put off the one on my nose.   It was once cute.  Maybe even personable.  However, it started to grow.  It started demanding snacks.  It got ugly. 

Now it's real ugly.  The other wart came off clean and didn't include people asking me "What happened?"

But, cross fingers, it's gone.

Hopefully the person I recommended this to hasn't burnt off whole appendages trying to remove their own wart.

If you are reading this, and you have, send me a bill.

Monday, October 04, 2010

If this doesn't work, I'm resorting to electric shock dog collars.

My yard's gone all to heck.  That's Utah-ese for "hell".

Part of that is my fault.  My sprinkling system burst into lovely and unwelcome fountains at some point and we have not fixed it yet with all the other projects we've had going on around this money pit.  I tried watering grass in the desert with a hose and sprinkler but this summer was hot and any plant that was not a weed died.

The other part of that is that my house seems to be the house of choice for every annoying child in the neighborhood to hang.  To chill.  To skulk under my windows making spacey pew pew pew sound effects and shrill shrieks.

All the constant foot traffic means I cannot have a lawn worthy of Better Homes and Gardens even if I did have sprinklers that weren't impotent.

All this juvenile foot traffic also means that when my family sits down to, say, eat a meal, or watch Big Bang Theory, we are bothered by incessant doorbell ringing and door knocking by yardapes wondering if we're "done yet."

On a Saturday I can expect intrusions onto my porch no less than a dozen times during non-meal hours until sundown asking if my kids can play.

One child I've successfully trained to knock in the first place so his skills are being put to good use.  I was even less polite to him when he just opened the front door and walked in.  He smells like pee most of the time.

Still, little dude, we are eating and my kid will be out when he's done.  Now GO HOME and play with matches while you wait, mmmkay?

I'm glad that kid isn't my kid and I'm not required to love it.  There's another kid who my husband swears lacks a soul.  I don't agree that this kid lacks a soul.  I think this kid has just been fed too many chicken nuggets and is in a preservative induced stupor.

I'm not just going to sit here and just complain to the blogosphere about kids that aren't mine.  Oh no.  I have a plan.  Lucky for humanity it doesn't include sharp objects or mickeys slipped into drinkable yogurt.  Instead it's constructive.  Muahahaha, it just might work!  Even for the illiterate!

A green placard hanging off the doorknob means "Go!" and it's OK to knock.  Knock ONCE and wait and don't just walk into my house.

A red placard hanging off the doorknob means "STOP!" and DON'T KNOCK you little turd because we are having family time and my kids cannot play right now.  If you so much as tap on my door or poke your little heads near my son's bedroom windows while red means stop, you will not be allowed to play over here for a week or more.

You would think that since winter is coming that all this knocking would slow down, but you would be wrong.   All winter does is guarantee that there won't be as many flies coming into my house when the door opens yet again and my dead yard gets a pass.  Project "Knock Block" starts today, as soon as I laminate those signs.

God, if that pee kid is color blind, I just don't know what I'd be driven to.

Absent Minded Archives