Monday, March 31, 2008

Growing old gracefully?

I usually stay out of the drama news of celebrities, I really don’t care what grocery store Brittany’s cooter was sited or which Olsen twin is wearing the latest garbage bag to hide her emaciated drug infected boy body, wow that was rude…anyway, I just had to comment on Demi Moore’s latest endeavor to fight the winless battle against aging. She announced on Letterman that she is currently using Leech therapy. Yes you read it right, LEECH therapy. Apparently letting those slimy black boogers attach themselves to designated areas on your body has its benefits. To me, a benefit would NOT be placing LEECHES on your body to burrow into your epidermis and feast on your plasma.

First of all I was shocked to learn that Demi even has blood running in her veins to utilize such a process. What’s next sucking the souls out of the young and innocent? Now don’t get me wrong here, if I had a written guarantee signed in blood might I add, that soul sucking would result in eternal youth and beauty, well I might be swayed to the dark side and I would therefore not be allowed around children…alone…anymore.

Well, I would at least try sucking the souls out of humans we don’t care about first, like politicians or lawyers…ohh wait…they don’t have souls. I would like to note that I was at least willing to try an alternate source.

Come on now people, nothing in this world will stop your once perky parts from eroding, not even slapping a leech on your wrinkles to suck them out! It’s inevitable and you will only look worse trying. Resorting to placing icky leeches all over your body to suck you blood out, is it really worth it? Will your body be left with permanent leech hickeys?

How about this visual for you: you are 94 and in a nursing home and it’s time for a shower, so a young perky little nurse’s aid comes bouncing in to help you into the shower and she gets you naked and she cannot help but quietly gasp and you reluctantly look up at yourself in the mirror as if you need proof of what you already know, what you already have tried to suppress.
Slowly you look into the mirror and stare at your saggy profile and you see the “tramp stamp” you got when you we’re 18, that has now sagged into your crevice. Then you turn sideways and at your saggy pouch like waist you see the beginnings of your brownish purple dead nipples attached to a stretched band of transparent veiny skin.
You cringe and try hard to mask your pain, then you look higher now and you see them, those perfect round bulging masses. They are your breast implants, the ones that will out last the life of the sun. Those perky bastards stare back at you in the mirror as if they were mocking you.
You grab your sagging nipple pouches and pull them back behind you trying to make those silicone masses proud. Defeated you turn and tell the aid in a disgruntled voice " take a picture it'll last longer" and shuffle into the shower.

So, the moral of this story is that getting old is a part of life, a sucky part but a fact that we have no control over and unless you want to look like a science experiment gone horribly wrong, then you will just suck it up and move on. I guess you can give Demi credit for giving it a good fight. Personally, I think I will stick with my oil of olay anti-wrinkle cream and hope for the best.

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Monday, March 24, 2008

Here comes Peter cotton tail!

Ok, I had one of those moments where you sit and wonder about something and it’s origins etc. The kind of thing that make you go hmmmmm????
What possess us as a human race to torture our young several times a year? Think about it, large rabbits walking on 2 legs with gigantic heads, buckteeth and small beady eyes, sneaking into your home to leave chocolate and hide eggs. This alone could strike fear into any child. How about a clown for instance? The never ending, never bending smile plastered upon the painted face of a grown man. The wild orange fluffy hair with a big honking nose only stands out more with his wide open freakishly over eager eyes.
Not to forget the fat bastard Santa! The stories we tell our children of a fat jolly red cheeked man dressed in a red velvet suit toting a bag of toys along with a clan of elves to sneak into your house, watch you while you are sleeping and check his list to see if you are bad or not and eat all the cookies! For the love of Jesus! We wonder why as we slap them onto the laps of these “beloved characters” they wind up their best cry and quiver their lips in fear.
The malls filled with screaming children as we insist they sit on the laps of these freakish characters just to get a picture. Forcing a smile with promises of a prize or perhaps a piece of chocolate. So I sit here and wonder how this all got started? Do we secretly smirk and chuckle as we see children run and scream from these crazy eyed characters?
Is this some sort of a pay back from parents for times we are not allowed to beat our children? Like when your lovely angelic child leaves a glass of milk under their bed, to ferment into a cesspool of germs, or how about when they leave those tiny little toys on every floor of the house for you to step on in the middle of the night as you get up to pee, cuz you are getting older and the bladder just doesn’t hold the way it used to.
Could this possibly be the reason we torture our sweet children with images that haunt them till adulthood? Now for us adults we are tortured with sicko characters in movies that strangely resemble clowns or puppets?? I see a pattern here and I don’t know about you but disturbing is the only word that describes it.
I guess we can all sit back and take this as our little form of entertainment, putting fright into someone somehow makes us all laugh. For example my lovely husband of mine thinks it funny to bring home a new DVD to add to his collection and proudly shove it into my face awaiting a jolt of fear to show across my face and eyes sending him into a good laugh. It was the movie “IT” with a crazy clown and his mouthful of razor teeth. While my husbands recovering, I sit here now and realize the answer to my question is yes; it is because we all get some kind of kick scaring the shit out of a helpless soul.
Hehehehhehe (evil grin)
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Thursday, March 13, 2008

Let's bring it back!

How fun were snowball fights!? Come on now; remember back in the day when you didn’t “feel” the cold? Where you would stay outside all day and build mini igloos and have snowball wars.
Back then pretty much whoever’s side made the best and the most snowballs won. Or who scored major points by pegging an unsuspecting adult. I swear my brother can wind one up and snap it dead at the back of your head with the speed of at least 80 mph. No matter how fast you ran in your padded snow suit and moon boots, no matter how many zig zags you maneuvered, you can even be all the way across the street and 2 houses down and his precisely launched snowball will knock you square on your melon, of course knocking off your knit hat with the little ball at the top.
Then after a whole day of snow enjoyment, you would head inside with 2nd degree frostbite, a few snowburns, wet soggy gloves and moon boots filled with balls of snow that have attached themselves to your leg hair, to have some piping hot cocoa (which of course burns the first 2 layers of skin off your tongue).

Ok check it out, how awesome would it be to bring back that priceless childhood memory to your adult world?! Schedule a big snowball fight at lunch time in the courtyard or where ever you can that does not pose safety issues for others that are NOT playing. I think during the winter at least twice a month every work place should partake in a little lunch time snow adventure! How fun does that sound?!
Now this can also solve pent up frustrations which will alleviate stress in the workplace which in turn will boost productivity and therefore cut down on “mental health days” Have I sold you yet? Just think… you can ping that person who proceeded to work your last nerve after clearly registering the look of “over whelmed” on your face. Nahhh just kidding, Keep it safe and fun, no one likes a “snowburn’ on the middle of their forehead or an ice impacted ear! No matter how much one may deserve it…hehehe (evil grin).
We have become a society that is too busy with being serious, too serious to just let loose and have a little harmless fun. As a matter of fact I think this should be mandatory. So, are you with me? Or are you going to be an old decrepit, no fun having, miserable, serious all the time kind of person? Ok let’s go!
Now I just have one rule… one is to hit me in the face…I mean it dammit! Mark! (My lovely twin) you of course are not allowed! Unless, of course you are on my side. Take a minute everyone and sit back and remember a fun time in the snow as a kid. You deserve it.
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Wednesday, March 5, 2008

DWS (driving while stupid)

Is there a reason why people feel the need to drive their vehicles while I’m driving mine? Can’t every one just re-arrange their schedules so that they will not be driving while I’m on the road…at all? Well, maybe that’s a bit extreme.

How about this, my car and only my car of course, should come complete with functioning coffee holders, air conditioning and a ZAP button. Yes, a ZAP button. You see I need this convenient accessory so that when certain situations arise I can take care of them at the push of a button. This button will target the correct vehicle and deliver an efficient amount of electricity that will jar its driver ever so slightly…who am I kidding!? I want it to jolt the “STUPID” right out of the deserving driver. Just enough volts to cause a painful 3 second spasm.

The unsuspecting dumbass will then immediately be aware that they have affected others by their stupid driving and think twice not to do so again. A perfect example of people that should not be allowed to drive while I am is:

1. The jack of an ass that feels the need to put on his brakes every 30 to 40 seconds.
2. The botard that thinks it’s a personal racing challenge if you pull ahead of him. (NASCAR wannabe)
3. The bimbo in the swerving back and forth SUV, talking on the phone, putting on her mascara (In case you’re a man reading this, that’s eye make-up) the whole time completely oblivious to all around her.
4. Finally, the hole of an ass person that refuses to comply with merging rules of the road.

Now, I’m sure we can all add even more to this list, but I think it’s a good start, for now. The point is people, if you absolutely have to drive while I am, please do so in the correct manor. Pay attention to what the fuck you are doing and try real hard not to be a rude ass. There is no need to slow the whole process of getting back and forth to work daily just because you have severe issues. If this is the case I suggest you take the bus or car pool with a responsible driver other than your simpleton ass. Oh and can I make a plea to all the cute engineer nerds out there to please design this ZAP device for my car? Thanks ;)

P.S. hamster update...he has been found. Although with patches of missing fur and the still green tongue he is resting and should be fine....however, refuses to talk to me or even look me in the eyes.

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