What are YOU lookin' at???

Have you ever caught someone constantly look at your shirt, or another part of your body while they are talking to you, even though nothing is there?

This happened to me ALL DAY. There was nothing on my shirt, it was on straight, it was full coverage - no boob action, no crumbs, no random animals or bugs clinging to my shirt, NOTHING.

So WHAT was everybody looking at? I even went to the bathroom to check, and asked not one, but TWO people if there was anything on me, and I got the same response every time. 

"Nope, nothing there."

Was the pattern on my shirt so mesmerizing that these people felt the need to glance down at least fifteen times during our conversation(s)? Was the baby in my belly doing that weird alien thing and pushing outwards on my skin when I wasn't looking, and I somehow didn't feel or notice it at all? 

And here's another thing: if someone has something on their shirt, or their underwear is hanging out, or their pants are on backwards, or a forest is sticking out from their teeth - TELL THEM! It's NOT rude to give someone a heads up about this stuff; it IS rude to STARE at the offending item on their person NONSTOP and NOT say anything thus CONDEMNING that person to walk around like a DOOFY asshole all day.

Fssshttt.

I hate females.

If someone were to ask you, "who is your best friend?" what would you say? 

Now hold that name in your mind, and THINK. WHY is that person your best friend? What does the term, "best friend" even mean?

I've had very few people come close to the "best friend" title in my life. It is something that has always tortured me, especially when I go to a wedding shower or baby shower and hear the best friend speeches and the "oh my god soandso remember way back when"'s. It sucks. Everyone else seems to have had the normal friend progression except for me. 

The few people that got close enough for me to consider the BFF title, ended up fucking me over in some way, thus destroying my trust in female friends going forward. It was always about a guy, or another friend who was cooler. Always. Alwaysalways.

I thought as I grew older that this high school sentiment between females would change. It hasn't. How do I know? Because I got fucked over. Again. I don't know why I'm even hurt or surprised this time. It is to the point where I've had to distance myself from the other females in my life, because I don't fucking trust any of them. 

Females are a nasty gender. They will smile to your face and talk shit on you twenty seconds later to the person next to you. They will tell you how awesome you are and how close you are to them, and then ditch you for a guy or someone who is more entertaining. You will spend money on them, help them in every way possible, babysit for them, offer your goddamn body for surrogacy if they can't conceive themselves, and they will still fuck you over every.damn.time.

Do I seem sensitive and jealous? Because half of the time I really don't give a shit if my friends have other friends, fuck up and make mistakes, never call me because they have a family of their own - I get it, I do that shit too, it's COOL.

All I ask is that if they have a problem with something I'm doing, the way that I parent, something I've said -  TELL ME. Don't tell someone else and complain about it. Don't talk shit on me. Don't move on to someone else. FUCKING tell me. 

I fear for my daughter and her future relationships. I already see the cliques forming and the shit-talking starting at her age. My daughter is usually the brunt of it, unfortunately, because she can't understand why soandso is playing with someone else instead of everyone playing together. Or why soandso makes her sit in the corner while they play with the other kids, as part of a "game". 

I'm tired of it. I understand now why my parents don't have any friends. I understand why they prefer each other's company over anyone else's. It took me a long time, but I get it now.

Today, if someone were to ask me who my best friend is, without a doubt I would answer, "my husband". He is the one person who has stood by me no matter what. No matter how many times I've done and said stupid shit, no matter how many times we've disagreed, he has been there. He doesn't always say the right thing, but he's there. He's there and he loves me, and that's all that matters. 

All of this has made me realize that all that matters in my world is my daughter and my husband. My family. These are the people who I wake up everyday for, who I work my ass off for, who make me the happiest. On any given day, if you were to ask me to go out for lunch or to a bar - I can tell you I'd rather be at home with my husband and daughter, watching a movie or just being goofy on the couch.

Yeah. I know this is supposed to be a funny blog but I've been pretty down lately, and I can only rant to Marc so much. 

My Dad

My Dad is in pain. He doesn't really talk about it much, but the leukemia in his system that has been wearing him down for the past six years is taking a toll on his body, and his sanity.

He doesn't throw pity parties, and he doesn't tell people what he is going through because he doesn't want to hear the "I'm sorries" and "I can't imagine what you're going through" sentiments. Because they don't matter. They don't make the disease slow down, those words do nothing but make someone remember what they are going to have to face when their body stops fighting.

I think it is truly fucked up that people like my Dad, who have worked their asses off all their lives end up having something like this enter their system. There are so many shitty people out there who will live out their lives healthy, surrounded by money and everything they could ever want or need. It's fucking unfair. 

For the sake of this blog, I am going to temporarily put away my anger and remember why I began writing this at all.

My husband, daughter and I went out to Dairy Queen last night and ate ice cream at the picnic tables adjacent to the store. The breeze was slight and cooled the air just enough to make outside completely comfortable to just sit, relax and reminisce. It made me remember going out for motorcycle rides with my Dad, where he would say "you go with Pete, you get a treat!" and he would sneak me off to the very same Dairy Queen to have chocolate covered ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles. 

I remember going to Kung Fu with him three or four times a week, and every once in a while he'd treat me to Taco Bell (my end all be all at the time) before we got home. We'd always have to get rid of the evidence before we walked in the house, for my Mom would raise hell about spending money and an already made dinner.

I remember when I was sick with mono; my Dad took me out to French Creek to take a walk. He took a lot of pictures of me that day, and there is one photo that I still have (somewhere) of me, miserable with swollen glands, crouched next to a huge tree with a Slurpee next to some awesome scenery. I always loved that picture. Not because of the scenery, or because of the hilarity of my miserableness at that moment, but because my Dad took it. My Dad took that awesome picture.

My Dad is an amazing blues guitarist, photographer, artist, martial arts master. I have full confidence that regardless of how sick he feels, on any given day he could snap someone's neck no problem. He works at a shitty job, where people treat him like dogshit all day, despite the fact the he is one of the few remaining electricians that actually know what the fuck they are doing. He deserves a lot more respect than what he gets on a daily basis. 

There are days when I wish I could surprise him or do something special for him, but my Dad doesn't like surprises, or big to-do's. He's just not that kind of person. He doesn't want people to make a big deal out of him, or go out of their way to throw him a party.

Today I finally realized, that the thing my Dad loves the most is spending time with his kids and his grandkids. When I see him with my daughter, I can see every single worry and every single hurt disappear from his eyes. He is the same way with my brother's children, he loves teaching them Kung Fu, music, art, all of the things he is awesome at and wants to pass on to them.

Of every member in my family, the core of who I am is my father. When I feel that anger rise up in my heart that makes me want to destroy someone who hurt someone I love, I know that's my father's anger. When my daughter does something amazing that makes me smile, I know that's my father's pride. When I walk straight into a wall without looking, and shake it off like nothing happened despite the pain that might shoot through my body from the impact, I know that's my father's resilience. When I tell my daughter Goopy and Gypy stories every night that involve ridiculous shenanigans that make her giggle, I know that's my father's sense of humor.

My father is a man that I look up to above any other man on this planet. I respect him through and through, love him with every fiber of my being, and ache for him when I see the bullshit he has to go through on a daily basis. 

If leukemia were a man, I would beat him senseless with a baseball bat, wait until he wakes up, then slowly start chopping off his body parts. I would let him bleed to death and piss on him in the process. I would let him rot and laugh as birds pecked away at the body of a man who has caused so many good people to go through so much pain.

All I can do now is continue doing what I'm doing. Because I know that's what my Dad wants. He wants us to all be happy. I'm going to do that for him. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure my daughter, my husband and me are happy. I'm going to love my family through everything. I'm going to kick ass at my job, finish college and buy a house with my family. I'm going to be the person he made me to be. 

I love you Dad. I don't care if you are mad that I wrote/posted this because I'm a stubborn bitch and you are just going to have to deal with it. You can blame the bitch part of me on Mom. :)

Young Adults: Popularity, Teenagers, and why I'm never letting my daughter leave the house

I recently watched a movie called "Young Adults" with Charlize Theron. I would tell you to go see it, but I'm going to summarize it for you now simply because I know you're a lazy shit and won't go see it anyway.


Jist of the story: Popular pretty girl Mavis Gary grows up to be an ex-famous young adult fiction writer living in the "big city" of Minneapolis. Despite the fact that she is still gorgeous, she is an alcoholic loser who is divorced and goes out to bars to fuck dudes to remind herself how pretty she is. She finds an old mixed tape that her old beau made and decides to stalk him in the town she grew up in. She finds out he's married with a baby and goes for it anyway, ends up pissing off a lot of people she used to go to school with and looking crazy and pathetic, fucks a crippled dude, then goes home with the thought in her mind that she is still better than everyone else. The end.


This made me think about my short time at PAHS, and my time at PAMS. I fucking hated every second of it. It me think of all the "popular" kids at my school, and how ignorant they really were/are. Kids really don't give a shit about who you are or what you can do. If you have something about you they don't like, kids will torture you verbally and physically until you want to kill yourself or go nutso and kill everyone else. When I heard about Columbine, I was sad, but I understood. Yes, those kids that killed everyone were nutso, but did you ever think about what their experience was? You think "oh, they got made fun of for being different, that doesn't excuse them killing everybody!". But do you REALLY know what they went through before they made that decision?


Have you ever been tortured in school? If you say "no" then you lucked out and got a great school, or you were one of the popular assholes that made fun of everyone else and probably deserved to be shot. There were days when I was on the verge of killing myself because how bad I was tortured. My pants were pulled down every day, books were knocked out of my hand every day on purpose, I got made fun of in class and the TEACHERS played along with it and laughed at me, I couldn't go anywhere without someone saying something asinine to me, and I was having a rough time at home too. I am a better person now after going through that, but I would never, ever want that to happen to my daughter ever. To this day I am surprised I didn't end up freaking out and severely hurting one of my offenders. 


Walking around Reeves park in the midst of the fair the other day reminded me of that high school experience as well. I saw fourteen and fifteen year girls dressed like hookers, leaning on boys that looked stupid enough to have a long-term career at McDonald's - but THEY were the POPULAR ones! I don't understand it! Why does our society hold popularity in such high regard and cast all others aside? It doesn't matter if you are smarter than every kid in your class or if you have given all of your free time to charity, unless you are popular, YOU ARE SHIT. 


Even worse, I saw some of the "popular" people that I used to school with and they were ALL THE SAME. The SAME pieces of shit, never changed. And even though I know damn well they saw me, I walked right past them and flipped them off. I don't care if people can change, I still remember every goddamn word they said. Time doesn't erase that. 


I fear for my daughter. I fear that she'll be me in school. Or even worse, I fear that she'll end up popular and pretty and stupid. I don't want that. I don't want her to ever cut another person down because they aren't like her. I want her to learn to accept and tolerate others. I know no matter what I teach her, society will dictate otherwise. But I do know, that if she comes home crying because she was bullied in school, and the school or the kid's parents do nothing about it, I will give my daughter full permission to fuck up that kid physically. I don't give a shit if you think that's wrong. Bullies like that need to be a taught a lesson, and the only lesson that can be remembered at that age is violence. If my kid can't do it, I will do it for them. I will straight on knock a fucking fouteen year old out, no problem. If necessary, I will knock out their parents as well, for raising such a snotty piece of shit and not taking care of it sooner. I will probably end up in jail, but it will be worth every day behind bars.


I know this isn't the normal, funny, story-type blog you are used to, but there is some straight-up sizzling anger in my heart that I needed to get out. 


Dear Parents,


Don't encourage your kids to be assholes. Don't tell them that being different is wrong. If you see them being mean to other kids, take them down a notch and remind them that they make mistakes and have faults too. Don't let your fourteen year old girl out of the house in hooker clothes. Don't let your thirteen year old boy dress like a gangster or a fucking moron. Don't let them out of the house unless they get good grades. Don't let them talk back to you, and teach them respect. This is easier said than done, but what you teach your child not only has an effect on them, but everyone around them. Remember that. 




Love,


A person who is still slightly fucked up by her past

For my brothers and sister (WARNING: This post may be sentimental!)

Today I watched my daughter playing with my cousins in the field at my parent's house. I was surrounded by friends and family, and I could feel every worry in my life sliding away as I watched bubbles float into the sunlight. The comfort in being surrounded by people who love you unconditionally is the best feeling in the world.

Today was about my brother Adam, who I love and would do anything for. He came home for a few days to visit before going back home, but as my husband, daughter and I dropped him off to say goodbye for who knows how long, my heart sank, and something my Mom said earlier in the day popped in my head,

"Today was almost perfect, except it was missing Petey and Jill."

I honestly don't remember the last time my entire family was in the same room together. Maybe at Christmas years ago, but even then it felt short-lived. We have all grown up, we have all gone our separate ways to do our separate things. But I can't help but feel like it's unfair. Maybe we don't always get along, or maybe we've got something going on in our lives that prevents us from seeing each other, or maybe the physical distance and money to travel is too great. But I fucking miss my family. I miss the people that I grew up with who made me who I am today.

I already miss Adam. As much as we probably drove each other bonkers living together in Hawaii, Adam is an awesome, funny and kind person. He is a great uncle to Irie, can cook a mean ass Ahi Taco, and knows how to get shit done. One of the greatest moments in my life was hanging out with him in the waves on a perfect day at Kalalau beach, after a grueling 11 mile hike. I cried a bit as we drove away today, wondering when I would see him next. 

I miss my brother Petey, who works nonstop just to provide for his family. He is a master lottery ticket picker, an amazing chef, hilarious, and has more street smarts than anybody else I know. He is a great Dad, and even though he isn't far, he has a busy life with his family. I have seen him three times now since coming home in November of last year, which is not nearly enough.

I miss my sister Jill. She is beautiful and talented at pretty much everything she does. She is great with kids, and can also kick your ass if need be. I remember all of the adventures we used to go on when we were younger. She lives in a place far away, in a different culture, a different life. The last time I saw her in person was almost two years ago.

It's just fucking unfair. I just wish we could all be in the same room again, even if for an hour. I miss it. Yeah, we all bitch about each other, yeah there are bad memories sometimes that haunt us. But fuck - isn't that part of being a family? I feel like we are all running away from each other, trying to find something to make us feel normal, make us feel new, make us feel happy, make us feel settled, find out who the fuck we are. But today was the most normal and happy that I've felt in a long time, and it was because of family and friends. 

Maybe we have all been running from the one thing that makes us whole - each other. We all have our quirks, shit we wish the other person wouldn't do, but in the end we are all the same blood. We all came from the same two awesome parents, who would do anything for us at the blink of an eye. 

Coming home from Hawaii made me realize how important my family is to me. Being around family and friends has made me understand that they are a part of who I am. As much as we have all grown up, that is still no excuse for abandonment, missed phone calls and lives that are too busy for what is really important. I am guilty of all three, as are most of us.

I miss you all. I pray that you all figure out what you need in your life to be happy. But I know right now that without all of you, I feel like a piece of my heart is missing. Skype isn't enough. Phone calls aren't enough. I need you all near me. I need to see your faces, hear your voices. I just need all of you.

TO EVERYONE UNDER 21 WHO THINKS THEY ARE IN LOVE

Dear Idiots,


Why are you in such a rush to get married and have babies? Is everyone around you getting married and having babies, and you feel like you need to do so to fit in? Do you have a DEEP desire within you, to find that knight on a white horse and then have beautiful children and ride off in the sunset with all of your babies on your lap?


Newflash: It ain't ever gonna happen.


I was you once. I had boyfriends, killed myself over each one, envisioned my life as the perfect housewife with perfect children. I would agonize over every text, every suspicion, flip out on boyfriends for stupid shit, and you know what I missed out on?


MY FUCKING YOUTH. 


So you're 16-21 and you think you're in love? You've been with your boyfriend for six months and now you want to get married? Stop right now moron. You don't know SHIT about what a marriage and kids really take. 


Marriage is FUCKING HARD. You have to constantly work at communication, constantly work to find solutions so you don't slip anthrax on your spouses pillow before they go to bed or strangle them in the shower (that's when they least expect it). You have to PAY BILLS, and WORK to earn money, SHARE responsibilities and LEARN to like each other's friends. Sound easy? Think you can do it? Wait six months to a year after you get married, and then come and tell me it's fucking easy. You are with that one person for the rest of your life. Why the fuck do you think the divorce rate is so high? It's because young assholes like you meet someone, fuck a lot, then think they are in love.


And don't EVER move in with someone you think you love until you've seen them have a bad day. I don't mean, "oh honey, you had a bad day at work let me give you a massage". I mean, "holy shit, what happened to my spouse, they are going to either going to kill someone or themselves, I gotta get outta here". Yeah. As much as it seems perfect now, I promise you there will be a moment that you wonder how the fuck you got to where you are.


And don't even fucking get me started on kids. These little fuckers will SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU. You are NO LONGER YOU. You are YOU + 1. Babies are cute, but they can't talk yet. Wait till they turn four and start screaming in the middle of McDonald's because you gave them apple juice and they wanted chocolate milk. Wait till you are in a rush to get somewhere and they decide to shit/vomit/piss everywhere and whoop, there goes getting to the place that you need to get to on time! Wait till they ask loudly in front of people of a different race, "MOMMY, WHY ARE THOSE PEOPLE BROWN?". Yeah (that brown thing happened today by the way - THAT was fun).


I love my husband and I love my daughter more than life itself; I would kill for them, do anything for them at the drop of a hat, and despite my incessant ranting, I am happy with my life. And yeah, I got married/had a baby young. Yes, I did all the shit above and more. At no moment would I take my life back, but I do have moments where I wish I would have taken time to figure out who I was before I jumped into everything. This is why I feel compelled to tell all of you to slow down.


Why do you want to settle down so quick? Go travel! Go to school! Go out and party! Be ALONE for a while! Why do you need to have a boyfriend/girlfriend? If you can't stand being alone with yourself, then you've got a fucking problem.


Before you ever get in a relationship, you better know damn well who YOU are. I will tell you right now, knowing yourself doesn't come for a long time. I still don't know who the fuck I am. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. 


So stop with the fucking drama. Stop with the crying into your pillow and screaming at your boyfriend/girlfriend and accusations. If someone was video recording how you act in your relationship and showed it to you, what would you think? Because I tell you right now, most of ya'll are pathetic crazy fucktarts.


If it doesn't work, then let it go. Instead of jumping right in to another relationship, take a couple years off and read books, travel, make your own money, do things you find interesting, and if you are so goddamned lonely adopt a pet.


Enjoy your life. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks of you, and worry about what you think of you. No significant other will ever make you like yourself more. No significant other will ever make you complete. THAT IS YOUR JOB. No matter who you are with in what capacity, loving yourself and feeling whole is your task in life. 


And when you are ready, find someone else who also loves and respects themselves, and then you will learn to love on a different level.


Love,


ME

Bitches. A drunken rant (about bitches)

I decided to take a break from story requests, and embark on a new rant - because I am disturbed. Do you know why I'm disturbed? 

(You guys) "No Malory, tell us, please!"

I'm disturbed about other women. Because most of them are bitches. Really. It's fucking annoying and stupid. 

--------------------------

Dear Bitches,

Why do you insist on being assholes to other girls? Why? Maybe you are at a party, and you are all nice to someone and then talk complete shit on them to other bitches. Why? Does this make you feel better about yourself? 

Being a bitch does not make you cooler, prettier, or smarter then your victim. Chances are, you've been out of high school for several years now, so quit it with the clique bullshit. And why on earth do you have to hate on other women? Is it competition? For what? Why? A boy's attention? To be the center of attention in the group? Let me ask you another question, why the fuck does it matter?

Do you bitches seriously not have lives? What do you do when you get home, bitch about other women to your probably near-suicidal spouse? Fucking stop it! 

Here's a couple ideas: Next time you want to hate on another girl because you're either jealous, a terrible person, or fucking retarded, you can try one of these instead:

-Go outside and look at trees for fifteen minutes

-Actually listen to what other people have to say

-Sew your mouth shut

-Be genuinely nice to someone

-Smile

-Do something nice for your spouse

-Do something nice for another girl who isn't also a bitch

-Pet a dog

-Learn to juggle

-Eat pizza

-Donate money to charity

-Help old people carry heavy shit

-Carry heavy children for tired mothers

-Learn Kung Fu

-Stop being a bitch

And the list goes on and on. 

Don't you see? There are so many other things you could be doing instead of being bitchy all day. I mean, do you like being a bitch? Is it fun for you?

By all means, if being a bitch makes you happy, go for it, but.... I have a feeling that isn't the case for most bitches.

Because it seems that most bitches are just fucking miserable yabbermouths. The shame is, most of these bitches are hot - but then they open their mouths and it's like "ewww that bitch is ugly". In reality, you aren't ugly - you are just mean, which makes you fucking ugly.

So stop. Be nice to other people, it will make you happy, and it will make you feel really good. And then maybe you'll realize that life is about more than being a bitch.

Love,

Me

"Welcome to Walmart!" for Mark S.

WARNING: This story may contain STD's, muffintops, and McDonalds. Reader discretion is advised.
----------------------------------------------


WECOMA WABART!


Or, "Welcome to Walmart"! (For those of you who can't understand 90 year old's who don't have any teeth left.) 


If you need something, ANYTHING, you can find it here! 


Having weight issues, and can't find clothes that fit? Shop in our toddler section! You will see by the style of our frequent shoppers, that BULGES and CAMELTOE are IN right now! Because everybody at Walmart knows - for every twenty pounds you gain, you go down a size in gym shorts! Also, make sure that whatever shirts you pick show AS MUCH of your muffin top as possible, so that all of the beefy boys at the in-store McDonald's whistle and catcall at your saggy tits as you stomp down the aisle!


Genital warts got you down? Come check out our Walmart pharmacy, where we have our own aisle for products to cover every STD you could ever possibly contract ever! Got a medical question? Don't worry, our pharmacists are completely knowledgeable on all STD's, since all of our pharmacists have contracted most of them at some point in their lives. Need to refill your Vicodin prescription for that "back pain" problem that got resolved (shhh) after surgery ten years ago? Take advantage of our four dollar prescription plan! If you share your pills with the pharmacist, they'll knock a dollar off! We even have pill resale opportunities directly outside of our store! Just visit any of our employees having a smoke break to the left of the entrance, and they will happily purchase and redistribute your pills for whatever price you ask. 


Need some toys for the kiddies? Come into our toy section and check out our wide variety of loud, noisy toys that don't have off switches! If you get hit in the head by a huge bouncy ball/race car/baseball bat, don't worry! It's just the group of unsupervised, foulmouthed six years old's having a good time trying out our products.


Need to return an item? Come to our customer service desk! It doesn't matter if you used the item, broke the item, wiped your ass with the item, don't have the receipt, or if it is from another store! Just make sure to raise your voice gradually and drop f-bombs when speaking to the customer service representative about your return, so that they know that you are serious about wanting your money back.


No need to ever visit your local mom and pop shop again, because we have driven them all out of business with our super low prices!


Oh, and don't forget to set off the alarm on your way out of your store. You will be treated to a lovely "body massage" by one of our aging toothless greeters, to make sure you don't accidentally leave with one of our cheap worthless items. But of course, you will be giggling the whole time - because you stashed your shit in your child's diaper, and no one one's to take a peek in there after little Susie has had diarrhea all day!


Come back soon, our greeters are just dying to see you again!

The Toothbrush Debate

I love my husband more than words can say. That sounds cheesy as fuck, but just stay with me for a minute. This man has been there through thick and thin and puts up with massive amounts of my bullshit on a daily basis. He is the kindest dude that ever was, with one exception: he hates it when I use his toothbrush. 

Now some of you may say, "ewww why would you use someone else's toothbrush, that's gross!", but to you I say fuck off. He's my husband, my fucking HUSBAND. The man who has witnessed/seen/touched (whether accidental or not) every single bodily fluid I could possibly excrete/spew/gush ever. He has wiped my vomit off of a toilet seat, washed my shitty pants after a day of being awful bad sick, and has dealt with my sweating issues since forever. So why the FUCK does he have a problem with me using his toothbrush? 

Now I admit, I'm a chewer. I do waste toothbrushes in no time. And maybe my husband has a sparkly purple toothbrush. And I can imagine that maybe he has grown an attachment to said toothbrush. So yes, that should trigger some annoyance; yes, that I can understand. But it's.a.TOOTHBRUSH!  Technically, we are losing toothbrushes at the exact same rate regardless of the toothbrush I use, so why should it matter?

Is this a dominance issue, because I am constantly organizing his shit and maybe we have different operational definitions for the term "organize"? 

His definition of organize: Pile shit in corner of room, regardless of room.

My definition of organize: Put shit where it goes. Can now walk in house without killing self.

And so his constant complaint is "stop fucking up my shit!", when I'm all like "you mean our shit?" so maybe that's why he hates me using his toothbrush, because using his toothbrush = "fucking with his shit"? We have debated many nights over this topic, and we just can't seem to agree. 

Honey: I love you. Don't kill me :) Rum!         ............(Don't ask.)

And so I pose to readers: 

Do you have the toothbrush debate at your house? What color is your toothbrush?

Facebook or Blogger feedback appreciated!

Insect Mercy Level (When Found Inside My House)

So there I was, kicking back on a quiet night, drinking my water and attempting not to vomit from the amount of effort I was making to try to understand HR Law and Ethics, when I felt a tickle on my left big toe.

"Aieeeeeeeefuck!" I screamed as I shook off the stinkbug, who had so comfortably decided to chill on my toe. My first instinct was to let this motherfucker drown in the toilet, wrapped in a nice toilet paper cocoon. However, my mind instantly flashed to the same stinkbug making it out of the death cocoon, hiding underneath the toilet seat, and flying onto my ass while I'm peeing, and it prevents me from doing so. He flutters around a bit, visibly shaken, and decides to land on my coffee table. So I did what any sane person would do. I talked to it.

"Okay listen up Mr. Stinkbug, I'm going to get you out of here. Okay? I'm going to make sure you get out safe. But you tell your other stinkbug friends outside, that I will not show them the mercy I showed you tonight should they happen to venture into my humble abode."

And so I carefully picked him up with a paper towel, making sure not to crush his little legs, slowly walked downstairs and rested the the paper towel on the stoop outside. As I set him down, I reminded him:

"You remember what I said, okay? You tell your friends, or they die." Of course the moment I say this a couple strolled by and immediately turned their heads at the word "die". Seeing no one around me, they looked even more disturbed as they looked back and continued on their nighttime stroll. 

Yes. I am a weirdo. And I am not a bug killer. Really I'm not. 


Well...it depends on the bug.

Insect Mercy Level (When Found Inside My House)

-Stinkbugs: Mercy Level - 1%. All others sentenced to drowning by toilet cocoon or paper towel suffocation followed by being smashed and crushed repeatedly. 

-Flies: Mercy Level - 0%. Die by any means necessary, as fast as possible. Usually with flip flops.

-Spiders: Mercy Level - 100%. Always carefully cradled by hand or within a glass/magazine capturing device and given a slow ride outside to be let free amongst the bushes. I used to hate these things, but having them around me ALL THE TIME in Hawaii... I kind of got used to them. They actually aren't so bad. They probably eat most of the other bugs in your house, so they are doing your job for you. Plus some of them look cool.

-Cockroaches: Mercy Level - .5%. The only reason I say .5% is because sometimes these fuckers are hard to catch. What the hell was God thinking when he created these abominations? "Oh and after these beautiful mountains and clouds, I think I'll create some disgusting looking leggy little things that eat everything and never die. Yeah, then after that I'll make some beautiful trees and fish...". I HATE killing these things because they GUSH guts and shit wherever you smash them. FUCKING DISGUSTING!

-Centipedes: Mercy Level - 95%. It depends on where they are found. If found hanging out on the walls, I will use my handy glass/magazine capturing devices and fling them outside. If I find one in the shower, well, it's probably 5am and I can't feel mercy until after I have at least two cups of coffee, so I'll probably just smash it until it goes down the drain.

-Crickets/Grasshoppers/Praying Mantis: Mercy Level - 100%. Are welcome inside my home whenever. I'll probably even hang out with them for a bit and chat.

"So uh, Praying Mantis, man, how's it been?" I'll ask.

*silence*

"Yeah yeah, I feel that way too. Want some of this cereal?"

*silence*

"Yo dude, don't get all offended. How was I supposed to know your kind can't eat cereal?"

And so on and so forth.

-Ants: Mercy Level - 25%. I'm on the fence about these guys. It's like, if I see one here or there in my house occasionally, I don't even bother. But when I get the sense that they might be plotting to dominate my house, I go nutso and spray so much Raid that I have to air out my place for a day.


------------------------

I can't even think of any other bugs I've seen in my house and smashed/saved recently. 

So here's a question for you guys:

What bugs do you find in your house, and do you save or smash? What's your mercy level?

"The Queen of Mount Creamer" for Lauren

My best buddy Lauren has an obsession with creamer. That's right. Creamer, the shit you put in coffee. Every morning, I watch her turn the creamer container upside down into her coffee until her coffee is thick enough to be sliced. Since I love my friend Lauren, this story is for her. 


Note: This story may contain creamer, but there are definitely no queens or mountains involved. 

THE QUEEN OF MOUNT CREAMER for Lauren


Chapter 1 - Shitting Hole


Once upon a time there was a girl named Lauren with beautiful curly dark hair and Jew tendencies. She lived in a town called BoringCoffeeville, and was famous for baking treats and goodies that the townspeople would smash into their faces because they just could not get enough. Every morning, Lauren would skip about the forest next to where she lived in a happy sing song dance as she picked the fresh ingredients for her treats. 


One day, as Lauren was mid-skip, a TERRIBLE EVIL ZOMBIEWITCH (who just happened to be grunting and dragging herself to the hole where she likes to shit) ran right into her and knocked her over.


"YO! Zombiewitch, what the fuck?" Lauren yelped, as she nursed the cut on her knee that she sustained from the fall.


"GURGLESMERGBARFSCHMERG", murmured the zombiewitch, as she continued shuffling towards the shithole as if nothing happened. 


Lauren was sincerely pissed. However, she was indeed curious about the zombiewitch, and whilst the zombiewitch was taking her time at her shitting hole, Lauren ran to the cottage where the zombiewitch lived and decided to have a look around.


Lauren entered the zombiewitch's cottage tentatively, halfway expecting rotting corpses and piss stains on the wall. To her surprise, the cottage was neat and well-kept, with several glass jars of mysterious powders and herbs lining the kitchen counter. One jar in particular caught her interest, and she unscrewed the lid and sniffed.


"HOLY FUCK, THAT'S IT!" Lauren exclaimed as the first scent of the powder hit her nostrils. Lauren was so excited about what she had discovered, that she grabbed the jar and ran all the way to her house.


Chapter 2 - Bitches Get Crazy


"I'm a fucking genius! I'mma make some cash, I'm a fucking geniussssss just look at my genius ass!" Lauren sang as she brewed her special dark beverage made of fresh blueberries (picked near the stream by her house).


"Wait till these bitches get a load of this!!" Lauren shouted in her kitchen after she took the first sip.


"Hodiddly dum, what's all the fuss about?" said Luigi (her hairy neighbor) as his nose led him to Lauren's open kitchen door.


"Taste this shit now and then give me lots of money!" Lauren screamed at Luigi's face, and then rocketed the brew at him, somewhat forgetting that it was scalding hot. 


"I'M MELTING!!" yelled Luigi as he dropped to the floor in agony, gripping his face.


"Hey that's my line!" said the evil zombiewitch as she appeared in the kitchen from thin air.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Hypocrites - For Leesha (WARNING: Extreme levels of curse words and horrid language)

So, I'm interrupting my normal order of stories (Lauren's is supposed to be next) to do Leesha's topic, because it is something that I experienced first-hand today. Ladies and gentlemen, today's rant is about: 

Hypocrites.

WARNING! TONS of cursing and angry language.

Everyone has been a hypocrite at some point in their lives. Don't lie. You know you've said shit like, "oh yeah I go to church every Sunday" when most Sundays you're vomiting in your toilet because you downed too many 7 & 7's the night before. Or maybe you've told people what an awesome swimmer you are, when the extent of your swimming experience includes trying not to drown in your own bathtub. You get my meaning. I've got no problems with that sort of hypocrisy. I do that shit too. I'm human just like everyone else.

The type of hypocrites I'm referring to in this rant, are the motherfuckers that make saying shit about themselves that isn't true their job. They consistently lie about themselves to make themselves look better, when in reality they are pig fuckers that don't do shit EVER. You know who I'm talking about. Maybe it's that dude in your class that's like "OH YEAH I'M A TOTAL ANIMAL RIGHTS ACTIVIST, I BREAK TIGERS OUT OF ZOOS AND CONCEAL THEM ON PLANES IN MY CARRY ON AND THEN FREE THEM IN THEIR NATURAL AFRICAN HABITAT" or the bitch in your Mommy and Me class that's like "LITTLE JEANIE NEVER CRIES OR SHITS EVER AND SLEEPS EVERY NIGHT BECAUSE I AM THE BEST MOM IN WHOLE WORLD!". Yeah. FUCK those people. 

Today I had, let's say, an altercation with a hypocrite. I won't name names, or say where it happened, but I will outline the situation for you to the best of my ability. I've had a hard week, I've been in a training class for four days packing my brain with information, and every night when I go home, I have to do at least three or four hours of homework for my classes at school. This is in addition to cleaning my house, making dinner, making sure my daughter is fed and put to bed and that everything is set up for the next day. Not to mention a million other obligations I have that I've committed to because I'm a looney tune overachiever. In other words, I'm tired as fuck. 

Before I tell you what happened, let me give you a little background on the hypocrite ballsack I'm going to reference in my story. 

Hypocrite Ballsack, let's call him, Pig Fucker, is a lazy ass bullshitter who does nothing but make disgusting comments about is teeny tiny pecker in the most inappropriate situations, at the most inappropriate times. I don't think I've ever seen this guy lift a finger in his fucking life without whining and crying to someone to help him figure out how to write his own goddamn name on a piece of fucking paper. He likes to stand around and act as if he's accomplishing something, when in reality, he's itching his asshole and sniffing his finger, hoping that nobody notices.

So Pig Fucker decided to make a comment to me today, where he basically told me that I do nothing. Albeit, he was attempting to make a joke, but there was a hint of seriousness in it that made my fists clench so hard that I had to stop myself from bashing his fucking face in until there was nothing left. Let's review, Pig Fucker, King of Bullshitting and Itchy Assholes told ME that I do NOTHING. NOTHING.

MOTHERFUCKER, LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I DO. I wake up at 5:30am every GODDAMN MORNING and wake EVERYONE UP to get their asses moving to get ready for work and school, I DRIVE from PHOENIXVILLE TO MOUNT PENN to drop my daughter off, then I go to work, THINK A LOT, get off, pick up my daughter, and drive all the way home. The SECOND I walk in the door at 6:30pm I'm picking up shit, I'm vacuuming, I'm making dinner, I'm making lunches for the next day, I'm picking out clothes for myself and my daughter the next day, I'm putting my daughter down (reading her books and shit), I'm doing anywhere from 3-4 hours of homework a night, I'm PAYING BILLS, I'm scoping opportunities for jewelry parties for my now SECOND JOB, I'm consoling my husband after he's had a shitty day at work, and THEN maybe THEN at 12am I get to lay down and sleep. Rinse and repeat. This is not to mention the millions of other obligations I've agreed to to help out my friends and family, because I try to help out everyone as much as possible, even if it means fucking myself out of having a break ever.

So FUCK YOU HYPOCRITE PIG FUCKER. Go shove your hand down your fucking throat until it comes out your asshole so you can move your hand around and do sign language because all you ever do is talk out your ass. I try so fucking hard to get good grades, learn at my job, help others in anyway I can, that the biggest insult you can say to me is that I DO NOTHING. 

Anyone who knows me, who REALLY knows me, understands that I cannot sit down until all of the shit I need to do for the day is completed. I can't let myself do it. If I try to take a night off, or go on Facebook for longer than a couple minutes at a time when I've got homework waiting, I kill myself with guilt until I finish doing what I need to do. By the time I'm finished for the day, I am so fucking tired that I can't see straight to sit on the toilet and piss. Hence, my coffee addiction during the day. Now you all know the one thing not to say to me, because I swear the next time anyone even INSINUATES that I do nothing, they will be getting anthrax in the mail.

In short folks, if you find yourself saying shit about yourself that isn't true on a daily basis, JUST STOP IT. STOP. EVERYONE KNOWS you are a lying asshole. You have no credibility whatsoever. And do not make the mistake of criticizing others, because one of these days, you will get punched in the fucking face. WORD.

THE FORGOTTEN STORY OF RANDY THE DRAGON for Jesse

Jesse's story request: "Anything thats about me usually entertains me, I want a medieval romance with me as the hero...and dragons...lots of dragons and wenches"


Okay... you asked for it...

THE FORGOTTEN STORY OF RANDY THE DRAGON

In the far away land of Assylvania, there was a prince named Sir-Dix-A-Lot who lived in a large castle made of gold, diamonds, and all things bling. Sir-Dix-A-Lot was a complete dick, in that he owned a dragon name Randy who he fed peasants and bitches to for fun. Randy the dragon was actually a nice dragon, but he was held in captivity by the mean prince, and, when faced with starvation, he had no choice but to chow down on the peasants and bitches that Sir-Dix-A-Lot fed to him daily. Sir-Dix-A-Lot would laugh and laugh as he listened to the chortled screams of the dying peasants and bitches. He was not a very nice man.

One day, a lowly villager named Jessicus Largus Member Maximus the 3rd, A.K.A. Jesse, was chosen for a dragon feeding. Jesse was not very happy with this decision, and said as much to Sir-Dix-A-Lot as he was dragged from his home and to the courtyard where the dragon feedings were held.

"Fucketh this shit! Thou art a dick, and unfair to boot!" yelled Jesse, as the guards tugged him towards his final destination.

"Haha, ho ho ho, thou art a bit cranky today, eh? Randy shall quiet you quickly with his slobbering jaws of power, tally-ho!", laughed Sir-Dix-A-Lot, with his pompously smug smuginess.

As Jesse was being dragged through town, he couldn't help but notice the other villagers that had lined the streets in anticipation for the dragon feeding.

"Savages, the lot of you!" Jesse screamed, surprised to find several of his family members waving their goodbyes as he faced certain death. "Bitches and thieves!" he yelled to his mother, who seemed to be giving a Miss America wave with a big smile on her face as she watched her son flailing and kicking at the guards. You see, dragon feedings in this old timey town were normal and quite exciting. Everybody knew that anyone could be picked at anytime, which was terrifying - but didn't diminish the coolness of watching a person getting eaten by a dragon. 

Once Jesse was thrown into middle of the courtyard, a loud "RAWWRRRR" bellowed from within the depths of the confine. The crowd cheered as Randy the dragon stepped out in his huge, green-winged glory. To his surprise, Jesse was soon joined by a busty woman with long red hair, who was tossed right on top of him as the dragon neared the middle of the compound.

"Well hello there, fine day, is it not - lovely lady?" Jesse said smoothly as he picked the red-haired wench off of him and stood her upright.

"Thou fuckin crazy?? Fuck-eth thou, and fuck-eth this dragon! I didn't sign up for this shit! My name art Sarah, and thou can take thoust hands off my bust now!" Sarah the wench said quite snottily.

"My bad!" Jesse replied, just noticing that he was still grasping the lady's bosom. 

Randy the dragon had been watching the scene with great amusement, and was already full from eating seven peasants/bitches earlier that day. He had a hard life, doing dances and flying around for Sir-Dix-A-Lot at his command. Quite frankly, this dragon was a tired motherfucker, and didn't want to put up with Sir-Dix-A-Lot's shit any longer. So he bent his head down close to Jesse and Sarah and said in his hissing dragon voice,

"Listen up ya'll, I ain't gonna eat you. But I think we should fuck up Sir-DickFace real hard, na mean?"

"HOLY FUCK A TALKING DRAGON!" Jesse and Sarah screamed in unison.

"YO bitches ya'll need to CHILL!" Randy barked. Jesse and Sarah looked at each other in confusion, they weren't understanding what Randy was saying, since he was speaking in dragangster (or, "gangsta-speak" in current times). 

"I'm tryina say CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Here's the deal, big dude, you go run around the courtyard with your wanger out and distract the crowd. Red-headed bitch, you act like the big dude said some fucked up shit to you and start cryin, and I'll use my dragon breath to fuck up Sir-Dickweed and light him on fire and shit, kapeesh?" 

"YES! Thoust dragon art a genius!" said Jesse, quite excited, and he pulled out his junk and started running around like a madman. Sarah took her cue and cried like the bitch she was, screaming about other women and last chances. While Jesse and Sarah caused a commotion and distracted the prince and the crowd, Randy walked over to Sir-Dix-A-Lot in his royal seat at the court and blew a fireball right up his ass. The prince was dead within moments.

"YAYYY! SIR JESSE! THE DRAGON WHISPERER!! HE DEFEATED THE MEAN PRINCE!!!" roared the crowd. 

"YES!!! I'M A HERO! JUST LIKE MY MOMMY ALWAYS SAID I'D BE!!" Jesse yelled, still running around with his junk out, this time with his fists raised triumphantly in the air. Randy on the other hand, was quite upset about the whole thing. It was his idea to kill the prince! Those dumbass peasant bitch motherfuckers did nothing! 

And so, Randy the dragon settled into a deep depression and eventually died of loneliness and starvation after swearing off peasants/bitches and becoming a vegan. Jesse became King of all of Assylvania, and took Sarah the bitch/wench to be his wife. They had fifty-two children who all grew up to be successful lawyers and doctors, and nobody ever spoke of Randy the dragon or Sir-Dix-A-Lot again.

The END.

THE TRUTH ABOUT AREA 51 for Jen

There is a place on this planet so evil that no one can comprehend its diabolical plots. It is a secret the U.S Government has been hiding from the public for years. We all know where it is, we all know its name, but we know not of what is inside: Area 51.

The truth is so shocking no one would believe it, but it's true. I know, because I've been there. Purely by accident of course. You see, I've created a teleportation machine. It took me approximately five days, and on the fifth day - my machine worked. I was tinkering inside of the main chamber of the device when a penny dropped out of my pocket. The moment the penny ricocheted off of the wall of the unit I was working on, a spark appeared and I was somewhere else. Turns out copper was the ingredient that made the machine tick. Funny how money can solve so many problems in this world.

I shit my pants. I mean literally, I pooped myself. It was a pretty intense transfer, and I totally wasn't prepared and I was just about to head to the bathroom before that penny dropped out of my pocket and zonked me into this new place. How embarassing to finally perfect teleportation technology, be transported somewhere else, and have to explain to whoever I met on the other side why a distinct smell of shit was wafting around me. Luckily, as I opened my eyes to inspect my surroundings, I discovered that I had been transported to some sort of grocery warehouse - or so I thought.

The machine had placed me, strategically almost, in front of a wall of toilet paper. 

"THANK GOD!" I thought, as I grabbed one of the rolls and cleaned myself of the horrendous atrocity I had commited in my pants. After I finished the deed, I began to look around. The warehouse was huge, but there was no one inside. It was well lit with security devices that seemed way unnecesary for a grocery warehouse. 

As I started walking, I inspected the items in the warehouse. I stopped in front of what appeared to be stacks and stacks of Pepsi. Being thirsty from my travels, I grabbed one and cracked it open to taste the sweet sugary nectar inside. To my surprise, the Pepsi was clear. And then it hit me. This was no ordinary can of Pepsi. This was Crystal Pepsi, which was discontinued in 1993 after sales fell short. 

"Where the hell am I?" I said out loud, savoring the sweet drink that I had missed for years. 

Right next to the stack of Crystal Pepsi was a palette full of Strawberry Pop Tarts Crunch Cereal. The next palette over contained stacks and stacks of Hi-C Ecto Cooler. 

"Oh my God! These are all of the products I used to love but got discontinued!!" I shouted out loud, and almost shit my pants again when I heard somebody yell:

"WHO IS THAT!"

Out from behind a bin full of Crispy M&M's and 7-Up gum came a small, nervous looking man in a lab coat. He looked angered and shocked to see me there.

"Who are you and why are you here?" the man asked.

"First why don't you tell me what the fuck this place is!" I said, grabbing a package of Crispy M&M's and chomping them down before he could reprimand me.

"This is Area 51. It is a highly secure zone, no one can get in or out - who are you working with?" the man in the lab coat said, now looking curious.

"Well you see labcoat man, I created this teleportation device, and before I knew it I accidentally zapped myself here. But wait, if this is Area 51, THIS is what you've been hiding for all of these years?? All of my favorite discontinued products??" I responded, starting to get upset.

"These products are the government's special supply. No one else is allowed to have access to them. Only the top 1% of the America gets these products and they pay a pretty penny for them." he continued.

"YOU GUYS ARE MONSTERS!" I screamed, and began shoving my pockets full of 7-Up gum. 

"You don't want to do that." the labman replied, and slowly pulled a gun out of his pocket.

"Jesus Christ!" I screamed, and began to ran, but it was too late.

I got shot in the head and died, thus sealing the secret of Area 51 forever, again.

Insanity is the Fate of Reality for Andy

There I was, kicking it back at my computer desk, chomping on some Cap'n Crunch, when a message rolled across my computer screen,

"DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE MATRIX IS, MALORY?"

Assuming it was a pop-up ad, and lacking complete self-control towards ignoring advertisements, I recklessly typed: 

"HELLZ YEAH!"

A knock on the door startled me. I rose from my swirly chair slowly, being careful not to trip over the half mangled computers and wires that littered my floor. Oh don't worry, I'm not a hacker. I just think broken computers are so "in" right now as far as interior decorating is concerned.

I rested my hand on the doorknob, half expecting it to turn by itself. I held my breath, and opened the door. 

"JEW GOTTA TURN YOUR FUCKIN MUSIC DOWN!" shouted Rita, my Mexican neighbor who filled the doorway with her 300 pound frame.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry Rita, I promise I'll turn it off, I don't feel well anyways." I blurted out, partially relieved.

"OKAY JEW KNOW JEW DON LISTEN I KILL YOUR CAT!" she half yelled, half spit at me. 

"Okay! Okay! I promise I'm turning it off right now!" I begged.

She made sure to give me a proper stinkeye before waddling off to her dingy apartment down the hall from mine. 

"Bitch." I muttered under my breath as I closed the door and sat back down in my computer chair. Seconds later, I was startled again by another knock at the door. I stomped over and swung it open, ready for another showdown with Rita, but was startled to find none other than Laurence Fishburne standing in my doorway.

"Holy shit! You're Laurence Fishburne!" I shouted in his face.

"Malory, you have been chosen. The truth is out there. It is looking for you and it will find you if you want it to." Laurence said, mysteriously. 

"Wait a minute, what the fuck is going on here?" I said, a bit freaked out.

"Malory, hold out your hands." 

I did as I was told, simply because he was Laurence Fishburne, and it's not everyday that Laurence Fishburne comes to your apartment and asks you to hold out your hands. He dropped a pack of Gushers into my left hand, and a pack of Dunkaroos into my right hand, and continued his speech,

"If you eat the Dunkaroos, the story ends. If you eat the Gushers, you are going to find all sorts of crazy shit out that you may or may not like."

"Aww shit, I haven't had Dunkaroos in so long - but... Gushers are pretty good too..." I went against any sort of reasoning and ate the Gushers. Technically, Dunkaroos beat Gushers anyday, but I was thinking about eating some Gushers earlier that day and it just made sense at that moment.

And then I woke up. 

No, I mean I WOKE UP and remembered where I was and what I was.

"Damnit, too much sugar always makes her fall asleep" I thought in English, as I floated about. Lately I had only been getting about fourteen hours of playtime, since my avatar - Malory, kept falling asleep which wakes me up.

You see, there are so many of us atoms, but we don't keep good company - so we play games. My other atom friends and I like to play a game called "life", which is about a race called "humans" that we create millions of avatars for and take through various hilarious and tragic scenarios. The only problem is, some atoms play "life" too frequently and get addicted to it. They mess around and make the humans kill eachother and totally ruin it for the rest of us. It's pretty annoying.

One of these days I might take up another game and just start nuking everything in "life", but until another atom thinks of a better game I'm sticking with this one. Also, all my friends play this one so it just makes sense.