Fresh, Hot Wastes of Time

Know anyone with a mildly hairy back? Point them to this site where they can feel bald-backed in comparison.
Medical fetish toys. Really.
How does Brundle-fly poop?
How to give off the impression that you might be gay.
The dog died about a year later. I think I would, too, if I were his dog.

Titties and beer.

I had the strangest dream that Hillary Clinton was at the mall wearing jeans and deliberately left them at half mast to call attention to herself. Someone told me it was just an accident, and I insisted it was on purpose and showed just how conniving she could be, because if she left the zipper all the way down someone would be sure to tell her, so she left it halfway down because it would get attention, but if anyone stared too long she could call them a pervert.

I also had a dream that I was friends with Selma Hayek and she set out to kill Nicholae Carpathia through some vampire powers. We were in New Orleans staying on a hotel on top of Antoines, and had something like ten million dollars in cash and a bunch of guns in the hotel room. I called down to the concierge to make us a dinner reservation at 8 for my birthday that evening.

I had a pet buzzard in the room named Bobby that my two year old pulled off his wings and killed. We’d been feeding him dog food and trash. He smelled but I loved him.

We had to stash the cash and guns because we were going down to dinner, so hub put it behind an armoire and piled pillows on the sides. I grabbed two huge wads of cash and stuffed them in either side of my bra. Out the window we saw Carpathia and we barely missed seeing him in the restaurant. We ended up calling an uneasy truce with him after he killed Selma’s vampire friend.

Then the war between good and evil was over and we went to church, where the people were acting like nothing happened.

I really need to stop reading those silly Left Behind books before bed.

The fundamental interconnectedness of all things is like the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, but for everything.

You want to know how I found this link? It’s because I got a hit on this page for ‘breastmilk sucked my men’. Yeah, you heard me. The interconnectedness link is number one and two… and my page is number three. I’m so honored.

There’s a cat in the kettle at the Peking Moon
How to date Asian women, a class for those of you searching on my website for nude hot import girls.
Build your own South Park character
Ever since I heard about the Fried Twinkie, I’ve been craving one.

I had a dream last night that I took the baby over to a friend’s house. The friend had a rat infestation and there was rat poo everywhere. The baby got bit by an elusive and very rare caffeinesnake, and I tried to access their computer to find out what to do about it but I couldn’t go into that area of their living room unless someone beeped me in on their FBI box. There was a special sort of grey Glock sitting next to the computer that was more like a laser gun than a bullet gun.

Never did find out what to do with the caffeinesnake bite.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I find this sculpture very, very disturbing. “Well-loved kitty” indeed. You know what else is scary? It’s on backorder… and they want $60 for it.

I weep for the future.

One more reason I’m glad I’m not Catholic. I mean, really. I’m just speechless.
Maybe the priests should look into this for their gratification instead.

I don’t have anything against Catholics specifically. Some of my best friends are Catholic. (I know, I know…) I do have a problem with their leadership, though. The whole sordid mess lately makes me sick to my stomach. Molesting a child and using the fear of God to keep him quiet is abominable. Those sick men who did it will have quite a bit of explaining to do – if not in this world, then the next.

Insane. I hit the century mark today – 115 visitors.

My older daughter keeps doing bad things to my younger daughter, then getting this evil smile on her face. I call it “The Damien Smile”. Hub and I talked about it the other night just before falling asleep, and I had to reassure him that she’s not evil, but she is two and that’s as close to evil as you get this side of puberty. He was ready to call a priest. I remember after we had her christened, she would make these horrible creepy double-voice noises and we wondered if the baptism took. It was my feeling that the holy water would have left blisters if she were truly evil.

On to other thoughts…

My mother died, quite unexpectedly, when I was 16. For years afterward (and even now, occasionally) I had dreams that it was all an elaborate plot, that she faked her death for some reason and nobody would explain why. She’d just come back into my life like nothing happened. In my dreams I would be so emotionally mixed up: hurt, that she left without saying goodbye; relieved, that she came back; and resentful, that she felt like she could come back and try to assert herself as a mother again.

My father died after a long illness when I was 21, so it was quite expected and I had a chance to say goodbye properly, more or less. I don’t recall ever having those types of dreams about him. I think they stemmed from my utter and complete lack of closure with my mom. I mean, my last words with her were an argument about going to bed, for cry eye eye.

She came to visit me once after she died. Honestly. It was at her wake, at my aunt’s house, where I was sitting on a footstool trying to eat something but not wanting to. Mom put her hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear to sit up straight. It was so real I could smell her. How typical, too – she was always wanting me to sit and stand straight. You’d think, though, that she’d tell me goodbye or something rather than “sit up straight”.

My dad came to visit me once, too, about 5 years after he died. I was brushing my teeth and thinking about him because there’s a painting that I have that Mom bought because it reminded her of him. I was looking at that painting and heard him call my name, clear as day. The exact same way he used to call me to breakfast every morning.

He was the early riser, not Mom. Dad was the one who used to wake me and feed me before school. He’d make me breakfast every morning – usally either poached eggs or peanut butter and jelly on English muffins. And either hot tea or cocoa. He did nice things in a quiet way. My mom was totally anti-sugar when I was a kid, but my dad and I shared a raging sweet tooth, and he would slip Three Musketeers bars under my pillow so I would find them before bed. He used to pat the “shave and a haircut” part on my leg so I’d pat “two bits” back on his. He was a quiet man, but personified the saying that still waters run deep.

I used to have horrible guilt about the way Mom and I left off. I know now that no matter how we had left off I would feel guilty, and that it was just a coincidence that we were bitching at each other. Well not precisely a coincidence, since I was a horrible nasty teenager at the time, but you get my drift.

Anyway, if you’re going to have your parents die, I highly recommend that you not do it as a kid.