We continue to have bizarre dreams. I know, I know, not another freakin' blogger blathering on about their personal dreams, the symbolisms, the blah, blah, blah. Who cares? If you don't, then move along, because here it goes...

Yesterdays dream was a work dream. I'm sitting at my desk at the bookstore, it's old school; on a raised platform behind the cashwrap so as to appear like the Queen God O' Books (I like it). Anyhoo, a song comes on the radio that I absolutely hate, but the radio, for whatever reason, is not on my desk, but down by the registers. I ask my hippie-chick employee to "turn off that fricken song", I hate it and she replies "No, it's not a bad song, it's a good song." After giving her the evil eye (Bush won't know his eye is missing at all) I asked her to turn it off again. She laughs at me, I throw a little hissy fit and get all pissy with her and shout "You're so fucking stubborn!" and promptly awake to my alarm clocks' annoying little song. I thought the song in the dream sounded familiar, damn clocks. I rarely dream about employees, let alone work and didn't think much of it until later in the day when my hippie-chick employee took it a step too far when confronting a shoplifter.

My city is a former middle-class neighborhood of Seattle. As the population increased, it incorporated and eventually became a city unto itself. Let's just say this once middle-class city, with it's Nordstrom and cozy waterfront neighborhoods, has become a lower middle class swampland. It's not the city's fault entirely. Boeing downsizing and then eventually leaving altogether has trashed most cities that once depended on them. The mall that was once a carpeted, chic, boutique laced funky wonder became a place for Gang activity and after a shooting occurred 12 years ago, it has been downhill since. Nordstroms left 10 years ago and now this city will have two Wal Marts within a five mile radius. Make it a 15 mile radius and you've got 3 fucking Wal Marts, one of which is open 24 fucking hours-a-day. Crime is rampant, especially lately, the economy is shit, the cost of living outrageous, and unemployment is out of control, so needless to say, my city is getting ghetto.

I've always been the go-to girl for shaping up a store with high loss. I take little shit from anyone, I don't ass kiss and I have a zero-tolerance policy for fuckers that take my books without paying for them. At times, I go above and beyond but I know my limits -- once they are out of the mall, I let security or the police try to get them.

Well, yesterday, my young hippie-chick employee ran after a guy who set off the alarm. She was with security, but once the guy hit the city sidewalk, security could do nothing more. Ever persistant, or dare I say stubborn, Hippie-chick kept asking the guy to return to the store or show the contents of his bag and he promptly belted her twice in the face, breaking a tooth and surly bruising her sweet little hippie-chick face. Admirable, but stupid as fuck. Security had witnessed the episode and promptly called the police who apprehended the weak-ass-girl-hitting-fucktard. My afternoon was littered with legalities and blah, blah. By the end of my shift, we found out the fucker didn't even have a book, although he did have a bunch of Target's merchandise, to which Target's shamed plain-clothed security people thanked Hippie-chick profusely. Oy. This guy will go away for a long while and hopefully, our company will still pay to fix her tooth.

Was my dream a precursor for the day? I'd say hell, yeah. Like I said I never dream about work or employees and when I do, it's usually about a confrontation I need to have with them and, possibly in the depths of my mind, I knew I needed to talk with Hippie-chick about being less aggressive with shoplifters. It's not safe and not worth losing a tooth or, worse, your life for. We fight to stay alive in a box-store world. Yeah, they're shutting our ass down in a few months, but we take pride in our jobs in the "little book store that could." We have at least one freaky incident a week in the ghetto mall and we've become accustomed to it, but this time it got us back and that's a goddamned shame.

Last nights' dreams weren't quite precognitive as much as twisted; I'm at a party, drink in hand and I'm talking with party goers, when I hear "Cupie, come sit by me." I look at the guy. I don't know him that I can remember, his mannerisms and voice tell me he's a raging Queen (I attract 'em, don't know why, it's a mystery). So, I sit by the fella and I instantly recall who he is: Tom Delay, and he's a little bent out of shape after being indicted for being a naughty little Republican. I try to tell him to lighten up, he did a bad bad thing and now he has to pay the piper to which he said "Cupie, I know you're right, but I'm Tom Delay!!" To which I said "Dude, you are so gay. Live true, little dude, walk the talk and try not to be such a whiney little bitch." Then the dream morphed into me playing Larry David's wife in "Curb Your Enthuasiam." I think I just wanted to do him. I'm insane; a wrinkly old cantankerous bastard and I wanted to do him. I didn't. I woke up to a new day; a day of baseball (we'll lose, but I've earned a beer or three I think) and a day of yet another damn mammogram. Twist my tit, thank-you-very-much! How I do enjoy being a girl, a manager and a woman of tweaky brain waves. It's exhausting but somebody has to do it. Have a wonderful day folks and always expect the unexpected, because hurricanes happen, shoplifters will attack, the righteous and arrogant "evil doers" --republican or not--will be indicted and; personally, no offense, but I don't want to see you in my dreams.

Better schmetter. Day 4 without a constant stream of sugar running through my veins, I have a headache, I have no desire to finish the sentence. I did, I finished the sentence, I'm so damn proud. Sigh.

Here's the ABC's of an idea on the idea of ideas:
What makes an idea viral? Seth Godin knows.

For an idea to spread, it needs to be sent and received.
No one "sends" an idea unless:
a. they understand it
b. they want it to spread
c. they believe that spreading it will enhance their power (reputation, income, friendships) or their peace of mind
d. the effort necessary to send the idea is less than the benefits

No one "gets" an idea unless:
a. the first impression demands further investigation
b. they already understand the foundation ideas necessary to get the new idea
c. they trust or respect the sender enough to invest the time

I have an idea, somebody smuggle me some goddamned chocolate covered anything. Have a super day.

So I gathered up all the sugar in the apartment, most of the Twinkies went into building this huge-ass Pink Bunny Peep, which I will eat in 20 years and promptly chase that bitch with bottle of good Scotch, shortly afterwards I will fall into a sugar coma and awake after three days, enlightened, hungry, hungover and ready to lead the free world. Actually, the bunny is art and in an amazing feat of willpower I found another M & M, please note that I will not eat the candy coated coated chocolate yumminess, but rather, I will donate the found M & M to the art project, it can be the bunny's nose, bellybutton, whatever, I'm all about sacrifice & art.

Stay the fuck off my computer. I don't want you tracking my visits anywhere, I don't want a larger penis or bigger boobs and as tempting as free porn can be, I don't want to see chicks with low self esteem and men whose self esteem lives in their dinglespit go at it. I just don't want it, I didn't ask for it. And don't think your safe Pop Up advertisers, I wouldn't buy your shit if you begged me, I'll go out of my fucking way to ignore your product, because you didn't have the goddamned decency to care that I, a consumer, are highly annoyed that you've interfered with my browsing experience, it's personal, it's my time, not yours to pimp shit I don't and won't need.

To the blogs that have loaded their site with pop-ups, stop it, your not gonna make a fucking dime from me, I may have been interested in your opinion at one time, but you lost me with the pop-up for weight loss pills, fuck that, I'd eat the damn ad if I could.

I loathe, despise and hate spammers, pop-up and spyware, get a real fucking job, all right, I'm done. Thanks. Fuckers.

My rather largish Siamese cat, Sophie, played with the carpet in the bathroom and shaped it into a little Pride Rock and got all Simba on my ass. I'm sitting on the toilet pissing my little heart out and Sophie stands on top of her self-created Pride Rock and meows at me whilst posing in Simba fashion. It kinda freaked me out.

I've totally lost sight of the blogosphere in the few short days I ignored my computer, you can miss a lot of stuff and oddly, I feel no different from the lack of perusing blogs, I'm ashamed, clear-headed, but blog shamed, lol, I'm over it.

Golly, I see Michelle Malkin has stayed the same; trashing children, mothers and overall belittling the human spirit, the rites of passion etc...all because they don't love a President who continually and constantly lets us down. Michelle, perhaps a fucking happy suppository to help you understand that it's O.K. not to like a man who lies to you everyday and tells you he loves you. That may be cool in your camp, but I find it a bit passive/aggressive and I don't have time for the shit, ever.

I could go on, but I have to walk to work today, it's part of the old regime I conveniently forgot about when I made this blog. More time to spew, less time to move my ass and stay healthy and fit. I've been blogging for 3 years, September 1st...my blog birthday passed and I forgot completely about it, I must have been knee-deep in a box of Ding Dongs or Hurricane obsessed, whatever the case, it's been a fun ride and I appreciate all the people that stop by or visit regularly. Thanks a million, a million what? I'll let you know later. ;)

See, I wasn't gone that long, now you all can relax, I just had some serious brain overload and needed to rest my mind or lose it. I got word on my stores closure the end of March or mid-April. Now, there is the possibility of a store in the Podunk backwoods of a different County, far away from the city, but that's not me, I love the Mountains, I don't want to live in them, thanks. So unemployment looms in the distance, change is a coming, you can smell it, don't worry, I'll shower in a minute.

Ever heard of prediabetes? Well, I got the word this week that I am in the state of prediabetes a precursor to never being allowed Ben & Jerry's and Beer for dinner, EVER again. Goddamnitall, flurkin' slibbityslop! Yeah, so, um...it's either I start eating like a normal person, or start checking my blood sugar every five fucking minutes, gah. These past few days I've been in the midst of saying goodbye to the diet I've known for the past few years, makin' me tummy all rotund and my ass shake when I walk. I said goodbye to the baked potato, yum, I said goodbye to the Pinwheel cookies, the Ben and Jerry's and the big ass plate of pasta. Adios to using a Twinkie as a palate cleanser, ta-ta to beer for dessert. Actually, I gave up the weekly beers a few years ago, the smallest amount of booze got me shit-faced and the hangover sucked up a day of life I'm unwilling to part with anymore, and the fact I was full on stupid for days after whooping it up concerned me, I now know why.

So, needless to say, all this has been overwhelming to the point where I actually had to use the anxiety/happy pill the Doctor gave me a week or two ago. I didn't want to ever have to take them, but I know me, when the heart speeds up, the brain tweaking the whiteness that closes in, not to mention the shortness of breath and the want to reach for comfort food dipped in chocolate and chased with beer. E-fucking-gads. The pill worked nice, the heart rate went back to normal, the 12 trillion thoughts eating my brain turned into 12 manageable thoughts, whew. Today I start the exercise regime, and go to the grocery store to buy foods that will help regulate my fucking blood sugar, although, I still have a half pint of Ben & Jerry's to conquer and one more potato to bake, tomorrows another day. I have one last baseball game to attend, so I might fall of the sugar wagon one day, but for the most part, I like winning, even against myself, so I'm more than willing to tow the fucking line. I want to have chocolate cake and beer for my 50th, 60th and consecutive birthdays so you bet your ass I'll be good. I thought I post the pre-weight loss pic so you can follow my progress
It's not going to be an easy task, the upcoming Holidays and all the life changes, but I can do it, I've done it before, but this time my fucking life depends on it...bleh. No more midnight Oreo binges, I swear and trust me, I swear a lot. ;)

Really. ;)

xoxo

You are a Social Liberal (61% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (15% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid

Being in the customer service business is full-on-exhausting and at times humiliating, personally, I'm not a big fan of ass-kissing unless your name is Jared Leto or Jon Stewart and that ass is covered in chocolate syrup, so it was interesting to witness the Hermes US rep kissing Oprah's ass on her season opener yesterday. If I had an employee treat a customer badly, I'd reprimand her ass and get on with it. So, when Oprah felt the need to clear up what happened at Hermes this past summer on her show yesterday, it was like watching her rip the wings from an insect and then eat them, thanks for empowering bitchy, self-involved shoppers all around the world. If the store was closed, the store was fucking closed. Yes, there are limits to customer service, like when it infringes on your personal life and time. I love Oprah and I'm not ashamed to say it, she's done and continues to do a lot of good, but don't set the example by making my job harder than it already is.

Closing time is closing time, not time for you to beg for something you should have thought out more carefully, bought earlier, etc. To make such a stink about a snobby European salebitch, is petty, no matter who you are. Bringing that Hermes rep to his knees was bullshit, I swear, the guy looked like he was shitting his pants and holding back tears of fucking shame, bullshit. No one needs the overpriced trinkets, it's a status thing and it's bullshit. No one needs a purse valued in the thousands, for ANY reason, trust me on this. For the most part, you will be treated as you treat others and in the froo-froo over-priced crap world, that sentiment applies as well. Be nice people, salespeople, talk show hosts, just be nice, think better, shop better, take a fucking class in time management, please.

"North Korea agreed Monday to end its nuclear weapons program in return for security". Wow, nifty and all that shit, who would have thought that if you stopped bullying the school bully, he' lighten up? "Officials stopped using the accusatory language President Bush once used when he called North Korea a member of the "axis of evil" and called the nation's leader, Kim Jong Il, a tyrant." Do you think Kim Jong saw Team America and he said to himself, "Day can't send dem, I don't wanna die, do you really think Amewican women like dookey on dare face during sex? Pwease, get me one NOW!" or perhaps it was the threat of Ellen Degeneres hosting the North Korean People's Choice Award, who can say, but lets hope its for real, I mean, you can't get rich off of the atomically obliterated, can ya now?

We haven't been in a very bloggy mood this week, maybe it's the Sudoku or the change in weather or worse, my brain has fallen and can't get up. It could be due to the fact I'm in the midst of 3 books right now and the puzzles have become more difficult and I have to tweak my strategy. Maybe we're burnt out on politics, I couldn't give a shit what the president says anymore, he's the bad boyfriend in a wife-beater tank I'm choosing to kick out of my life. Don't say one thing and do another, it makes me wanna set bitches on fire. I don't care the Britney Federline gave birth to the anti-Christ this week. I don't care that Renee Zellweger grew a brain and is divorcing her stalker, "you had me at hello" my ass and don't talk to my ass, the only response you'll get is puff of rancid stinkage. Bah.

Stuff:

Ooopsie Award: Unintentional penis on religious book called "After You've Blown It"

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

Angry Black Bitch Does Presidential Address, cheers!

Absolutely Useless Bullshit on Ice

5 Cups Franklin D. Roosevelt – Massive aid package, healthcare coverage, job training, federal land for homes program and a public works program.

2 Cups Truman with Reagan Preservative – Take responsibility…for the Federal involvement…which you didn’t know about…because you trusted the people around you…who made mistakes…while you were not in the room…and you can’t recall who/what/when/where…what was the question again?

1 Teaspoon Clinton – Profess a great understanding and concern for poverty. Note – in this small quantity Clinton does not have a huge impact on the overall mix.

2/3 Cup Pure Reagan – Announce incentives for entrepreneurship with the explanation that tax breaks for companies will create jobs. Note – Reagan is an artificial job stimulant and may have a bitter aftertaste commonly referred to as trickle down recession.

2 White, very white, amazingly white Eggs – Make sure that NBC flashes to two separate shelter shots to show evacuee (egg) reactions to your plan. Note – brown eggs are unpredictable and angry and may turn on your ass, which is why you want to use white eggs for public preparation.

1 Cup Vinegar – Promise a lot but present no plan to fund this shit.

10 Cups Bullshit (level off each cup) – Announce a congressional investigation to oversee the executive branch investigation, both of which are being led by the very motherfuckers who will benefit from a fruitless investigation into this mess!

Mix until smooth, pour over the entire country and bake for the next three years…until some brave and/or stupid fucker takes over in 2008 and actually tries to eat a portion of Absolute Bullshit on Ice…

Damn she's good.

------------------->^o^
And finally, I bring you the nude, the snarky, Smiley Muffin and her snarkalicious CAT NEWS, Funny shit. A blogger's pet of choice is the cat, I mean we're alike in so many ways. Feed us, we will purr. Pet us, we will purr, clean our shit box, we'll purr. Tell us something we don't want to hear, we'll stare at you like the idiot you are and promptly lick our crotch...um...or not. Splash us with water, we'll slash the fuck out of you.
[link via CC Insider, insider what, I don't wanna know]

PINE MEADOW, CA—Pine Meadow resident Ed Swaney made a gruesome discovery Sunday, when he opened a package of E.L. Fudge Sandwich Cookies and found a tiny, golden-fingernailed appendage believed to be an elfin index finger.
"It was horrifying," said 43-year-old Swaney, a shoe salesman and frequent snacker. "At first, I thought it was just a broken-off little cookie chunk, but then my tongue brushed a tiny bone on the end, and I spit it out."

The rest of the story


I think my head just exploded from laughing.

We have a new addiction, Sudoku, I can't stop; puzzle after puzzle I'm all... the one goes there, but not there and the nine, oh the nine, sweet nine, you go there. The four could go there or there, but the seven is next to the three and it likes it, I like it. One through nine in nine consecutive squares; each vertical line - nine, each horizontal the same, it's crazy, it's wonderful. My eyes crossed a half hour ago and I've been bumping into things, slurp. Anyhoo, here's Kurt Vonnegut's
LIBERAL CRAP I NEVER WANT TO HEAR AGAIN list:

Give us this day our daily bread. Oh sure.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Nobody better trespass against me. I'll tell you that.

Blessed are the meek.

Blessed are the merciful. You mean we can't use torture?

Blessed are the peacemakers. Jane Fonda?

Love your enemies - Arabs?

Ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The hell I can't! Look at the Reverand Pat Robertson. And He is as happy as a pig in shit.

Now, here's Mr. Vonnegut on The Daily Show and that my dears made me happy as a pig in shit, whipping Pat Robertson with Jane Fonda's peacebeads/riding crop, Sudoku!

Craziness abounds, indeed. Mmmmkay...here's Mike Brown's first draft of his resignation, via Neal Pollacks fabulous brain and Seattle's fabulous The Stranger, sudoku...nine..*twitch*

"Katrina exposed serious problems in our response capability at all levels of government, and to the extent that the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility,"

Baby, I'm sorry I hit you, I'll never do it again, I PROMISE, you know I love you.

A Blogger recieves a cease and desist order from author Garrison Keillor which goes to show you, old fashioned down-home humor and satire don't necessarily make good blog soup, but rather great blog traffic. [via bookslut]

On September 11th, 2005, I attended a Mariner game, a remembrance of the lives lost 4 years brought many tears, we lost the game to boot, but on that day two things brought me some joy; my youngest niece Aimee holding her flag so high and proud and probably not even aware why and the bald eagle that flew above the stadium (a northwest perk) it glided above us for quite a time then flew out of sight, very cool.

Waking up to find the Mariner Dan Wilson was retiring at seasons end bummed the shit out of me. He was injured earlier this year and hasn't returned so I'm guessing the time was right, whatever, but damn, his beautiful face and rock-hard ass will be missed!

And finally, I found this over at American Regression:

We are still quite baffled by the full-on incompetence of our leadership, the rich get richer, the poor drown. I can guarantee you that plenty of our conservative leadership are getting some good loving from women other than their betrothed, it just hasn't been a focus, what with terrorism, war and natural disaster this administration has been busy! It's sad when you wish for the days of blowjobs and female humidors.

Mike Brown trumps Bush by resigning as FEMA Director. I say trumped because as leader of the pack Bush should have fired his ass, better yet he should have never hired someone so under-qualified; horseshit can never be compared to the wrath of mother-fucking-nature, that is unless you step in horseshit in the middle of hurricane, then we'll talk, "a heck of a job" just doesn't cut it.

"I'm turning in my resignation today," Brown said. "I think it's in the best interest of the agency and the best interest of the president to do that and get the media focused on the good things that are going on, instead of me."

Brown, who said he last talked to Bush five or six days ago, said the resignation was his idea. He spoke on Saturday to White House chief of staff Andy Card, who did not request his departure, according to Brown.

At this point in the day the President Bush has no comment, although he'd rather talk to Chertoff than Brown himself, he's been busy yanno, being all presidential in the midst of destruction....and that's hard work, it's hard work.

-----We Agree----

The federal government should wipe out all debt of anyone who lost their home in the hurricane, whether they're rich or poor. To deploy two entirely appropriate cliches: Level the playing field and let everyone have a fresh start. But that's not what's happening. He's creating a mercernary, desperate society, where people are scrounging to make minimum wage to repair their destroyed neighborhoods.

Life inside a bunker can be strange, especially in defeat.

Smoosh are Asya and Chloe and when I was their age, my sister and I would geek out with Barbies and spend hours playing Mastermind and Boggle, good times, simple times. These young ladies have a CD, She Like Electric, tour and damn if they don't sound great. Wild.

My MSN Anti-Spyware thingy actually found a spyware last night, I'm impressed. Not that Spybot (now Trend Micro) finds at least 20 spyware bitches after every surfing epidsode, but what do I know. Congratualtions Microsoft, it works, it really works...heh.

Dude, you've got some ying in my yang! Dude, your yang is all up in my ying, chill! Hey, let's get Mikey he'll eat anything.

Hello people, did you lose your job because of Katrina? Are you looking for a way to feed your family Raman noodles on the camping stove outside of the tent your living in? Are you down and out and looking for a shit payin' job to get by in life, well President Bush is making that a possibility.

President Bush issued an executive order Thursday allowing federal contractors rebuilding in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to pay below the prevailing wage.

Now of course Halliburton will have the premo paying jobs, but don't count on working for them bitches, because that would disrupt the fucking poverty base and God knows we can't have that.
------------------------------------
The Food Erotic
The Salad Man writes about his New Orleans food orgy:

Then for the best flavor, he advised squeezing the crawfish's head while sucking all the juices from inside. That's where the seasoning was hiding. One firm slurp and the spice would warm the tongue and the back of the throat.

I'm not sure if I'm horny or hungry, it's usually the latter, but methinks I got girlie boner reading that. Hmmmm...
Speaking of girlie boners food, Jeff also interviewed the Jerry part of Ben & Jerry's, excuse my quiver...*gah*..

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Author Max Barry is officially a father now, bless his heart.

Here's what has surprised me so far about being a parent:

The amount of time I spend staring at her butt. I mean, not just from a distance. Up close and personal. Usually wiping things off it. And I realize that my parents must have spent plenty of time staring at my butt. That's a little disconcerting

.

Life is good, congratulations Mr.Barry!

------++++++-------+++++++---------

You can check in but you can't check out, that is, not without the right medication.

Lizzie Spurnick aka OLD HAG, one of my favorite literary blogwhores, has a new book of Poetry called "Check In" available now at Caketrain, it's only $8 saki-saki! (Eric Cartman as an asian hooker, I can't hep myself...*twitch*) Anyhoo, try it you might like it, there's a PDF sample. I'm not one for poetry, it's like cleaning up after masturbating, a solitary experience that very few understand or want to understand let alone share, but I'll give it shot, if only to keep the creative spirit alive and support a fellow artist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a finger in my ass today, my doctor says my ass is fine, we're working on all the bullshit involved with bad back/bad hips, peri-menopause (read: my uterus is falling and can't get up) I get the glory that is my first mammogram soon, yeah baby, squish me boobie, make me whole again...ugh, can't wait. The good news is the anti-biotic for the epic sinus infection, the happy pills for the occasional anxiety attacks brought on by the fact that my little bookstore is being eaten up by it's larger, fat, profit-sucking sister, but - I still have to meet all expectations and standards given to me AND demand my employee's to stay and not be bitter that their livelihood is be taken from them, be productive and help me meet the fucking expectations and standards, my ass is raw, but, my shithole is fine, thanks.

The bad news, I was told to lose a chunk of weight or name it and adopt it out if I didn't want to take care of it. Yoga and Pilates was suggested, I told the doctor I do them every once in a month or so, she suggested a class. An exercise class would mean socialization, I asked her to stick her finger in my ass again. I promised a more diligent exercise regime; I'll dust off the DVD's's and deal with the chub. Also, the good doc recommended I continue smoking until after the store closes, there are only so many happy pills a person should take at any given time, so the smoking continues until early next year it's a happy/sad situation, for me at least. So, to my endearing family and extraordinarily persistent nieces Sara and Hanna, bare with my fat ass habits for another few months and I promise I'll quit, I may fail, God knows I'm good at that, but it will be my utmost promise to you all and myself that I will stop. I'm mean, the world needs my bitter rage, don't ya think?

Too much info Cupie? I scoff, I'm all about too much information....

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Dale Chihuly has a new exhibt at The Kew in England, if you live there, go. That is all.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sophie, my rather large-ish Siamese, brought me some love today, in the shape of a dead bird, fuck. I was horrified. I've had her a few years and have never had the pleasure of such a gift. She laid it down in front of me and then picked it up again, I sprayed her with water until she took it outside again and dropped it on the patio, looking at me like I was an idiot, she came back in and I immediately went out and covered it with a planter. Now, like any good parent I thanked her profusely for such a gift, what a good kitty, such SKILL, you are AWESOME! I petted her, she purred and then I took care of the situation, I gave the birdy back to the earth, I fed both my cats a nice little can of food, meat, ah.

Sometimes I forget they are actual animals, my cats, they hunt, they are not human, but animal, but I love them like I would another person, they bring me joy, they comfort me when I have no happy pills. I can't imagine what I'd do without their unconditional love. They're part of my life, they sleep next to me, on me, they are part of me. I cannot image the ache in the hearts of the people that had to leave their beloved pets behind in the Hurricane Zone. I saw a news clip of a beautiful Golden Retriever sitting on the fucking roof of his owner's home, surrounded by water, his soulful eyes watching and waiting for his master to return, it ripped my fucking heart out and that image will stay with me forever. I'm more than willing to give to the appropriate charities that deal with the animals, it will have to wait until next week, the finger in the ass and the meds that followed took my money this week, but next week for sure, Christ, I'd adopt them all if I could, but I can only manage the two cats, one of which showed her love with a bird, tragic and beautiful, both of which without there is not life.

/end things up the ying yang.

:oP~

"FUCK SHIT ASS.
*Caution: Venting Ahead*

Ass shit cunt. Fuck.

Motherfucking ass-fucking shit.

Cock-ass-shit.Fuck."

Oh my!

Awnuld Sucks!

8==D

From: Dave Eggers (humorlessfuck@aol.com)
To: Gunberg (gunberg@giganticcocks.com)
Subject: Re: want to make ur tool real big 2340fejkbsdksf

Yes, I am interested in penis enlargement. VERY interested.

-----((O-O))----

"If the people in New Orleans were a white fetus in Iraq, the Bush Administration would have moved a hell of a lot faster."
[via]

~#~

It's the poverty, stupid.

*\*/*

Fucking RIP Lil'Buddy !

Spewed by Theresa Z » » Link »

You overslept Cupie! Whhaaaaa? Shit Happens and then you don't babble endless rants for the masses, so the best thing to do is steal links from elsewhere:

Fuck Coldplay, everything sounds like Coldplay now. Well that's just great, except it actually sounds like XTC mocking Coldplay.

The Big Chill in 30 seconds AND re-inacted by bunnies. And there you have it a couple of links to make your day less hideous and hurricane free, if only for a few minutes, I'm gracious like that and um...lazy.


[links via Best Week Ever]

Obsessive behaviors, we all have them in one shape or another. I gave my school money to the Red Cross and honestly, who was I fooling thinking that I could deal with school and a retail 4th quarter? It was easy to give the money away, the money went to a greater cause. So, yesterday instead of frolicking away my paid Holiday, I obsessed for hours in Photoshop, teaching myself and attempting to conquer the bitch on my own, my obsession mind you, but the point is is that we've all got that in us to some degree. Like say, focusing our countries funding on Terrorism, little did we fathom that the terrorist was a storm named Katrina, but fighting Terrorism has been obsessive since 9-11, the governments sole focus. Likening the fight against terror to learning Photoshop, both are intimidating, but when all our energies are focused on the one thing, we forget that Levee's do break, and the Excel spreadsheet due to our boss today wasn't finished, uh...whoopsie. So in the late hours of the evening, I finished the spreadsheet, my eyes are quit puffy today. See, I thought I was doing something good, learnin' meself something new uh-huh -- but I forgot about what I HAD to do. Puffy eyes are not flooded streets by any measure, but here we are.

The Creeping Storm an article from Civil Engineering Magazine 2003. Surprised the Levee's broke?? Phffft.
[via]

One of the benefits of working in the public is meeting people, last week I met Valerie Britt, a lovely woman who a week prior to Katrina bitchslapping the hell out of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama had recently visited New Orleans. She was kind enough to share some of her pictures with the Spew and as always I will "spew it forward".

I have never visited New Orleans, although it is on the list of places I'd like to see in my life. I'm a little perturbed that when I do see the glory that it was, it will be a more sanitized version of what previously existed. The closest I've been to New Orleans would be Disneyland's New Orleans Square (Geeky side note: New Orleans Square is, in fact, a perfect square) and trust me, they don't take too kindly to the flashing of the breastcicles for beads. Yes, they have the Jazz and the Dixieland music, but they don't have the booze and no matter how refreshing the virgin Mint juleps can be under the scorching southern Californian sun, I can only imagine it's not the same thing as an actual Mint Julep in 100% humidity with a nice slightly intoxicated college stud rubbing his hard body against me whilst dancing to the cool jazz, I fantasize the latter to often to admit. However, the history of Mardi Gras informs me that the flashing of the boobage was born of drunken "spring breakers", so, if I do ever make it there I shall remain sober and the twins will be safely strapped down.

The news is all about the recovery efforts, some of the stories are to heartbreaking to bare, the politics to infuriating, so, today I afford myself the luxury of letting you all take a few minutes away from the devastation that is the Gulf Coast and view New Orleans through Valerie eyes. I've put together a flickr page of her Algiers visit. Algiers is the location of Kern Studios home of Blaine Kern's Mardi Gras World, the good news is "Most of Algiers escaped the floodwater that swamped 80 percent of New Orleans." The aftermath of Katrina's wake is horrendous, but Valerie was lucky enough to visit it before Katrina and took many pictures some of which I've uploaded to flickr for your enjoyment, the pictures are primarily Mardi Gras floats for the 2006 parade to be named the MONSTER BASH. A foreshadowing Katrina? It depends on your beliefs, but then again, the south weighs heavy with traditions, religion, Voodoo, Hoodoo and folklore; whatever you choose to believe, Mother Nature is known to work without aid from anything other than the right weather conditions to birth a hurricane. If you have any questions or would like to use the photographs please feel free to contact Valerie here.

flickr New Orleans Slideshow

Do You Know What It Means to Lose New Orleans? by Anne Rice
[via ratboys anvil]

It's devastating, infuriating, the motherfucking incompetence of the bureaucracy. Don't defend it, own it, fix it, NOW. I woke up at 6 a.m. to Meet the Press and was destroyed by an interview with Aaron Broussard, President of Jefferson Parish, I cried and fell back to sleep and dreamt of misery and suffering. Fortunately, Wonkette got the tape so you can see it yourself, it's a must see:

MR. BROUSSARD: I'm telling you most importantly I want to thank my public employees...
MR. RUSSERT: All right.

MR. BROUSSARD: ...that have worked 24/7. They're burned out, the doctors, the nurses. And I want to give you one last story and I'll shut up and let you tell me whatever you want to tell me. The guy who runs this building I'm in, emergency management, he's responsible for everything. His mother was trapped in St. Bernard nursing home and every day she called him and said, "Are you coming, son? Is somebody coming?" And he said, "Yeah, Mama, somebody's coming to get you. Somebody's coming to get you on Tuesday. Somebody's coming to get you on Wednesday. Somebody's coming to get you on Thursday. Somebody's coming to get you on Friday." And she drowned Friday night. She drowned Friday night.

Judge Rehnquist passed away last night. He lived a long and full life, he died warm in his own bed, may he rest in peace. I'm sorry to say I have little sadness for his loss, forgive me my lack of sorrow, it is elsewhere at the moment.

I'm off to work, Labor Day weekend has been laborious for me this year, and trust me, I'm thankful as fuck that I'm working, that I have my home, my family and the hairball my cat just horked on my carpet, ew. What is up with all the damn hairballs lately????

Rebellion of the talking heads. I guess if you spent your Sunday being Katrina's bitch and then spent the following days reporting on the dire situations, the destruction of Katrina's path, you'd snap, the reporters have snapped, (QT download via C & L may take a minute) the Mayor of New Orleans has snapped, there is only so much bullshit a person will take before they snap. The threshold is 4 days in this circumstance, but then if you were pissing in a gutter, couldn't wash your hands, clean your privates parts and you've lost your job and your home, not to mention you won't be getting mail for a long while and phone service is none existent, you'd snap, you'd snap reporting about it, you'd snap because clean people with homes are telling you what to do, or worse, dirty people with guns that have snapped are telling you what to do. Human Nature takes over when Mother Nature has tested your will and taxed your psyche and that my fellow Americans, is the nature of the situation *snap*.

[Talking heads via Wonkette]

The Minor Fall, The Major Lift

We're happy for every family that makes it out okay. And if you don't mind, we think that's about all we're going to do on The Crescent City today, except to add that we hope that fat fuck Dennis Hastert suffers some kind of rupture the next time Tom DeLay stuff his fist up his ass to operate him. Okay, have a good long weekend, kids. We're planning to give blood; if you can, do the same.

Found @ Huffington Post

It is reported that black hurricane victims in New Orleans have begun eating corpses to survive. Four days after the storm, thousands of blacks in New Orleans are dying like dogs. No-one has come to help them.

I am a sixty-four year old African-American.

New Orleans marks the end of the America I strove for.

I am hopeless. I am sad. I am angry against my country for doing nothing when it mattered.

[via slog]

Angry Black Bitch (Practicing the fine art of bitchitude)

ABB’s Department of Bitchitude Security...
Vote…register others to vote…volunteer at the polls…monitor your elected officials. Keep a copy of your local paper’s front page from today…blow it up real big and print it on a huge poster. Take that to the polls with you. The next time you see a W'04 sticker on a car, roll down your window and shout SHAME!

Store bottled water in your home. Have enough to last a month. If you do not have space, partner with some folks that live close by and maximize space.

Store canned food. Vegetables and other goods can be purchased in cans. Have enough on hand for a month. Calculate the number of people by a minimum of 2 meals per day.

Stock up on meds., first aid materials and any prescriptions…for a month. Get the shit online if you have to. People are dying from diabetic shock…may Gawd have mercy on us.

Stock up on pet food. These are also members of your family…get canned food.

Come up with an evacuation plan. Discuss it with your family and friends. Have a meet up point planned in advance. Have options and make sure everyone knows them.

Get a bike. Trust a bitch, get a motherfucking bike.

Get a weapon. A bitch hates guns, but my ass will have a baseball bat by sundown.

Get prepared and be proactive, because your government sure as shit won’t do it for you…

Now is the time to help our brothers and sisters in the Gulf. But don't loose sight of the fuck ups that exasperated this drama.

Remember and remind others.

Remember Katrina...

That Bitch is now on my blogroll ----->

Wonkette has the full transcript of Mayor Nagin not taking the bureaucratic bullshit anymore, bitches! ;)

This is ridiculous.

I don't want to see anybody do anymore goddamn press conferences. Put a moratorium on press conferences. Don't do another press conference until the resources are in this city. And then come down to this city and stand with us when there are military trucks and troops that we can't even count.

Don't tell me 40,000 people are coming here. They're not here. It's too doggone late.

Now get off your asses and do something, and let's fix the biggest goddamn crisis in the history of this country.

All this is happening at this very moment, I still don't get why it took so long. Now the president is photo-opping with the victims, "I don't have any clothes, these are all I have." Bush tells the young mother the Salvation Army will help them, well, someone will.

Well I think it's fanfuckingtastic that military relief arrives on the same fucking day as the president visits Ground Zero redux. It's total bullshit actually, they should have been there days ago, but all the water and the fallen tree's, logistically they couldn't do it, bullshit. What was the red tape issues? Fuck logistics, fucking drop-ship the food and toiletries, this is just shameful. We can go to war on a drop of dime, but we couldn't drop-ship a handful of National Guardsmen at the convention center? If I were in charge, there'd be hell to pay, I'd lose my fucking job for being a suckmeister, but the difference is, I wouldn't suck at it, I wouldn't sleep, I'd bust my fucking butt to get things going.

Okay, I feel better now, only for myself though.:S

So, what happens when the President puts his little tootsies on the new Ground Zero? I'm frightened and a smidge concerned that a photo opportunity in the devastation that is the Gulf Coast will end up being a declaration of WAR against the weather. I'm almost certain that a memo will surface showing that the air is harboring weapons of mass destruction as if we didn't know that already.

We have journalist Malcolm Gladwell to thank for the idea that every social phenomenon has a dramatic "tipping point." It doesn't always work that way. And yet Hurricane Katrina is just such a moment. We are a big, strong country-and New Orleans will, somehow, survive-but you do get the sense, as President Bush finally arrived here after a monthlong vacation, that a political hurricane is gathering force, and it's going to hit the capital any day.

Goddamnit, you can't even have an original thought anymore. However, the fact remains that an act of a very menopausal Mother Nature will be politicized and that's just a fact of life, like hurricanes, like thinking you had an original thought, it's a fight you can't win. In the meantime, thousands are homeless and hungry and have no shelter. Focus must remain on the survivors, the rebuilding can only start once the wound starts heal, don't pick at the scab, that's gross. I'm done thinking, I've got to work now, lol. Have a loverly day.