Like wiping with sandpaper...

there are just some things that irritate.
1) The latest woman to accuse Bill Cosby of rape, has now filed a civil lawsuit. She is 55 years old and is claiming that 40 years ago, at the age of 15, she was raped or sexually assaulted by Dr. Huxtable. Whether he did or didn't do the things that the women crawling out of the woodwork are claiming, I do not know. My gut tells me the majority of these women were trying to sleep their way into Hollywood and it did not happen, but who knows. The problem I have with this latest accuser is that at the age of 15 she claims to be assaulted by Cosby at the PLAYBOY MANSION. What in the fiddly fuck were you doing at the Playboy Mansion at age 15? Who the fuck was not sexually assaulted at the Playboy Mansion in the late 70's? For fuck's sake lady...take your sandpaper and move on, cuz you're irritating me.
2) Cher is blasting the use of gestation crates in swine production. Excuse me? What in the holy hell do you know about livestock, agriculture, or reality in general Cher? How about you stick to making ears bleed, keeping plastic surgeons in their mansions and making transvestites squeal and leave the grown up conversation to the grownups? Here's your sandpaper twatwaffle...
3) Ferguson..STFU and move on. Yesterday, 8 days after the grand jury announcement was made that there would be no indictment, there were still nine stories on my Yahoo newsfeed that were about Ferguson, Michael Brown, et al. Did Brown deserve to die? No, but lets keep in mind that he IS dead because of the choices he made and the actions he took, not soley because of his skin color. Take the sandpaper...please.
4) Elf on the Shelf...I get it..you're a neat little rouse that is used elicit good behavior from the kiddos you stalk...yes I said stalk, because you're creepy as fuck...I have visions of a holiday horror slasher film starring Elf of a Shelf gone bad.

Suck it Trebeck

I have decided I am a terrible, horrible, very bad person. And the bad news is, you are too. How can I tell? Just read any article online or in a magazine and they will tell you (as they've told me) how horrible you are for doing X or for NOT doing Z. So, I'm hoping that by confessing to all of my supposed sins here, I can somehow atone for all of the things I thoroughly fuck up, do wrong, or just plain am abhorred for.
1. I did not breast feed either of my children. They are perfectly healthy, happy, well adjusted, intelligent individuals. My boobs, my kids, my choice. See how that works?
2. I use aluminum foil, and cling wrap, and Ziploc baggies and plastic garbage bags and Ziploc containers that, on occasion get thrown away. I don't give a rats ass what goes into the creation of aluminum foil...I do like my lasagna to get properly cooked and not dried out on the top.
3. I don't think that music has to be cerebral, or make a political statement. I think music should make you happy. It should have a good beat. It should be easy to sing along to and dammit, it should be appropriate for signing at the top of your lungs at last call when you've had too many Fireball shots. Which means, I should not feel ashamed to admit I like Nickleback.
4. I used disposable diapers..I had no desire to get elbow deep in the yellow poo my two spawn would expel on occasion. My dogs really enjoyed the chew treats that, half burnt dirty diapers pulled from the burn barrel, would make, too. (And yes, I called my children spawn.)
5. On that note, I have a burn barrel. I burn garbage.
6. I only half ass recycle. Some of it goes in the recycling bin. See #5 as to what happens to the rest of it. I do cash in my aluminum cans. Most of the time they are cashed in when my month is longer than my paycheck.
7. I don't eat enough fruits and vegetables and the ones that I do eat are, most of the time, not organic and they are not watered by the tears of a unicorn or picked lovingly from their vines by unionized farm workers.
8. I couldn't care less if the food I eat has GMO's in it or not.  Monsanto helps to keep shoes on my children and a roof over my head.
9. I eat red meat. Rare.
10. I eat raw cookie dough. Yes, it was in the news today that a woman died from POSSIBLY eating raw cookie dough, three years ago. She was already immunosuppressed...the source of the E coli poisoning she contracted was never determined. Fuck it, I will continue to eat it.
11. I do not read books that are meant to make me look smarter. I have tried to read The Fountainhead, Anna Karenina, etc. and they just don't entertain me. I read to be entertained. Give me a James Patterson or Patricia Cornwell novel anytime.
12. I drink cheap wine.
13. I feed my children fast food and processed lunch meat. Sometimes they eat cheddar puff corn and drink Pepsi for supper. Sometimes its Kraft mac and cheese with hot dogs.
14. I buy and enjoy Velveeta cheese.
15. I drink water from a plastic bottle. That plastic bottle has sometimes spent a few days in my car.
16. I have re-gifted.
17. I buy generic.
18. I don't give a shit what my carbon foot print looks like. I can only hope for the best for my great-grandchildren, because I guarantee the shitshow we live in today, is not what my great grandmother hoped and dreamt for me.
19. I hate the Kardashians with a burning passion that runs deep.
20. I own a deep-fryer and am not afraid to use it.
21. I have lard in my cupboard and I know how to use it.
22. I have no clue what my shampoo is made of. If it smells good, fits the budget and makes me look less greasy, less brittle, or less frizzy, I buy it.
23. I go to bed with make up on.
24. I can't remember the last time I gave my windows a good washing.
25. I do not investigate what the funky smell in the porch is...thats why God made Scentsy.

I could probably come up with 100 more, but I shouldn't have to. This is my life, its how I choose to live it and I'm happy to be who I am. If you do or don't do any of these things, guess what? I don't give a shit. As long are you're not a dick, I'm confident we can be friends. Unless you like your red meat well done...then we may have to have a serious discussion.

Get off the damned lawn!!!!

I feel like the crabby old man yelling at the kids in the neighborhood, this morning, and here's why!

It is the morning after the midterm elections and I am again saying a prayer for the future of this great country. I can already hear the outrage brewing out of some of you, but stay with me here, for I am not talking about the results of the gubernatorial, congressional, state or local elections. I am talking about a vote in Berkley, Calif. that has really frosted my Cheerios.

Voters in Berkley approved a tax on soda, or pop as we like to call it ‘round these parts. That’s right kids, Berkley has passed the nations first soda tax, and it’s a doozy! Shoppers in the city will now pay a 1-cent per ounce tax on sugar-sweetened beverages and the sweeteners used to flavor drinks. Now, I understand that sugary beverages like pop are filled with empty calories and obesity rates are climbing. HOWEVER, I see some problems with this law. Those problems are: diet soda, milk, 100% juice, baby formula, alcoholic drinks taken for medical reasons (wait…what the fuck are those and how do I get a prescription) and sugary drinks and sweeteners distributed to very small retailers are exempt AND the bill does not dictate where the money is spent.

So, to break it down…regular Pepsi, sweetened with sugar is taxed, Diet Pepsi sweetened with artificial chemicals is not? Juicy Juice, which is only 10% real juice is taxed in Wal-Mart, but not at the very small, corner grocery store down the street. Hmm…that makes perfect sense, right? Wrong…laws like this are why we can’t have nice things.

If you want to start taxing “junk food” like you tax cigarettes because of the increased costs associated with healthcare issues related to obesity, by all means, go for it. HOWEVER, you should be required to spell out that the tax is going towards specific spending, like health, nutrition, physical education and active recreation programs in schools, the Department of Public Health and parks departments. It should also be across the board. The only exemptions should be unflavored milk, 100% juice and unsweetened beverages period. Any beverage with any kind of sweetener, sugar, corn based or chemical, should not have an exemption. This law is like the healthy school lunch initiative…a good idea in theory that was carried out completely wrong.

But the exemptions and the tax itself aren’t the biggest problem I see. The biggest problem I have with laws like this is the fact that governing bodies are telling us what we can and cannot drink via a tax. I can somewhat understand cigarette taxes (second hand smoke), but I have yet to see the individual harmed by second hand Pepsi guzzling.

To the people of Berkley who voted YES to this poorly worded law, you give me douchebumps. You along with the millions of twatwaffles who have to watch a video tutorial to figure out how to make a messy bun are the reason we've not found a cure for cancer.

P.S. Thank God No Shave November is finally here...

I have a headache..

The amount of times I've said What the Fuck? in my head today have given me a headache...when you combine that number with the times I've uttered it aloud, you'll find I haven't really said anything else...I'm like a mental patient pacing back and forth muttering what the fuck while wringing my hands....here we go..
Kaci Hicocx....Seriously? What the Fuck? I get it. You're (book) smart. You're young(ish). You're idealistic. And you most likely do not have Ebola, nor will you be stricken with it or infect anyone else. HOWEVER...there is a slim, slim shady of a chance you may in the next 10 days (or so) get ill and possibly infect someone else and that fact is why you should shut the fuck up and curl up with your boyfriend, some cheetoes and Netflix and enjoy your quarantine. Your rights are being infringed upon? Your freedom is being threatened? You're outraged? Bitch please. Try again. You are being inconvenienced and you're being asked to skip your yoga classes and coffee shop excursions for a couple of weeks in order to keep public panic (warranted or not) at bay. Take your lawsuits and threats of lawsuits and shove them, it's called "For the greater good." I guess I fail to fall into that "Oh my God the sky is falling, we are all going to be FORCED to enter a quarantine" category. I also fail to fall into the OMG EVERYONE IS GOING TO DIE camp either, because I am fully aware that the flu will wreak far more havoc on U.S. citizens than Ebola, and that Ebola isn't easily transmitted. I am, however, a big fan of, "stop acting butthurt and take the precaution for what it is."
Parents...I get that we all do things a little differently and that what works for me, may not work for you however, two things I saw today had me shouting WTF from the roof of my office....
A dad in (I forget where, somewhere here in the U.S.) found out that his 10 year old fifth grade daughter (Hmmmm, I have one of those) created several fake online accounts in which she tried to pass herself off as a 15,16, or 17 year old. She even has a boyfriend that she's met through these accounts and he's convinced that she's "of age." Dad found out about these accounts. He had a shirt made for her that said "I am 10 years old" on the front and "5th Grader" on the back and made her wear it. He then had her hair braided with a fuckton** of pink and white beads and barrettes and bought her a cartoon backpack. He then took her photo and shared it to those accounts she had created. Can I get an AMEN and a round of applause for this dad? Can I get a WHAT THE FUCK for the people who are condemning him for "damaging her self esteem," claiming he's "mentally abusing" her or telling him "he's done irreversible harm to her psyche and well being." I guess I would rather my 10 year old have her feelings hurt and have a "harmed psyche" than to have my 10 year old raped, abducted, sexually assaulted, or knocked up in a few years. Call me crazy.
The second parenting faux pas (in my opinion) was where burning essential oils was suggested for getting siblings to stop fighting. What the literal and actual fuck? Now, I understand essential oils can be used to treat lots of things, but....hear me out here....how about you "parent" instead of expecting lavender oil to just "soothe them and keep them calm, so they won't have the urge to disagree?" How about you take their toys away, or take their cell phones away, or force them to spend the next few days doing EVERYTHING holding hands? If I had to hold by brother's hand while he was taking a shit, you can bet your sweet ass, I would think twice about fighting with him, if I knew that kind of punishment was coming. While the lavender oils may indeed be soothing or calming, perhaps burning them WHILE you're putting a proverbial foot up their asses may be a better plan? (This is why we can't have nice things and we are raising entitled, whiny, sue happy special snowflakes like Kaci Hicocx).
Really, that's all I can focus on now...its time for wine...and football and more wine....peace out.
**Oh I have a new word for the dictionary "fuckton" a unit of measurement that is slightly more than a shitton. See above use for reference.

Look Ma! No F-bombs!

Halloween is coming. How can you tell? Because Christmas decorations are in the stores and holiday sales have already started. (Be sure to tip your waitress, I’m here all night folks.)

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays, but I have to be honest, my generation is screwing it up. That’s right, my friends! My peers and I and our addiction to social networking, political correctness and the mommy wars are ruining the innocent fun that Halloween was when I was a kid.

For example, when I was a child your costume consisted of a mask and a pair of footie pajamas. You had a lion mask? Then you wore a pair of gold footie jammies with a brown yarn scarf around the neck. You had a Care Bears mask? Your footie jammies were pink and you put a rainbow tacked to a circle of white felt on your stomach. Your costume options were endless when footie jammies were available.

Today, parents spend months handcrafting the perfect, unique, preservative free, non-GMO, biodegradable, non-offensive, gender neutral, non-violent costume. Then their child refuses to wear it and they spend a hundred bucks getting the Disney Elsa costume overnighted to them in time for the “Harvest Fest.”

Which is another thing that puts a stick in my craw. Halloween was Halloween and we had Halloween parties at school. Halloween parties are now “Harvest Festivals” because its obvious Halloween turned a large number of my peers into Satanists or is it Wiccans? I cant remember why Halloween was deemed to be evil and harvest fest won the war of words. (Either way…I don’t know any child in the history of forever who “chose the wrong path” because they were subjected to a Halloween party instead of a Harvest Festival.)

Our Halloween parties were also complete with candy and junk food and revelry. We had bowls of candy, cupcakes dripping with frosting; pumpkin shaped cookies and bag after bag of candy corn, because it was a special day. That ONE special day was not going to turn us into obese, cholesterol laden sloths, because it was ONE DAY! Now, all food is to be of the healthy variety. And since its all healthy food you have to trick the kiddos into eating it, hence the mommy wars begin and the oneupsmanship starts. We spend hours figuring out how to create pumpkins out of clementines and celery sticks. We transform our bananas into tiny ghosts and make vampire teeth out of apple slices, marshmallows and sunbutter (no peanut butter is allowed). Remember the days when we felt we were really winning when we tied a Kleenex around a Tootsie Pop and drew eyes on it?

And while we are on the subject of treats…Trick or Treating means you make it rain candy. Stop with the pencils and the stickers and the temporary tattoos. We want peanut butter cups and lots of them. And yes, I said we, as in the parents. We need some sort of reward for the costume creating and that reward starts with Reese’s and ends with peanut butter cup. Better yet, if one of you could hand out bacon and vodka to the moms while you load the kiddos up with chocolate, that would be swell.

(Yeah, this is my column for the paper this week, so it is rather vanilla, but it still gets the point across! Now hand over the fucking vodka....damn it...I tried to keep it clean!)

...with some fava beans and a nice chianti

So, as it happens on occasion, I was once again in charge of chores on the farm. Once again, the chores required a "come and see" versus a list of what to do. It makes life much easier to see where the second pen of goats are versus trying to determine which pen of six is referred to as "the second pen."
While there were no major calamities to speak of and no strenuous work outs to be had (as it was not 10 below zero, there were no rickety ladders that required climbing and no hay bales needed toted across the road) it was still a learning experience.
I (or I should say we as my half hindered hubby came to help) arrived at the farm (aka Little Missouri according to my older brother--who of course, was in Vegas an unable to chore) and hubs hopped on the tractor to retrieve a big bale of hay while I tended to the goats, chickens, rabbits, cats, overweight Corgi and Chester the farm dog.
Upon entering the first pen of goats, I managed to see a flash of black and white out of the corner of my eye and hurried to shut the door before Chester could follow me in, as there is a rouge rabbit who escaped from his pen and has decided to "find his inner show goat" and live in the barn. There was really not much work to do here, as they are on a self feeder. So I gave Milkshakes the goat some love and refilled a water bucket.
I approached the second two pens of goats, albeit with reservation as the Cock of the Walk came strutting around the corner with a murderous gleam in his eye...damn you Ashley and your "free range" rooster. Thankfully, Chester was still in tow, and while the two peacefully coexist, they still stay out of each other's way, and the rooster headed the other way.
This is where feeding the goats gets interesting. If you've never been around goats, let me tell you a few things...1) When it comes to feeding time, goats will act like the giant Koi at the zoo when you happen to hock a loogie into the water. To the uninitiated, it can be frightening as it appears as though they will jump the fence and come at you in an effort to get a mouthful of grain. 2) Billy Goats make very strange noises...seriously its like meshing an alley cat getting raped by the neighborhood tom cat with an overly vocal pornstar and a little Janet Leigh from "Psycho" thrown in for good measure. Again, to the uninitiated, its terrifying.
After the goats were fed it was off to the chicken coop..a mere two steps from the goat pen. The rooster was still contemplating whether or not to give me a peck or two, but for the most part he just casually observed my movements, as if he were going to file his report with Andy and Ashley when they returned. All I had to do with the chickens was check the feed and water situation and gather the eggs. I got two explanations as to how I was to do this, as there are two old nesting hens who no longer lay, but nest on as many eggs as they can and they do not appreciate you taking their "babies." The first explanation as to how to accomplish the egg gathering was to, "just talk to them in a soothing voice. Let them know its okay and that you're just going to reach under here and grab the eggs and things will be just fine. Just keep talking to them. The more you communicate with them, the easier it will be." The second explanation I got was, "I throw my hat over their heads then just reach under and grab the eggs."
I'll let you guess whose explanation was whose and which route I chose. (Psstt...I wear a ball cap while choring for a reason.)
Now here's where the learning happened. I was unaware that there would be so many eggs to gather. I was relieved that I had a hat I could put them in as there was no graceful way to carry 20 eggs. By the time I was finished gathering and was starting to exit, four or five hens had found their way to my vicinity and were waiting by the door..crickets reside under the door and they were waiting for me to open it back up and pounce on a snack. As I opened the door, trying to keep the chickens in with one leg and the dog out with the other, my 20 eggs became 19. At this point I learned that chickens are cannibalistic little bastards. Those hens swarmed on that broken egg like the aforementioned Koi fish and lapped up every last drop of their coop mate's embryo. It was almost more frightening than the Billy Goat mating call.
Trying not to shudder, I left the chicken coop in search of an egg carton. While I didn't find one, I did find a box and more importantly, a beer. I checked the last two pens of goats and made sure rabbit number two was comfortable in his two story condo, before helping the hubby feed the calves and we called it a night.
Cannibalistic chickens, just another one of my many learning experiences we have in Blondie's Barnyard.

My super awesome

annual redneck happy day was yesterday...it was my day at the Iowa State Fair! Now, I should preface this by stating that usually, I get to spend more than just ONE day there, but the way the stars aligned and because of the hubs accident, I could only get ONE day.
The Iowa State Fair is like my holy land. My parents had their first date there. In fact, they celebrated that moment at this year's fair, riding Ye Olde Mill together, 50 years to the day from when they first rode it together. My parents camp there the entire 10 days, my kids exhibit there and my uncle serves on the State Fair Board, heck my five year old nephew even gets in on the action, showing in the open class goat show. It is OUR fair.
It irritates the crap out of me when people piss and moan about the cost of it. Yes, it does cost money, but no more than a day spent at the zoo, or the water park, or at the I-Cubs or any other venue. AND there are ways to spend less money and still enjoy your day.
We got on the grounds around 9:30. Parking would prove to be one of the more expensive things, as the yard we chose to park in charged $10. However, it was a big yard that was fenced in and only a block from the gate. We used tickets that were ordered, in advance, so we paid $16 to get in, instead of $22. We made our first purchase within seconds, buying a lemon shake up from the stand outside of the Swine building for $3. Its the best lemon shake up on the fairgrounds. And here's novel idea..we SHARED it. We did not each need our own lemonade.
We checked in at the goat show and watched the nephew show Miss Sweatpea and found out that Jaci would not show for several more hours, so off we went to explore the grounds. We found another lemonade stand with a refillable cup, so we spent $4 there, but refills were only $2, hence another way to save!
We saw the big boar, big bull and big ram, walked through the Avenue of Breeds and then decided it was time for lunch. The three of us SHARED a half rack of ribs, an order of the brisket bacon mac and cheese and a funnel cake. $22 and we were stuffed. I think a lot of the people who bitch about the food costs order that much PER PERSON. Fair food is meant to be sampled, savored and shared. We made a trip through the Varied Industries Building, the DNR building and looked through the various displays under the Grandstand before heading back to the livestock barns. We took the free tram ride, which stopped right by the Budweiser Clydesdales so we got a good look at them before hopping back on the tram and heading back to the goat show.
By this time it was time for a snack..a milkshake (from the Dairy Barn of course) and a slushy would tide the family over until after the goat show ended.
Miss Jaci got third place with Possum and was told she was an excellent showman, which made us proud. Claypot stood second with Hottie, and was in for the Championship Drive, but it was not Hottie's day. A good experience for both none the less.
Once the show clothes were exchanged for shorts and a tee, we went off to do more exploring. A quick trip through the Agriculture building for a jar of honey and a peek at the Butter Cow was in order. We found more cheap and good snacks there, as the Iowa Egg Council hands out FREE, yes I said FREE eggs on a stick..so the three of us got a $2 lemonade refill and each had a free egg! We then found the Salad Bowl, where we ordered PB&J on a stick for $2 and the Caprese Salad on a stick for $3. The PB&J was four mini sandwiches on a skewer with fresh strawberries and grapes in-between the sandwiches and the Caprese was cherry tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and basil layered on a skewer. It was a refreshing and healthy snack for $5 that again, we all shared.
We managed to walk through every building and every display, save the Cultural Center and Pioneer Hall. We bought two wedding gifts while on the grounds, and while we were walking towards the exit gate, happened to see one of the BBQ vendors selling bulk sliced, smoked roast beef. We got 3 pounds for $12. Hello lunch for the next few days...if that isn't a bargain banner day at the State Fair, I don't know what is!
I'm already counting down the days til next year's event and planning how many days I can go and how many foods on a stick we can share!

WTF do we do with these and how do I get revenge?

One of the realities of living on a farm is that you must be prepared to have the occasional unexpected houseguest. Now, I’m not talking about your mother in law spending a week with you in the guest bedroom or your niece who’s never seen a cow before coming to spend a week on the farm. The houseguests I’m referring to don’t need fancy hand towels or fresh sheets in the guest bedroom. The guests I’m talking about don’t clean up after themselves, show up unannounced and are usually the four-legged variety.

Having lived on a farm all of my life, having a guest in the basement, porch or mudroom is something I am accustomed to and am somewhat prepared for. Or I should say WAS prepared for, as the newest guest(s) who arrived at the farm are out of my league.

Having a baby calf who needs dried off and warmed up with a heat lamp, blanket and a hairdryer on the back porch is no problem. Trying to sleep while the new coon dog puppy gets used to his new home and finds he already knows how to bay at 2 a.m. isn’t an issue. Caring for a small herd of bottle baby goats who require diaper changes and bottles every two hours in their back porch playpen, is old hat. Those experiences, however, did nothing to prepare me for the birthday gift bestowed on my 10 year old this past weekend, as I can now add baby chicks to the list of those who have resided on my back porch.

My knowledge of chicken farming begins and ends with helping my grandmother gather eggs as a child, so when friends of ours arrived bearing a box that resembled a happy meal, experts had to be brought in.

Proper feed and water instructions were discussed, along with the temperature needed to keep the babies thriving and tips how to socialize with the chicks. 

Once the “What in the fuck do we do with these things?” wore off, we found an old mineral tub and a heat lamp and our chicken farming experience began.

Starter feed was included with the gift of two baby chicks (along with pink chore gloves and beef jerky) so we had feed. We put straw in a corner of the tub and found an acceptable watering dish. Knowing that the aforementioned coon dog had not been consulted prior to the purchase of the chicks and also considering that wild critters have been known to pass through while the dog isn’t paying attention, I had no choice but to invite them into the back porch.

Knowing that they cannot reside there forever, permanent housing was discussed. Feeling that the best option was to let one of our chicken experts (our friend Sam) “board” the chicks while Jaci had visitation rights seemed like the best plan. Sam has chicks, as well, and a larger flock than the two we have is preferred. However, Miss Jaci was not keen on having a shared custody arrangement…so on the back porch they stay, along with three new siblings….who, like all houseguests, will soon wear out their welcome. 

As soon as I figure out a permanent residence for the little bastards...paying Fred back for his kinds will be my next task...I'm thinking a dozen guineas in his yard should do it...(If you aren't sure what I am talking about, search for a video of them online and turn your speakers up.)

Sorry...again...

I find the need to apologize to you Barnyard Critters, as I am beginning to realize, I am a really bad blogger...I'm great at sharing random thoughts, but putting together a meaningful, well worded story/article/essay on a singular topic, is a bitch. It's easy when I have something I am passionate about or when I have a good idea, but when I'm pressed to come up with something...that's another story. SO, I will bore you, once again, with some random thoughts because I have opinions and comments about certain things, I just can't add enough bullshit adjectives to make them long enough for a blog post.
Some days, I really hate the media. (Yes Captain Obvious, I realize, I AM the media--thanks for noticing.) The way certain media outlets purposely mislead their readers with halfassed headlines really pisses me off.
For example--"Governor not ready to sign cannabis oil bill." While the statement in and of itself is true, the headline fails to mention that A. He doesn't even HAVE the bill yet and B. He has 30 days to sign it. It's obvious the headline was made as it was so the social media fucktards can turn the comment section into a complete and utter shit show. Do I think he should sign it? Yes. Do I think he will? Yes. He's talking to other governor's who have passed similar legislation to see how its going. He has also said he wants to read the bill. Hmmm...novel idea, read a bill before it's signed into law...
People who comment on social media posts with nuggets of wisdom like, 'Could care less' or 'Who cares?' tickle the shit out of me. First off douchenozzle, the correct term is 'COULDN'T care less' as in you could not care less about said topic. SECOND, if you took the time to read the post or article and then made the effort to type something into the comment section, it shows that on some level you DO care..if you truly didn't care, you would scroll on.
On a similar note..not EVERY single thing a news outlet posts needs to be hard hitting, investigative, serious news...please stop bringing up Benghazi and the Nigerian girls kidnapping on the TODAY show page...if you want to read ONLY serious news, follow CNN not the freaking TODAY show. Pull the stick out of your ass, take off your tinfoil helmet and stop listening to the voices in your head...lighthearted fluff is needed to get through the day with the sad state this world is in.
If you aren't watching Orphan Black on BBC America, you are truly missing out on a terrific show...one word of warning, don't just jump into it today, you'd be seriously lost...catch up online THEN start watching..I'm not a fan of sci-fi at all, but this show is amazeballs.
I find it slightly horrifying that I can go from watching a cerebral science fiction show like O.B. straight into a Marriage Boot Camp marathon, followed up by Will and Grace reruns and the latest episode of Pioneer Woman...I think my television habit has multiple personalities.
A high of 90 tomorrow? Terrific...we went from winter directly into swamp ass season...
And finally, I freaking love this lady...

It's never too late

We've all heard the term you can't teach an old dog new tricks...not so! Cuz this old bitch has learned a few things lately! I feel it is my civic duty to share my new found knowledge with you.
Recently I've learned the following things:
When doing strenuous activity, you may feel a tingling in your appendages..don't be overly concerned, UNTIL your chin starts tingling. If your chin is tingling, hope for something soft because bitch, you're bout to pass out....
If someone wants you to try tabata...do NOT, I repeat do NOT confuse it with ciabatta. Ciabatta is a delightfully crusty bread that makes a fabulous base for a sandwich made with rare roast beef and horseradish sauce. IF asked to try tabata, run. I mean stride your mother fucking legs out like a serial killer dressed in a clown suit is chasing you because THAT scenario is less threatening and less evil than tabata. I swear Kim Jong Il created tabata and uses it only when the pack of wild dogs fail to kill his enemies.
APPARENTLY, there is a wrong way to perform an execution. I was unaware of this. Raping, kidnapping, murdering, thieving son of a bitch is dead, albeit in a lengthier more painful way than anticipated...call me crazy but I don't think that I would call that "botched."
While I'm sure there are a few other nuggets of knowledge I have gleaned lately..I can't for the life of me think of them because my arms hurt too bad to continue typing and my chin is beginning to tingle. Dave should feel lucky that we could no longer pick up our dumbbells, otherwise we may have pelted him with them...Til next time

BB

Profuse apologies

I'm feeling quite plucky today and I think I know why...

Actually, it probably has less to do with hunger and more to do with the fact that my ass was up at 4:30 this morning to send DH off in the semi-truck and then be at Boot Camp by 5:30. (Although there is a bowl of monster cookie dip that I have been thinking of just eating by the spoonful in our office refrigerator... it has been calling to me, so far I have been able to tell it to shut the fuck up...however, if you find me sitting on the floor licking the bowl clean, don't be surprised.)

So anywho..as I've previously mentioned I have been doing some exercising...this week in addition to my three days a week with my girls and our trainer, I have added boot camp...it's at 5 fucking thirty in the morning, which is a ridiculous time of the day...I am not a morning person...at all...whatsoever...

(That's for you Sam...more proof that I have an e-card for everything.)

My puckishness, or bitchiness if you'd rather, comes from the interruption of my relationship with my mattress and my pillow, and if I offended you...tough shit...I mean, I'm sorry. 

I've already addressed Cameron Diaz..now for the remainder of the people/things/stories that have gotten my asshairs all knotty today.

To the lady commenting on the story about a girl with an eating disorder that made her unable/unwilling to drink water.. You not being able to stomach Velveeta, not liking chicken, other than chicken nuggets, your refusal to eat cheese other than mozzarella, and the fact that you love french fries, but can do without potato chips does not mean you have an eating disorder..it means you're a picky fucking eater.

To PETA...you people really are fucking delusional aren't you? You are asking permission to erect (God I chuckle like a 12 year old boy when I use that word) a 10 foot tall memorial to the 500 turkeys who perished in a semi-truck accident near Sioux City? Are you fucking serious? Wow....this after your plan to turn Jeffery Dahmer's former home into a vegan restaurant, solidifies the fact that you are indeed an organization filled with fucktards.

Courtney Cox...you dried up fun hater....a Friends reunion would have been awesome. Would it have killed you to make millions of fans happy?

(Sigh....) I'm sure I'll be even more irritable later in the day...I may be back because