Reindeer Trouble

Well, Hanukkah is just about over and Christmas is around the corner. If you’re anything like me and I fervently hope that you are not, you are just waking up to the fact that you have done NOTHING to prepare for the holidays. The furthest I’ve gotten in the way of festivities, is to buy a new fake Christmas tree that is still in the damn box. I get really cranky driving around at night and see all of the decorations that my cheery neighbors put up in god damn OCTOBER. Those eager beavers and their active decorating do not make me feel cheery or charitable. It makes me hope there will be that ONE DAMN BULB that burns out in their string of lights so the whole damn thing doesn’t light up.

I used to have three of those lighted metal deer that I put in the yard at Christmas time to shut my kids up. They were always bemoaning the fact that our house was the only dark one on the street during the holidays, so I bought the deer thinking that they looked easy to set up. Little did I know that those fucking reindeer would become a horn in my side. After the first year, in which they were set up new out of the box, those deer decided to not cooperate. I would set them up, plug those assholes in to twinkle and shit, only to look out the window at my handwork, and see two of the deer indeed twinkling, only doing so while laying in three pieces in the dirt instead of in one piece standing proudly. It drove me crazy. I zip-tied, I duct taped, I did magic interpretive dances on the lawn, and it did not matter. Those fuckers fell apart anyway.

Now a normal person would have thrown those shitty reindeer in the garbage can at the first sight of them misbehaving. Not me, no siree. I pulled those boxes of disjointed reindeer out every year for about five more years. I was not going to let some crappy Chinese made metal deer beat my crafty American ass. After two years of trying to get those fucking deer to stand the hell up, I got smart. That year I took them out of the box and beat them at their own game by immediately throwing their asses right there in the dirt. That’s right… I saved them the damn trouble of falling apart by not setting them up in the first place. I looked at all those mangled pieces and giggling like a mad woman, plugged em in. It looked like Santa must have crashed into my bushes and killed Donner, Blitzen, and Comet. I wanted to go buy a giant plastic light up Santa and strap a gun in his hands so he looked like he shot them. Maybe even splash some red paint around and string some crime scene tape. Hubs, always the voice of REASON, nixed that fabulous idea.

I’m just not that into decorating to show my holiday spirit. For me, my holiday spirit comes alive when my kids are out of school and my parents fly in for a couple of weeks of card and board games, bad idea Christmas Eve movies (we did Borat one year; I think the girls were in 9th grade. We have followed up with Bad Santa, The Hangover, and other traditional bad choices), and drinking way too much. The holidays to me are about spending time with our family and laughing. I don’t want to spend time decorating or worrying about having to take all that shit down and put it away in January. I’m like those stupid deer during the holidays; I start out standing proudly but end up in a heap with everyone laughing. That’s the way we do Christmas here… crazy, chaotic and on the floor. Happy Holidays!


I have been known to drive around neighborhoods at night and do this with people’s lighted and upright reindeer.


Obligatory cute kid Christmas picture. I think they were five in this picture.

More Stories of Pussification

What the hell is going on with parents today? I really want to know. Everybody has moments of weakness and gives in to their kid occasionally, but I’m talking about peeps that let their kids run the whole fucking SHOW these days. For the love of the sweet baby Jesus in a manger, the foolishness I see when I am out amongst the populace is remarkable in its depth and breadth of stupidity. Peeps think our country is going to hell in a hand basket because of the republicans. Or the democrats. Or because of global warming, lack of religious conviction, welfare queens, racism, gay rights, all that shit. I submit that it is going to hell because of the Pussification of a Nation. And here is my fucking evidence because this is all scientific and shit.

  1. Stop with the digital crap. Buy your kid a god damn book or some paper and crayons. When I look up from my food at an upscale resturant to see three small boys, barely out of diapers, playing on iPhones, I want to PUKE. Your kids can learn to converse and sit still without iPads and iPhones. The reason that same parent was walking around cutting up the kid’s pancakes instead of eating her hot meal, was because the kids are too busy playing a damn video game at dinner to learn how to use a knife and a fork together. Stop that shit. You are fucking up if you are a parent buying your eight year old an iPhone or iPad for Christmas instead of a Harry Potter book. Just don’t do it.
  2. Listen up… do you have a DVD player in your car for the kids? Do us all a favor and cut the damn thing’s wires. You don’t need that shit unless you are going on a fucking cross-country adventure. Talk to your kids, point shit out, what color is that, what shape is that, play car tag bingo, I Spy, and punch buggy or tell them to READ A DAMN BOOK. Teach ‘em something yourself before bellowing about how crappy the schools and teachers are. You might actually find out that your little nine month gift certificate is quite entertaining if you talk to them about stuff.
  3. Do not leave your damn kids for me to discipline. Seriously, you do not want that action. If you leave me a row of 11-12 year old girls that sit behind me at a basketball game to shriek and act stupid, I’m gonna give them a hard way to go. I raised two girls and they never acted that stupid and insipid because I would have slapped the shit out of them. Those girls spent the whole game leaping around, throwing trash and popcorn, and shrieking at funny cat videos on their… wait for it… IPHONES the entire fucking time. I told them to shut up and watch the game. The hilarious guy that talks smack about opposing players and refs with me at every game, told them to shut up and watch the game too, as did every other adult around. It got bad enough that I had hubs take drastic action. He let a couple of silent killers go. It smelled like a baby diaper that had been sitting out in the sun. The girls all blamed each other while we were cracking up. We figured the lack of oxygen would either make them pass out or leave.
  4. Dumbest shit I’ve heard in awhile… a parent whining that her kid doesn’t like turkey so she doesn’t make turkey for Thanksgiving. Are you shittin’ me, woman?! A five year old is menu planning for you? FUCK THAT. I’d laugh in his face and tell him to eat what I fix or go hungry. What happened to telling your kids about all the starving children in {insert country of choice here}? Oh wait, your little pussy is too busy playing with that iPhone instead of reading a fucking book to learn that there is a whole damn world out there that does not revolve around them.
  5. Get this… the pussification continues on into college with these kids. What do you expect with kids raised by technology, given “participation” trophies for sports, were always told they were the smartest and best, and for the most part have never stumbled or had a hardship? That’s right, they are even bigger pussies when they leave the nest, and mommy and daddy continue to support little Johnny no matter what the little shit is up to at college. They blame Johnny’s drinking not on Johnny, but on the lack of “supervision” at college… are you fucking insane?! Your kid is (mostly) 18 years old and a legal adult for most purposes and you want someone at college to give them a curfew and make sure they don’t get black out drunk every weekend? Um yeah… not the school’s job. These same parents whine and moan about their kid not getting the classes they need to graduate on time and start calling the dean and shit. Guess what? It’s a dog eat dog world out there and if your kid is just figuring that, you can blame your damn self and not the “system”. STFU.

If you just got done reading this and thinking that you might have fallen into the pussification hole (pun intended), there is still time to crawl out and grow a pair. Take that iPad that you bought your eight year old for Christmas back to the store. Buy them some nice books and toys so that their imaginations can run. Stop letting your kids run your damn life and making them the center of the universe. If you read this blog post and think it is “mean” and “harsh” then obviously I’m talking to YOU, you pussy, and it’s probably too late.


Is this a real book? I must investigate…


Julia Child ain’t got Nothin’ on Me

Since Mother Nature has decided that it is now winter, it’s time for comfort food. I think everyone needs my 8 Hour chili recipe. You’re welcome.

Shopping List
Bush’s Chili beans
1 lb ground beef
1 can of Rotel
1 can of tomato sauce
1 Onion
1 packet chili seasoning
Six pack of your favorite beer

Suggested Viewing
Magic Mike
Fried Green Tomatoes
Soylent Green
or whatever movie bangs your shutters

Leave for the grocery store and discover that you are driving on fumes. Stop and get gas and a coffee. Go get a massage and get your hair did. Then when you are good and ready, go to the grocery and buy all the crap I listed above. Haul all these groceries into your house. Leave them on the counter while you watch a movie from the list above to get in the “mood” to cook. Drink two beers while the credits roll and chop an onion. Throw the onion and ground meat in the pot. Brown that shit right up. Drain the grease off and add the packet of seasoning. Open another beer and drink half of it, reserving the rest for later. Add tomato sauce, rotel, and beans to the ground meat. Set heat to high. Drink the reserved beer and open another beer and think about adding it to the sauce. Drink beer instead. Choose another movie and sit your ass back down on the couch. Forget about cooking chili and burn it up. Throw that shit in the trash including the pot. Drink two more beers and order a pizza. Dinner is served.


The Seven Dwarfs, Little Bunny Foo Foo, and Happily Ever After

It’s only Wednesday and my brain thinks it’s Friday. I’m sitting here writing this blog and some old dudes dressed like soldiers from the ‘Merican Revolution are on on a local TV show talking about reenacting battles. Old dudes who can’t remember what day of the week it is, are running around with muskets and bayonets. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me. Take a page outta my book and sit your ass down on the couch and watch some Judge Judy instead. Or read this shitty blog… both pass the time and don’t kill anybody.

Like those guys on TV, I am old and I have to take pills for my oldness. I was getting my meds out of their respective bottles last night, and dropping said pills all over the fucking floor. Hubs came in and helpfully informed me that pills don’t work when you throw them on the floor. I told you he was a good doctor. He also cheerfully suggested that I buy one of those plastic pillboxes. He knows I hate those stupid boxes with the stupid compartments labeled with the stupid days of the week. What asshole invented THAT?! I want something cool like a Pez dispenser for my oldness meds. The heads of my Pez Med Dispensers (patent pending, bitches… don’t even think about stealing this awesome idea) would be The Seven Dwarfs for obvious reasons. Sleepy would be Ambien, Grumpy would be my antidepressant, that fat dwarf would be my reflux meds and so on.

Speaking of grumpy shit , me and hubs discovered water on the floor in our mudroom where the water heater and other essential heating and cooling apparatus resides. This room is also filled with junk and looks like something from that Hoarders show on TV. Hubs peered in the door to the mudroom and decided from 20 ft away and across mounds of junk, that the water must be coming from a leak in the huge and very expensive water heater. I told him to go to work and do something he is good at because this was a job for a W O M A N (sing it with me sistahs). I had to clean that whole damn room out to get the to root of this water problem. I hauled all the Christmas decorations, bins of who knows what and shelving out of there, and was left with a room that was a mouse toilet. Those little fuckers came into MY house and shit all over before being caught in glue traps or scampering back into the woods. Where is little Bunny Foo Foo when you need him? Probably taking a nap and now I probably now have the hunta virus and will be dead by Friday because of that damn bunny not doing his job. Asshole. Anyway, the water was NOT the from a leaky water heater, praise Jesus, it was the water softener which is rented and not my problem. I said Hey, Culligan Man, and he is fixing that damn leak for FREE.

The Culligan Man arrived this morning and promptly shut off my water which is bad because I can’t take a shower. I decided to work on fixing my fucking router that is blinking orange at me. The first thing that happens is that my computer asks me a god damned security question. What is up with these stupid ass security questions for every damn account you have? Do they fill a room with assholes to come up with the most obscure and ridiculous questions possible to drive you mad? As a matter of fact, I think they hire these peeps from the loony bin. One of my friends told me that she answers “clamfart” to all of those questions… why the hell didn’t *I* think of that? What celebrity do you look like? Clamfart. First street you lived on? Clamfart. What is your favorite cartoon character? Clamfart. I’m stealing that word and calling my router Clamfart. I expect at least two calls from my neighbors complaining that their kids are gonna see that dirty word. Tell your damn kids that Snow White’s nickname was Clamfart and you will live happily ever after.

Disney Snow White 7 Dwarfs LE Pez Collectors Series New

The Pussification of Halloween

Back in the day, kids were in charge of Halloween. You started driving your parents crazy about your costume at beginning of October and if you were lucky, they might take you to buy a shitty plastic mask and a costume that would burst into flames if they happened to be smoking a cig while they were helping you into said costume. If that trip to the store never materialized, you were destined to dress up as a farmer, a hobo, or a ghost and you were going to fucking LIKE it. I happened to be a third sort of kid and always got busy with the Elmer’s glue, assorted boxes and any other shit I found in the garbage or attic. You also got to wear your costume to school if Halloween was on a school day and didn’t have to worry about “offending” anyone. That was the best part of Halloween; the school day parade of costumes. In 2013, you’d be hard pressed to find a school that lets kids parade around in costumes. If we didn’t have parents picking the stupid costumes out, there wouldn’t be a problem with costumes at school. How the hell could anyone be offended by tiny random princesses, hobos, ghosts or farmers?

Once you had your costume on Halloween night, you hit the mean streets of your town with your pint-sized gang of friends. I can’t ever remember my parents accompanying us once we could walk on our own. After snapping a few kodaks, the ‘rents stayed at home, boozing it up, and handing out their candy, and you went on your merry way getting your candy from your neighbors in your crappy plastic pumpkin.

These days Halloween chaps me off to NO END. Parents buy their kids overpriced Chinese made costumes and chaperone them around the neighborhood by CAR. Are you fucking kidding me?! If I see your douchebag self, driving around my neighborhood dropping off your kid at every house, I’m turning off my damn porch light and I’m gonna throw rocks at your pansy ass kids. No lie… I happened to be at an outdoor local mall a couple of days ago and apparently it was Mall and Treat day. Employees got dressed up like superheros and were handing out candy. It was a beautiful fall day. I counted three cars in my 10-minute excursion driving their kids from store to store. I wanted to slap the shit out of those parents. Wtf is WRONG with you?! Get your fat ass out of that car and walk with your kids if they need to be watched. Letting your three year old jump in and out of your car every twenty feet is so damn lame I just want to yank your reproductive parts off right there in the streets and burn them.

This year, Halloween is cancelled because of the weather. It’s supposed to be windy and stormy. To me that is PERFECT Halloween weather. Put your rain slicker on over your costume and brave the elements…. oh wait, I forgot… it would be dangerous for your parents to drive in this weather. Do we move Christmas or Easter or Yom Kippur if the weather is bad? Hell to the NO. Get out there and trick or treat your ass off. I’m waiting by the door tonight for kids whose parent’s had the good sense to leave them alone to be a kid.




Ok, there is one in every bunch that might be an asshole. I can’t decide if the front
row second from the left kid is a coal miner or in black face.

Hey… Fuck you, Death!!

Dear Grim Reaper:

Over the last month you decided to visit my friend’s family TWICE. Don’t you think that’s a bit much? There are thousands of dirtbag killers in prison on death row and you passed all those murdering assholes up for a young man and his aunt on two separate occasions in one month? Well, FUCK YOU.

Here’s the deal, you heartless bag of bones… you didn’t win here even though you think you did. These lovely people are heartbroken of course, and that was definitely an accomplishment for you to put on your shitty resume. However, what you can’t take away is how amazing this family is and how they will continue to remain amazing no matter how much you try to steal their joy. As a matter of fact, you may have changed their lives so much that they have no choice but to become even MORE amazing.

I am the one hating on you right now, Grim, and guess what my friends are doing right now? They are crying and getting ready to bury their son. But even though they hurt with a pain so deep that I can’t fathom it, they are comforting others during this time. Did you hear that? Yeah, THEY are comforting OTHERS that are grieving with and for them. That’s the kind of people you decided to take a crap on this last month – they have more strength and dignity and graciousness than anybody I can think of. They are fucking saints, you dumb shit. Their son was handicapped from birth but never once did I ever hear them whine, or complain or be resentful of any challenge that came their way. They loved that kid without any reservation just as they do his awesome sister.

Here is something else that I’m certain of… that me, and countless others, are better for knowing this kid and this family. They make everyone around them better. As a matter of fact, they could probably go on death row and make even those sociopaths better people. Making popes into saints is easy, but they aren’t the real saints. The real honest-to-God everyday saints are people like my friends. They toil in the trenches daily, making sure that your work product is totally irrelevant in the long view.

So in closing, Grim, you didn’t win. You have no real power. The real power is in loving those around you and in making the world a better place. You do neither of those things. You take the flesh, but you can’t take the memories and all of the good that came of Zach being in this world. So take a hike, hit the road jack, be gone. My friends aren’t afraid of you. I’m not afraid of you either, Grim. As a matter of fact, you can kiss. my. ass.


Today’s Forecast is Troubled

What the hell is wrong with the Today show? Seriously, I think the producers are all doing drugs. I have watched the Today show for YEARS… it has never been what I would call a hard hitting news show but at least they made a damn EFFORT to do some actual reporting on real news in years past.

Here are some of the guests and news stories they had this week:

  • Christy Brinkley on turning 60. First of all, Christy looks FABULOUS. I’m sure she is genetically blessed but she also has a wicked good plastic surgeon. Anyway, she looks great, but she needs to keep her purty little mouth shut. That poor woman doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. Matt was staring at her and had this look on his face that said, “hey lady, shut up and just show me your tits.”
  • The parade of dummies rolled on with some girl who was the only survivor of a plane crash. All I could think listening to her was it was a real shame that she survived.
  • Some kid named Cody something or other from Australia came on as a musical guest. They were talking about him like he was some sort of rock god. Never heard of him. I was hoping Matt would ask him to say “the dingo ate my baby!” over and over but he let me down in that interview. The kid also talked about his new autobiography that was coming out. What the hell does a 16 year old boy say in an autobiography? Does he tell us about pooping his pants as a baby and his recent onset of wet dreams? Shut up and get the fuck off my tv.
  • The scariest fucking thing I’ve ever scene on tv was up next. They showed a shot of Dick Cheney waiting to be interviewed and I fucking shit. my. pants. Satan’s boss was right there. He looks like he eats babies for breakfast and LIKES it. Ole Dickey was there to talk about his new work of fiction called Heart. Everybody knows he doesn’t have a heart but he was implanted with one at age 71. He’s a fucking Frankenstein. I had to turn the tv off after that before it burst into flames.
  • This morning I turned the show on while I was making coffee and there was Jenna Bush Hagel’s fucking ugly ass hairy FEET on my 55” high definition flat screen tv. Dear Today show producers, I most definitely DO NOT want to see ANYONE’S corns and bunions while I’m having breakfast. What the fuck is WRONG with you people?! Can’t you find more people that should have died in plane crashes to interview?!

In closing, I will say that I am no longer going to watch the MTV version of the Today show. If the sainted Jane Pauley were dead, she’d be rolling over in her grave. I would not be surprised to see a story about how she bought a gun at Walmart and headed over to Studio 3B in 30 Rock and shot all of those idiot producer types. Tom Brokaw would probably be down with that action too. I will be watching the BBC for this news in any case.

Pip pip and Toodles to you all on this brilliant Thursday!


6th Annual Wayuu Taya Foundation Gala

See? Perfect… her mouth is shut and we can see her knockers.

Top Ten Things I Hate about Fall

10. October

9. Pumpkins, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin pie, any god damn thing that smells of or contains pumpkin

8. Little booger eaters banging on my door wanting candy. Get lost, these are my Snickers, punk. I don’t share.

7. Painted jack-o-lanterns. Don’t be such a pussy, and go ahead and carve that fucker UP.

6. Menacing drunk gangs of turkeys, ducks and chickens roaming the streets vowing to jam something really big up John Madden’s ass

5. Watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and wondering if Charlie Brown grew up, returned to town, and hacked all of those smartasses into tiny little pieces.

4. Extreme resentment towards my mother for the fact I have to cook and eat turkey every. damn. year. for my birthday.

3. Black Friday reminding me how America is so RACIST.

2. The Cornucopia of Death

1. Two words: Lumpy Gravy


The Not So Big List of Do Not’s

  • If you are a woman, do not call your significant other Big Daddy. It’s weird. Furthermore, do not go to a concert with Big Daddy and talk during the entire. fucking. concert. in your giant nasal sounding annoying ass voice. Sit down and shut the fuck up, weirdo. Oh, and the Woodstock dancing in aisle complete with head grabbing and hair tossing? Ummm… NO.
  • Do not go to the bathroom at a concert to smoke weed. You just can’t get away with that shit anymore. I mean we should be smarter than toking up in public by now. Just bake that shit up into a brownie for god’s sake. And do not bogart in either case. For tis better to give than receive said some smart dead person.
  • Do not give an opinion other than “you look FABULOUS!” when your wife asks what you think of her attire/clothes/make up/footwear. Apparently, Kanye tells that idiot Kardashian that he made a baby with what to wear. You tell me what to wear and I’m gonna wear the OPPOSITE. Kanye: “honey bubbykins, wear that sparkly low cut evening grown.” Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is: “Why sure Big Daddy! I’m wearing that cool pair of pajama bottoms and the t-shirt with the hole under the arm! I love your fashion sense, Big Daddy!” Fuck off, Kanye. I hope you lose your misogynistic voice.
  • Family feuds on facebook are so damn 10 years ago. PM it or text your nasty little notes to each other. Nobody gives a flying rat’s ass about your family drama. Unless it involves sex changes, elicit pregnancies, or somebody getting arrested, we. don’t. care. Everybody has dysfunction in their family. Keep it there. Thanks.
  • Do not get down on bended knee to your misbehaving little booger eater. Stand the fuck up. It’s pack order, baby. BE the alpha. Stand on a fucking chair if you have to reprimand that little shit. As a matter of fact, just swat his ass and save us from watching your shitty new age parenting crap. A crack on the ass never hurt anybody. As a matter of fact, I think if Big Daddy had someone pop his can when he was little, that Big Daddy nickname crap would have never stuck.


Ummm…. NO.



If this chair is in your house, burn it.