NothingSacred

Times-Call Opinion Piece- Published as "What has the current City Council accomplished?"

Sadly, my local paper, the Times-Call, does not run its opinion pieces on its online version. When they will join the rest of the internet age with the rest of us, I do not know. So, for my friends who aren't local (and thus probably have no idea what I'm talking about here anyway), I'm posting my article here.  

Finding another Kaye Fissinger opinion in the Times-Call attempting to justify the increasingly indefensible antics of some of the current city council members shouldn’t have surprised me.  I should be accustomed by now to her tireless assaults on LIFT, a local non-partisan pro-business group.  Admittedly, I was amused by her vehement insistence that Longmont must not return to the way it was in “the ‘70s, ‘80s or even the past two decades” and must adhere to her (undefined) vision for Longmont’s future.  Kaye Fissinger moved here from California less than five years ago.  Let that resonate with you for a moment. 

I had to ask myself, what is her agenda?  What is her motivation for writing such scurrilous, false and misleading things about LIFT? The answer: It’s a diversion, my friends. 

Nothing more than an attempt to sway your attention away from the real, relevant, and increasingly costly failures of the city council. If she can convince you that, somehow, LIFT is the bad guy maybe you won’t notice what has been going on over at city chambers.  She tries to convince you that the council has made some real accomplishments, but let’s face it, the list is short and has much to do with chickens. The “business-boosting” she writes of is actually a green-energy incentive program used primarily by the city itself for those solar panels over at the pool. It is NOT a job creation, business-growth program. What else has the council done for business? Encouraged us to buy in Longmont.  Gee, thanks.  That’d be easier if you hadn’t stood in the way of the mall redevelopment.

She attempts to mislead you that LIFT has some sort of nefarious, secret plans only to draw attention away from the actual “daylight” problem the current city council has. LIFT is no secret club; it has no members, no set meetings, no secret handshakes. The council, on the other hand, has certainly proven itself as closed. Lots of private executive sessions and unshared emails.   

She decries Mr. Samson for not embracing the new city office of economic development because it competes with the LAEC.  I think we all know that a government office “competes” with the private-sector in much the way an alligator “competes” with a duck. It devours it. She shames LIFT for not approving of the city council diverting money away from LAVA, which YOU voted to fund. 

She piously accuses LIFT of secretive actions and tells you to be alarmed by “resistance to responsibility and accountability”. She may as well be talking of your council, who have ceaselessly pursued their own agendas a the detriment of the city budget.

Vision for the future? Let’s really talk about that. Are we going to allow our council to continue this ill-charted course in fighting a losing court battle? Your council has already decided they will appeal.  Without your input or consent. In a CLOSED meeting.  Talk about a lack of daylight! Do you want to owe more money to this lost cause? The judge found that this council’s actions “exceeded its jurisdiction” and it “abused its discretion”. Are we going to continue to allow city money to be wasted grinding axes against churches and “big business”? (News flash: 4C is not “big” business. We’re not talking GE or WalMart here, folks) When do we say enough is enough? The council is asking our city workers to volunteer for furlough, and yet apparently feels it has no end to resources when it comes to throwing money around for court costs.  Is this what you voted for? Or were you, like me, asleep at the wheel?

Miss Fissinger seems to truly dislike the town she has adopted. She insists that it much change, now, to her liking. I’m still wondering what her vision for the future is, but if it is anything like the recent council “accomplishments”, she’s right. I don’t like it. Unlike Miss Fissinger, I think I can sum up what the council has done recently pretty simply and without subterfuge.

Stalled a mall redevelopment until the developer could no longer financially pursue redevelopment, thereby forgoing that tax revenue. Funneled tax-payer money to a redundant incubator. Took funding you voted for LAVA for its own purposes. Studied some traffic. Ran a large development into the waiting arms of a neighboring town, thereby forgoing that tax revenue. Scuttled a city attorney who wisely advised them not to pursue a losing court battle with that neighboring town. Lost said court battle. Was found liable for those court costs to the tune of over one-hundred thousand dollars (with certainly more to come). Saved some prairie dogs at the airport. Allowed the good citizens of Longmont to get back to their agrarian roots by housing chickens, both legal and illegal. Installed some solar panels at the local pools.

Yep. That sums it up. Thanks for all the visionary leadership toward the future, council. Considering the fine mess this council has gotten us into, “the 70’s, 80’s and even the past two decades” don’t look so bad! So maybe the question you really need to ask yourself is, do you share Kaye’s future vision?  

Hard at Work

Sorry to have been away for so long. Don't think I am without guilt over it. I'm steeping in a big pot of it right now. But I've been hard at work cranking out pretty little lovelies for my upcoming debut jewelry party! I'm hosting it at home on July 17th (A Friday after work sorta open-house thing).  I'll try to keep updates of my progress as I attempt to 1) build up an inventory that isn't dwarfed by my dining table and 2) prepare all the other crap that goes along with it-- displays, prices tags, etc. Maybe I'll even post some of my favorite new pieces as they are assembled by my crack team of Pygmy Taiwanese Mice who I've got working overtime ( I wish. It's just me and my blisters).

On top of that, bear in mind that school is out for summer, which is both blessed for not requiring me to monitor homework, pack lunches and have children at appointed places on time, but simultaneously a chore in that now I have to try to entertain three boys all of rascal age. You see my plight.

Thanks for understanding. I promise to be back with funny shit when A) it is so overwhelmingly hilarious I cannot ignore it and it demands to be shared immediately or B) my schedule frees up enough that I can spend a moment making mildly amusing things uproarious. 

Until then, I highly recommend my new favorite funny-as-hell site to keep you occupied (just be sure to come back now, ya'hear?!).  Check it:

Awkward Family Photos  

A Real Headscratcher

Riddle me this:

Four NY American Muslims are arrested for attempting to blow up two synagogues and charged with "conspiracy to use weapons of mass destruction and conspiracy to acquire and use anti-aircraft missiles". They allegedly said they were "eager to bring death to Jews".

Here's my question: Why the fuck aren't they being charged with a hate-crime statute?

After "they expressed a  hatred of Jews on several occassions", this seems to me to be a pretty obvious instance of a "hate crime".

Now, I generally think "hate crime" legislation is a total bunch of bull, as crime is crime, and we should punish the hell out of any and all who commit them (mercilessly, in my opinion, but I tend to be a bit tough). But since I seem to be on the losing side of this argument at the moment and must resign myself to the Big Brother tyranny of the few who push for hate crime legislation, I will accept that hate crime legislation and punishment is probably here to stay (although I still think it is wrong).

At any rate, my larger question--and I think a perfectly good example of why "hate crimes" are a nebulous, arbitrary assignment of one person's standards, completely unquantifiable and thusly wholly unjust, inequitable and unfair-- is why the hell doesn't this fall under a hate crime? Could it possibly be that these four jack-offs are not being charged with a hate crime because they are black? Or that they are Muslims? That can't be right, can it?

I have a hard time believing that if four Timothy McVeigh douchebags were foiled while plotting this exact same outrage that they wouldn't be charged with a hate crime, so what's the deal here? Seems the perfect instance to re-inforce hate-crime punishments, no?

 I'm hoping that the comcast.net story I picked this up on (see here) just overlooked this charge, or that more charges will be following shortly, but until I see evidence of that, this reeks to me of yet another example of how inequitable certain deviances from common (sense) law have become. At this point, it looks like the progressive left that pushes for stricter hate crime legislation is gouging out Justice's blind eyeballs with pencils. Or no, perhaps it seems more that they are fitting her with bifocals after forcing her to have Lazek. Yeah, I think that's a more appropriate metaphor. Wait, is that a metaphor at all? Well, you get my point.  Someone set me straight here. 

Am I to believe that only white Christians are capable of hate crimes?   

With Friends Like These

I'm a cat person, let's just get that out there. I know it's not as cool as being a dog person, but I don't care. And what's the coolest thing for a cat person? A kitten! And my mom got one-- yay! So I've been going over to visit him everyday and squeeze up his sweet little kitten face and kiss all over his sweet little kitten lips (I'm practically turning into Edna over here, he's so fuckin' cute he makes my earlobes hurt!).  

Anyway, the other day I walk into Mom's kitchen to see the little scamp and see a ziploc bag on her kitchen island that looks to be full of papier mache paste.  It is expanded with air and smells a bit of the loft I lived in in Denver that was above a microbrewery.  "Hey Mom, where's the cat? And what the hell is this?" I ask and point to the science project.

"Oooh! That's Amish Friendship Bread! I need to mush it!" Yeah. You need to do something with it, or it'll be all over your kitchen cabinets in about three seconds, I think as I grab a bottle of water from her fridge.

"Amish Friendship bread, eh?" I ask skeptically. 

"Yes! I got it from my friend, Francie. You just mush it around in the bag and add some stuff and then split the recipe into four bags and pass it along to your friends. It is supposed to be delicious!" She tells me as she pushes the air out of the bag and proceeds to "mush" it around. Pass it along to your friends? This sounds not only unsanitary, but contagious, the dietary equivalent of an STD. Great. I see a bag of mush on my counter in the near future. I take my water into her craft room and play with her new baby kitty yum-yum.

Fast forward four days, I'm in my kitchen making yet another delectable and nutritious meal for my family (ok, a box of mac n' cheese with turkey dogs sliced up and thrown in) when Ace walks in the back door with a tin foil wrapped loaf, a ziploc bag of paste and a piece of paper. "Grandma made us some bread," he tells me and rips into the foil to happily spread crumbs all over the floor. Super. 

I take the bag of goop and the "instruction sheet" and give it a look-see. 

DO NOT REFRIGERATE! It blares across the top. Ohhh-kaaay. Why would I want to refrigerate something that I'm gonna eat in... TEN days? Keeping it on the counter seems perfectly reasonable.  

If air gets in the bag, let it out. It is normal for the batter to rise, bubble, and ferment. Never use any type of metal mixing spoon or bowl.

Ok, that sounds easy enough. I throw the bag on the counter and forget about it. 

Day 1-5: Mush the bag.

Luckily I remember to "mush" the bag these first few days only because if I don't let the air out it I'm afraid it will explode all over my kitchen. "Rise, bubble and ferment" is right. It is starting to behave like a teeny, beige version of the La Brea Tar Pits. I start regarding the bag as an Amish Goo Grenade and are thankful that the Amish are a nonviolent people as this as a weapon, while gross and possibly annoying, could not inflict much real damage. 

Day 6: Add to the bag: 1 cup flour, 1 cup milk, 1 cup sugar. Mush the bag.

Ok, I can do this. I'm not particularly busy on Day 6 and Ace has ravaged the loaf that Mom sent over, so he really likes the stuff. I may as well try, right? I can do this house-wifey stuff if I try. Wait. Did that just say to add MILK?! Am I to still regard the warning across the top of the page not to refrigerate? Really? With milk in it? I'm no stranger to what happens to milk sitting out for God's sake. I'm a mom of three with a mini-van. My ride always has the pungent smell of rotten milk from some lost sippy cup. Oh Lord. Please don't let my house smell like my car.

DAY 7-9: Mush the bag.

I like mush the bag days. Those are easy. But I've started keeping a wary eye on the concoction now that it has rotting milk in it. The bag starts expanding more rapidly.

Day 10: Pour the contents of the bag into a non-metal bowl and add: 1 1/2 c. each flour, milk, sugar. Mix together using a non-metal spoon. Label four ziploc bags with today's date, this is your new Day 1. Measure 1 cup of mixture into each bag, seal them and give them to four friends with a copy of this recipe.

My Day 10 was last night. So I finally read the whole recipe.  

First of all, what is with the whole non-metal bowls and spoons directions, I wonder, as I slowly mix together the ingredients in a glass bowl with a wooden spoon. Wouldn't this be a helluva lost faster if I just used my mixer? Oh, crap. That has metal beaters. Can't do that. What exactly is in this that can't be touched by metal, anyway? What'll happen, I wonder. Corrosion? Explosion? Salmonella? 

I'm no baker, and more than a little miffed at having to mix up this bowl of mushed glue by hand, so I start thinking about it. I think the rule is not anything to do with messing up the ingredients with metal, but just that the Amish aren't allowed to use electric mixers. And they are jealous we can. They're like, Hey, if we have to stir this shit by hand, so do you, infidels! Just be grateful you aren't wearing a rough cotton dress, a bonnet and crazy homemade boots! 

I mean, really. What could be that bad about metal touching it? Well, I can't be sure. Because then I see this: 

Keep a bag for yourself, you'll be baking every 10 days. Only the Amish know how to create a "starter" recipe, so if you give them all away you'll have to wait until someone gives you one back.

Yeah, that's not really incentive for me to keep another bag of mystery explosives on my counter there, pal. And what is this enigmatic "Only the Amish know" crap?! I'm getting really nervous about eating this loaf of bread I'm sticking in the oven, in, get this, a LOAF PAN. Now I don't know about you, but my loaf pans are all metal. You see my quandary. Is metal suddenly ok to put the batter in? Why? Or more likely, I think I've just caught those Amish in the big, gut-busting lie this whole edible chain-letter farce is.

 I'm just certain that all the Amish ladies are back in houses just rolling with laughter about this. They've got all us leaving bags of rotting ingredients on our counters for a week and a half and then they just wet themselves over the idea that they've made us dig through our cabinets for that nasty old wooden spoon. They are having Amish giggle fits over us trying to make this bread with the "secret" Amish ingredient that somehow makes perishable food edible after being un-refrigerated. I keep wondering how many "friends" ago left-over milk is still left in this batch I have. I probably have milk so old in there it would be cheese if we'd just stop all that darn daily "mushing"! 

I think that's it. This is a big, Amish joke. Well, the joke's on them, really. Know why? 'Cause I could go on and on and talk all the smack I want to about them and their crazy non-refrigerated bread and they'll never know!! Why? Because I'm doing it on the internet. So there. Suck it, Amish people.

Oh, and this: 

Cool until bread loosens from the pan and turn out on a serving tray. Keep refrigerated.

Really, you little Amish yucksters? I'm to keep the COOKED bread refrigerated? Why? I just left the nasty-ass dough out for ten days! What could possibly need refrigerating now?! 

I'm telling you people, the Amish are after us. They are ridiculing us and in the same breath totally indoctrinating us by forcing us to use their stone-age tools to make their loaves of Amish bread that are probably filled with magic "REPENT, SInner!" Amish dust that'll make us give up all our technological wonders. And it is working. Why? Cuz that shit be yummy! 

Now I'm just looking around for four "friends" to pass these bags of expanding goop along to. 

Cougar Snacks

Warning: This post will bore men. You've been warned. Come back in a couple days for something for everyone.

Second: Sorry about that music-- it's from that silly "trim style" commercial I embedded in a post down below without knowing how to make the playing of the video optional. My apologies. Maybe when I find some extra time I'll learn how to properly embed video. Yeah, extra time. That'll happen. Oh, and what's your trim style again? I'm rocking mini-strip myself. I shaped all the plants in my entry courtyard identically to really advertise my preferred bush shape. But I digress.

So I'm feeling quite conflicted since I finally got off my arse and set up that Etsy site (if you haven't been yet, shame on you: nothingsacredbynic) and have found, guess what? No one is buying jewelry in this economy. Weird!  I've been stewing about it by relentlessly prowling facebook and other colossal time wasters.  And since I can't seem to find a single buyer online I've convinced myself I need to host my own jewelry party in the hopes that once someone is able to touch the wares they won't be able to live without them. So that has sort of spurred me on to get cracking making inventory for my hopefully-not-too-distant-future party. And the good news is that I'm actually making jewelry again! The bad news? I've been woefully neglecting writing anything or posting anything new to the blog. You see my consternation. 

I look back on all the time I wasted, before I had kids. When I could sit for hours on end and do absolutely nothing. I'm pretty sure one college summer I laid on my apartment floor for thirteen hours straight just staring at the ceiling waiting for something interesting to present itself to me (no a/c, it was hot as scotch bonnets in your Underroos, anything above 30 inches off the floor was like trying to breath in a kiln). Now, of course, I want to be always producing something and find I have not near enough time to do everything I want. I already neglect my kids enough, and really, would it matter if I had that extra thirty minutes a day I use to warm up some slop for dinner? In my heart of hearts I think, Yes. Yes, it would make all the difference in the world if those kids weren't monopolizing that precious half an hour by requiring being fed.  Selfish of them, really.

Anyway, I do feel bad for not being here, so I thought I'd do a fun little vapid post today. Perhaps I was inspired by TOM's new issue of Maxim (yeah, I always thought I'd marry a guy who subscribed to The Economist, but alas, car and hot chick rags litter my bathroom floor). Trumpeting the Hottest 100 Women Ever (bold claim, my testosterone-addled friends) it made me extremely wistful for the days of Tiger Beat. Mixed undoubtedly with my obsessive facebooking that keeps sucking me into "Top 5" lists of favorite cereals and blow job positions, all I can think up now are imaginary "Top 5" lists. 

So I thought it might be fun to throw up my Top 5 Cougar Snacks after spending FAR too long figuring out my Top 5 Favorite Actors. This list is different. By definition, Snacks cannot be based on substance. They are Cheetos and DIng-Dongs. Therefore this list is not at all based on acting ability. In fact, true acting ability may hurt a candidate for this acclaimed title. 

Following is a list of guys way too young for me to ever hold a conversation with, but hot enough to make me sit through horrible rubbish of film in the hopes of a shirtless scene. I warn you, it will NOT include that namby-pamby stink-bomb who played Edward Cullen in Twilight because for the life of me I can't figure out what's so damn attractive about him. His head is the size of Mercury and it looks like he gave up washing his hair for Lent and then didn't bother to start back up again come Easter. It will not include Zac Efron either, because while I can't deny he is pretty, one of the preconditions of the list is that the guys must at least pass for straight, even if they are total pole-smokers. Sorry, a girl has to have standards.

These guys all made the list by giving me a Brad Pitt-in-Thelma & Louise-pause. You know what I'm talking about. Where you saw him and were like, "What the fuck!?! Is he real? Who is that dreamboat?" (You didn't know I used words like dreamboat, didja?! I do. I learned it when I met TOM.) And then you sat extra long through the credits to figure out his name. 

Feel free to argue or add in your favorites (just click on the "comments" button-- I know you have it in you).

#1 Cougar Snack: Cam Gigandet 

Yeah, if you are a Twilight dork you'll know his as the "bad" vampire, but if you are just a plain dork like me, you'll recognize him from the crappy movie Never Back Down where he blessedly has no need for a shirt for most of his scenes and makes one wonder if he actually has more ab muscles than is normally found in human anatomy. Secondly, his name alone sorta makes me think he has an extra special treat in his pants. 

Cougar Snack #2: Taylor Kitsch

While he's currently starring in the crapfest movie Wolverine, he's better showcased (Ie likely to be without shirt) on the tv show Friday Night Lights. 

He's got a real sweet southern drawl, and sorta makes you wish you were back in high school. 

 Sadly, that is where my Top 5 list ends. I know. I could only find TWO hot guys in Hollywood that don't need to rely on anything other than their looks. Sooo sad when there are clearly so many actresses who make a living off only being hot. All the rest of the guys I evaluated only get hot when I factor in their personalities. That is so fucking sad. Maybe it says something about females? Or maybe just me? Maybe I'm a lame cougar. Maybe I'm not quite old enough to be an official cougar yet? 

I pondered throwing JT on the list, but let's face it, he's really not THAT cute in the face. His bringing sexy back has a lot to do with how well he delivers a line on SNL. James Franco could've made the list, but then he went and made me love him in Pineapple Express. Shia LaBeouf and Emile Hirsch were briefly considered for the hunt, but let's face it, they both can act (Transformers and Speed Racer notwithstanding). I'd like to add in Josh Duhamel-- he's certainly got the dumb down, but isn't he older than I am?!? That hardly makes him cougar bait unless the cougar you are talking about is roughly the age of Ann Margaret.

Lookit, I need some help here. Any suggestions? Can anyone tip me off to some completely vapid boy meat?

Stay tuned for the follow-up list Top 5 Oddly Attractive Cougar Meals, starring those oddball guys you just can't figure out why you like. Which might be considerably longer, and certainly funnier than this lame list was. I better just get back to the jewelry making.

Does Anyone Else Smell... Cheese?

Oh, the true thrill of discovery can rarely be as dumbfoundingly dazzling as this little gem from my trusty pal, Edna. (and it has a how-to video!!) 

First off, let's give a shout out to all the preggos and new parents in the house shall we? Not only do you get to bring forth new life to utterly complicate and inconvenience your own, but you get to do it 2009 when the world's marketplace is literally flooded with product after product to "help" you out (luckily you are flat broke, so you buying this shit is really just an exercise in hypotheticals).  Sure, there is the bane of my existence, but I'm always on the lookout for newer and more useless crapola to waste your hard-earned dollars on. Edna never lets me down.

Speaking of "letting down", this little treasure promises to whisk away all of a new mom's worries when that little trick of motherhood occurs. Because we all know what a total problem and heart-wrenching waste "letting down" can be.

Without further ado, I proudly present to you "Milkies".

Slim and portable, no one will even know you are

 wearing it. Best of all — it collects your leaking

 breast milk when you nurse, allowing you to store 

extra breast milk effortlessly. When you have 

breast milk available all the time, 

you will never resort to formula.

 Ok, really? Are they serious with this thing? I can only say "yes, sadly they are" because I've seen their five-minute video explaining how very much every new mom needs this contraption. (PS- Dear Milkies People: Next time try not to use actual pregnant women in your ads-- the facial swelling is just too much. Also, you may want to consider hiring a make-up artist for your "actors").

Just a couple things, because I know what a sensitive topic this can be and have no desire to get my house egged by a ninja group of La Leche League Nazi Bitches (That's the full name of the organization).  

I can only assume a woman who would consider this is one of those women who leak milk nonstop and thus cannot think of anything else other than her dripping nipples. And for a woman like that, who is dissatisfied with the traditional nipple pads, is this really going to work for her day in and day out? Is a lactating mama expected to really wear this fucking plastic milk bag in her bra? And when the inevitable hormonal hot flashes occur, are we to believe that this thing will not slip around and spill a pint of milk down her front? And should I even venture a guess what one of these things smells like after a few hours riding around on swollen teats? Are the ladies supposed to constantly be dumping these "saving"? Because if not, let me tell you, things are gonna get pretty darn ripe, pretty dang fast. 

 Howabout the sound effects? What does a full one of these sound like when you walk around with 'em shoved in your bra? I bet is is not unlike my childhood piano teacher who was four years younger than ancient and when she sat next to you you could hear her insides sloshing back and forth like her entire body was not filled with organs, but a great, angry sea. 

Furthermore, really? Are you encouraging even MORE post-natal psychosis by suggesting women need to be concerned about all that "wasted" breast milk leaking all over? They need to worry about that, too? As if all the rest of shit they have on their mind isn't enough, now you want to make them stress over spilt milk? And trust me, I've been there, that's exactly the kind of thing that could send a hormonal, flabby-bellied wreck of a woman into hysterics. Now she's gonna feel bad if she doesn't catch every last "precious" drop? Gimme a fucking break. We're now inventing things to be stressed out about. As if there isn't enough to worry about right now.

I have to add that I did hear from a certain, nameless source that these may come in handy for those women who pierced their milkers. Yep, you probably didn't know if you aren't pierced (luckily I have friends who love to "share"), but once you shove metal bars through your nipples and then try to breast feed milk literally shoots out like a sprinkler. Front, sides, everywhere. Yeah, that's not something they advertise in piercing shops. Although they probably should. I can see them now, big surgeon general warning posters, akin to the death knell affixed to cigs, hung next to the posters of tattoo-sleeved rock-a-billies and skulls.  Plus, another smaller, screechier version put out by the La Leche League Nazi Bitches.  Well, I'm sure it is only a matter of time before those warnings are legislated by Congress. 

Another little known side-effect of the nipple pierce: If you want to fight, say MMA style, you gotta tape 'em down so they don't get yanked out. Yeee-owtch!  Who knew there was such upkeep and consequences for an impulsive decision like nipple piercing? Not I, but thankfully I've got all these pervy friends... 

Tending the Garden

Forgive me for not being able to leave Schick's new "Trim Style" bushwhacker alone, but over the weekend I got a chance to see the commercial again and this time I actually paid more attention to the visuals as I wasn't so gobsmacked over the "trim style" name.  HO-LEE crap! I want to meet the ad execs who pitched this idea and the razor exec who thought it was a good idea! 

Check it out here, and notice the shape-shifting BUSHES in each scene.

Oh, I see, "whatever my 'style'", eh? Yeah, I see all sorts of "trim styles" portrayed. The Sculpted Natural V, the Landing Strip, even the rarely seen Circle Muff (??). I love that they show the two girlfriends with their similar, but ultimately individual little muff cuts.   

Just a couple observances: A) Where is the skanky girl who hops out of a cab and the conveniently placed topiary molts all its leaves? and B) I notice that all the little bushes start out all scraggly, branches akimbo.  Wouldn't it be even better to watch a peasant-skirted, hippie girl pad her bare feet past one, you can practically smell the patchouli through the tv, and the bush she flits by gets even crazier?  Now I think that's a message that cannot be denied!

So this is how it is going to go down, eh? The twilight of our great American experiment will be memorialized with Rock of Love Bus, Perez Hilton and commercials on beaver-shaping.  Awesome. 

Now for something a little extra special

Thanks to my gal, Anne, who twittered this beauty of a story over.  You're gonna love it! (And now you all know what I'm getting everyone for Xmas-- guys included!)

Cuchini- Taking care of Front-Junk since 2008

Since "Muff Cut" was taken...

Despite getting nearly nothing done today, or perhaps because of it, I feel the need to at least pop a quick post up.  After my extraordinarily productive Tuesday, I suppose I should forgive myself for not getting more done. I did pay my property taxes today before 8 AM, so that is something, and after the anal raping I received on them, I probably should have just gone back to bed.

Ace was finally well enough to get back in school, but sure enough around lunch time the phone rang yet again this week with a call from the office. This time Deuce needed to be picked up. Hardy boy that he is, he didn't even puke in my car even after I drove him all the way out to Costco.  What a sweetheart. 

So to top off the stomach flu that has gripped the casa, I'm pretty sure I gave myself a combined affliction of tennis elbow and carpal tunnel syndrome planting all this infernal vegetation around the patios, and I'm now convinced after picking up yet another giant pile of cat puke, that I may have to get my little kitty in for bulimia counseling. 

Anyway, to try to get myself in a better mood I thought I'd share this special offer from our good pals at Schick, who to my knowledge have NOT taken any government bailout money and for that should be applauded.  The creative team in charge of naming new products, however, may need to get out of the office a little more, as they clearly have no idea that the word "trim" has multiple meanings.

 

I saw this revolutionary new personal grooming tool on a tv commercial, and you can believe the name immediately caught my attention. How happy  was I then to find a print ad of it in Sunday's paper?  Pretty darn happy. Not, strawberry ice cream on a hot day in July happy, but tickled nonetheless.

As you can see, this razor you can use on your legs and then flip it over, and voila! A waterproof bikini trimmer right there to handle your shaggy lady business! The idea is not a bad one, necessarily, but the product name "Trim Style" leaves those of us with pervy mindsets to immediately start questioning why they didn't just call it "Quattro: The Beav" or "Schick's Coochie Cutter".  I mean, "trim style" makes it sound like there is a catalog of "haircuts" you can do with this thing.

I think I might start breaking that out in conversation.  Like, "Yeah, what's your trim style?" or "Do you use product with your trim style?"

Also, I guess I've never figured out why one would need a specific razor for the bikini line as I've never had that much of an issue managing with the regular-size one I'm using on my legs. So, the product is sort of redundant, no? Can anyone clue me in to why a "trim styler" is a better way to prune the hedges? To me it seems sort of like attaching a ball peen hammer to the bottom end of a regular hammer. Could just be me. Whatever, this has definitely got me in a better mood. So there is that.

The Top Twelve Reasons I Will Never Forgive That Twat Holly Collis

Here's the thing, I am awful at holding grudges. I just can't seem to do it.  I've got "forgive and forget" down, but I can't help feeling like the wisest people forgive but don't forget, and that way they don't get fucked over more than once by the same person. Not me! It's like when I decide to forgive someone the erase button in my brain is pushed and I can't remember the offense to save my life. (TOM, I'm sure, uses this particular character trait of mine to his full advantage.)

That said, obviously there are not a lot of people in my life who've made it onto my permanent shit-list. My memory isn't good enough to hold that many grudges. 

I thought it might do me well, however, to revisit why one particular girl is on that list, and refresh in my memory exactly why I cannot ever forgive her, as who wouldn't want to remember this little romp of past indiscretions for all of eternity?

12. You lied to every person you ever met. Especially me. 

11. You slept with my boyfriend Junior Year. You remember? The first guy I ever really loved? You did him. He told me years later. 

10. You cut your hair like Metallica's bassist and made me feel compelled to tell you it was awesome. It wasn't, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings. See? You even taught me to lie.

9. While working for Target you would steal trunk loads full of merchandise, drive to the Target in Northglenn and return it all for cash (this was before Target's stringent no-receipt/no-return policy, which I'm pretty sure you were instrumental in getting enacted). You thought there was nothing wrong with that and when I asked you about it, you accused me of being insensitive to your position.

8. You told our mutual friend, Kitty, that I blamed her for your accident.  Seriously? I told you I blamed myself for being out of town, thinking that if I had been there you would never have been in the situation. I beat myself up about it for years.  But let's face it, maybe you were destined to run that stop sign. You were always looking for a reason to make your life shitty.

7. You slept with my boyfriend Senior Year. (Got his best friend to confess it when I was catching up with people at our ten year class reunion. The one I helped organize. The one where your invitation was "lost in the mail". Yeah, that was really something to hear about. While I was sleeping in the next room at my parent's condo you screwed my boyfriend.  Sweeet.)

6. You tore the transmission out of my car while I was out of town by driving it like a fucktard through the mountains.

5. You slept with my other boyfriend Senior Year.

4. You lied about the whereabouts of the t-shirt said boyfriend gave me, claiming you had no knowledge of it at all. Until I found it stuffed under the bed you were sleeping in. You remember, the bed in my guest room? Yeah, you were living with me at the time. Rent-free. You're welcome.

3. You stole a credit card out of one of the guests' rooms at the hotel my parents owned and charged it up.  Fucking awesome! Then you said it was my fault because it was just too hard to have a friend who had everything while you didn't.  Guilt-trip, too? Oooh, may I have another?

2. In college you used to call me at 1 AM to try to patch up our friendship and when I told you that was too late to be calling, you called me at 6:30 in the morning to chat and said, "Now don't tell me this is too early?!" Yeah. It was.

1. You tried putting the moves on my baby's daddy (TOM) after I had momentarily decided to give you a second chance after college, figuring we'd all grown up and there was no way you'd STILL be up to your old tricks.  Wrong about you, again, I see.

So there it is, in black and white: the reasons I cannot forgive Holly Collis (and you should be grateful, bitch, that I chose to change your name), for I would be foolish to EVER forget the litany of charges against you. 

There, now don't I feel better for getting that off my chest? 

Can any of you beat that for history's shittiest best friend? Spill it.