Fear Factor Debates
Mood:  cheeky
Now Playing: The Used
I cannot tell you how happy I am that the Presidential debates are FINALLY over! It was like watching the same bad movie over and over and over again.

In every one of them it was all about blaming, dodging, finger pointing, back peddling, and some of what appeared to be outright lies and then afterwards, both sides claiming victory.

I don't know about you, but I think the debates should be more like reality television.

Wouldn't the debates be more fun if the candidates were required to do some stunts or physical challenges? I would think that adding an element like that would increase the viewing audience and turn these snore fests into something relatively hip and interesting.

Can't you see them strapped into safety gear and logrolling in a pool of leaches or jumping from planes into vats of goat urine or Greco-Roman wrestling Orangutans while wearing women's underwear or perhaps a hot coal walk...on their hands while singing "I'm a little tea pot" or perhaps they could just scootch across the coals on their hineys?

I don't know about you, but it would sure affect my vote. I'd definitely vote for the guy who could suck down the most pickled rat scrotum in 3 minutes.

POST SCRIPT 10/26/04
So I was watching the Dennis Miller Show last night and comedian Charlie Viracola was on (Charlie's World,etc.) discussing the Presidential election now eight days out. I was beyond suprised when he said the debates would have been better if they were "Fear Factor Debates"....hmmmmmmmm...either my readership is going places I never wanted it to and Charlie 'borrowed' the Fear Factor Debate idea or perhaps it was just a common idea among the quirky creative types...velly, velly strange I tell you...

Jesus Loves Me This I Know... Follow Up to 'Jesus Says Refinance Now'
Mood:  mischievious
Now Playing: Glenn Miller
While writing the entry "Jesus Says Refinance Now!" from September 19th it occured to me that I am definitely going to Hell!

Why you ask?

Because as I was thinking about the song "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so..." it occurred to me that Oscar Myer ripped off that song. (Those bastards!)

Think about it...the tune is pretty much the same.

"Jesus loves me, this I know. For the bible tells me so...and Oscar Myer has a way with b-o-l-o-g-n-a."

Yup. I say it screams copyright infringement.

You know that Oscar Myer could come up with an excuse. Perhaps the tired Vanilla Ice one. You know-that he didn't sample Queen's 'Under Pressure' in his only hit song in the 80s, well ever, "Ice, Ice Baby".

I can still hear Vanilla in a tv interview saying "No, I didn't sample it. Their song goes 'dunt, dunt, dunt, dunna, dunt, dunt'. Mine goes 'dunt, dunt, dunt, dinna, dunt, dunt.' See it's totally different. Uh-yeah. Whatever lets you sleep at night one hit wonder boy.

Now we know that yet another company is probably using the religious marketing tactic, subliminally, to sell weiners of all things!

Oh the horror of it all! Where does it end? Next thing you know some outdoor gear company is going to rip off "Go Tell It On The Mountain" for their next marketing campaign to promote hiking!

What Would Jesus Do... If He Were in Debt?
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: Chick Corea
So I thought that nothing would suprise me after the email from the Christian Mortgage Company (see an older entry) telling me that "Jesus loves you...refinance now!"

I was wrong.

Today I received an email from the Christian Debt Network with the subject line of "Handle Your Debt the Christian Way". Uh, what? Is there a Christian and non-Christian way to handle debt? I was apparently blissfully unaware of that.

Does that mean that they won't give you debt counseling if you are Buddist or Jewish?

I wonder how far this marketing trend is going to go? I can see the emails now:

Atheist Debt Counseling...Because There is No God to Help You With Your Debt

Muslim Debt Counseling...Let Allah Show You the Path to Financial Stability

I would add one about Kabbalah, but it has unfortunately become a pop fashion religion and apparently most of its followers are Hollywood 'glitterati' and in no need of debt counseling...

Rubber Duckie, You're the One-You Make Rance Time Such Less Fun...
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Tori Amos
You, my friends and family, who this blog is for know me and love me. However, I am under attack by random forces who feel that it is ok to make seriously off base and rather vicious personal judgments of me so I feel the need to respond via this, my forum.

Apparently the First Amendment is no longer applicable when it comes to the formerly amazing blog site belonging to Rance. (If you are unaware of Rance, I don't have the inclination to inform you--it sucks now so just realize that you are missing nothing). What was once an amazingly original site has been sucked down by nauseating and sophomoric sycophants all doing the elephant walk with each other.

The site has gone to the shitter under the leadership of `Rubber Duckie' - who I always tend to think of as a man because of the apparent reference to the nickname in the trucker song "Convoy"- but who is, in fact, a self-proclaimed single mother who evidently lacks any sort of life in the real world. Rance's blog has gone from acerbic and witty commentaries on Hollywood life to a 12-step support system for wanna be writers looking for validation.

God forbid, you voice an opinion about the sorry direction the site has taken or a handful of losers will immediately make harsh and completely unfounded remarks about your character--not about your comments--about you personally. Way to go kids! It doesn't get more childish that that! Welcome back to grade school! Another black eye for the mob mentality!

There is one poster, the he/she/it "Bubba", who went off on me like I was the devil incarnate. According to this "Pat" poster (I thought it was a guy but from its posts, it appears to be female but he/she/it made references to forgiving my comments if I was "hot" so it appears that I am developing a cult lesbian following-my sister will be SO proud!), you all have to stop using the nicknames you have given me (yep, even those dating back to college) because he/she/it Bubba has decided that I made them all up. Uh, yeah. Apparently he/she/it Bubba needs company on the making up your own nicknames LOSER planet.

He/she/it Bubba also stated basically that I am not a nice person. I know--go ahead and crack up! I did when I read that. Yeah, I'm just horrid! That's why I'm known as the South Mountain Rescue Society and have placed more stray animals in homes than I can count and I have kept all of the ones (including my retarded puppy Porkchop) that I couldn't place. I have friends and family who adore me but some random stranger, who apparently has WAY too much time on its hands, has decided that I am evil based upon a comment I posted on a blog. I'm sorry, that's just scary to me that someone is so full of hate and bilious comments for a total stranger. As Aerosmith says "There's something wrong with the world today..." For cripe's sake he/she/it Bubba--GET A LIFE!!!

He/she/it Bubba also claims to have read my blog and concluded that I "hate everything". Hmmmmm...with that comment you make it obvious that you couldn't have read it. The only true `hate' entry is about Michael Moore's trip to the U of A and I just needed to vent about that one. Ok, I also hate grasshoppers and the faux word supposibly. The reason I started this blog was at the urging of friends who wanted to read my `rants' and know that I won't publish any of my 'sniglets' or 'rants' because I don't consider them serious or worth attention. The majority of them simply raise questions or point out amusing things. He/she/it Bubba apparently thinks I hate food on a stick, auto scent machines, midgets, nuns, drinking in garages, Theresa Heinz-Kerry, necrophilia, beef jerky and the Passion of the Christ, Hummer Cologne, horses (yeah right--Hey Mr. Big, you hear that out in your stall?!) etc., etc. Interesting that my friends and family (who are really the only people I ever expected to read the entries) find them hilarious and kind of a combination of Erma Bombeck and Dennis Miller (or so I am told), but he/she/it Bubba believes when I playfully rant, I am being hateful. According to he/she/it Bubba I have nothing to bitch about because I live in Phoenix and we have warm weather and it's not like I am trying to get my kids to school. (WHAT?! Put the crack pipe down--move away from the rock!) Once again...uh, yeah. Phoenix is perfect--no reason to bitch here...Where does this freak live anyway?

I gave up trying to explain on Rance's site, because much like the situation in Iraq, the many are being quelled and repressed by the few and extreme. Even the moderator, Rubber Duckie, is out of line. If you were running a site and everyone starting really being hateful and flaming one person for her respectfully worded opinion, wouldn't you step in and stop the flaming activity--which is your job as monitor? Not in RD's world. She apparently takes every comment personally and doesn't agree with Rodney King about "Can't we all just get along?" Way to be a moderator chicky! You, of all people, should not be commenting and further exacerbating the situation. Hope you don't work as a police hostage negotiator somewhere!

In closing, if you are one of the freaky mean green beans from Rance's site--go the HELL away! After the last bizarre-o comments by RD and he/she/it Bubba, I will never visit the site again. The majority of the audience has, much like Elvis, left the building and you and your cronies can sit around self-flagellating and patting each other on the back until your arms break in your low rent script writing class.

If you don't like my sites, my writing style, my comments or me--just bugger off! You weren't invited anyway. Everything is not about you--just get over it and leave me alone!

Michael Moore at the U of A--are you f@cking kidding me?!
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: The Sex Pistols
So I get an email last week from a friend of mine that the University of Arizona is going to pay Michael Moore almost $30k to speak as part of their get out the vote effort. WHAT?!?! Are you kidding me?!I immediately wrote U of A President Peter Likin an email expressing my concern--alright, my outrage at this suggestion. Following are my original email, President Linkin's response and my response. I had to vent about this.

"Dear President Likins-
I cannot begin to tell you how deeply disturbed I am that ASUA, and by extension the University of Arizona, is paying to bring Michael Moore in to speak to the students.

You have stated that Mr. Moore has been invited to participate in the ASUA's "...effort to heighten student awareness about the political process during this election year. ASUA's efforts include a massive voter registration drive, educating students about issues and candidates, and getting students to the polls on Election Day."

I fail to see where Michael Moore would have any positive contribution to this effort. How does a man who publicly derides the United States, its leadership, its legislative process and its people bring anything to your efforts? This is the man who, during an interview with the British paper The Mirror, said this about Americans: "They are possibly the dumbest people on the planet . . . in thrall to conniving, thieving smug [pieces of the human anatomy]," Moore intoned. "We Americans suffer from an enforced ignorance. We don't know about anything that's happening outside our country. Our stupidity is embarrassing."

This is the man you are encouraging to speak to our young people about the political process? A man who presents himself as a documentary filmmaker, when in fact he is nothing but a self-serving, self-promoter who is making a fortune by misleading the American public through creative editing of the facts.

I do not care what party you are affiliated with: Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Green, etc. Michael Moore has nothing to do with civic awareness, political mindedness or political education.

Michael Moore is a draw--not a valid input. If you were really going to bring someone in for this effort it would be a non-partisan speaker who would talk about the American lives that have been lost to protect our ability to vote, the fight for women's suffrage, the importance of educating yourself on the issues and the candidates as well as the significance of speaking your mind by voting. It would not be someone who has used the issues and the candidates to promote himself, line his own wallet and who is clearly not interested in presenting any unbiased information to the students of the University of Arizona.

I consider Michael Moore a traitor to our men and women in uniform who are willingly risking their lives on a daily basis to protect our continued freedom and our ability to vote. He is un-American and does not deserve to have the University of Arizona help him to advance his personal agenda.
Sincerely,
My Full Name
University of Arizona, Class of 199_"

President Likin's response dumbfounded me to say the least. Keep in mind while reading it, that this is from the President (as in highest paid staff member) of a major university...

Peter Likins wrote:
Megan ...

I see that part of the problem here is that I have never taken Michael Moore sufficiently seriously to read anything he has written, hear him speak or see his films. I have no interest in his visit to campus, but then again I ignore extreme views on all sides of these questions so I can concentrate on working with real people on real issues.

For me this flap is not about Michael Moore at all. It's about whether or not I should allow students whom I know and trust to do their best to provide the campus with a balanced set of five speakers. My decision is to support my students, even if they have made a judgement that I would have made differently. These students are feeling very badly right now, knowing that I am taking the heat for their decisions. I have told them that it's my responsibility to protect their freedom to learn from experience, and that's what I'm doing.

Cheers ...

Pete

Is this man huffing suntan lotion? "Cheers Pete"? How inappropriate a closing is that? Not only did he address me as if I were an insipid youngster, he really didn't address my concerns. Therefore, a reply/rebuttal was needed:

"Dear Mr. Linkin-
I find your response to my email disturbing to say the least. The fact that a speaker is being paid to come to the University of Arizona and you, as the President of the institution, have "no interest in his visit to campus" is, pardon my frankness, asinine.

You say that you feel your students did "their best to provide the campus with a balanced set of five speakers." Balanced? In what universe are their choices balanced? There is no balance whatsoever with the five speakers chosen. The only ones who are balanced and will present relatively un-biased information are Governor Napolitano and Representative Jim Kolbe, who when last I checked was TBD as a speaker, which means he could very well not be able to attend depending upon his commitments in Washington. That leaves you with one relatively non-partisan speaker, Governor Napolitano, and three speakers who are all self-motivated by their own personal agendas and stand to gain or profit by some means through this appearance.

A Karen Filippelli answered an email for you with some nonsense about different "belief systems" justifying Moore's appearance. Different "belief systems"? That's rich! How about a complete lack thereof other than the almighty dollar on Moore's part? He is nothing but a self-aggrandizing opportunist.

Please know that I don't dislike Moore because of his political views. I dislike him because he presents a skewed point of view, manipulates it with editing to produce his own distinct opinion and then represents it as the truth. His films are less about truth than they are about the truth AS MOORE SEES IT. This makes them propaganda tools, essentially, and Moore himself has said he advocates using his film in an effort to defeat Bush. He is using his movie as a political tool. He has no objectivity and it is obvious that he is as self-serving as any of the media giants...the only thing he's promoting is himself and his anti-Bush rhetoric. This is one of your `balanced speakers'?

You say that you are giving your students the freedom to make these choices. I am a staunch believer in freedom. I am a firm supporter of the First Amendment. America is all about freedom of speech, but along with freedom of speech comes the responsibility to speak responsibly which I think we all know, Moore will not do at this, or any other, speaking engagement.

Mr. Moore has had every opportunity to speak his mind and anyone who wants to, is able to purchase his works and listen to his opinions. However, when a public institution spends almost $30,000 (regardless of the source of the funding) to help him further his personal agenda in the name of getting out the vote efforts, those of us who pay taxes and tuition fees to support that institution become unwilling advocates of that opinion and have the right to object and you, as well as the members of the ASUA, rightly deserve to take the heat for these decisions and any ramifications that may result from them especially the fact that the University's alumnus funding is going to take a major hit from this decision. While you were "ignoring the extreme views on all sides of these questions" so you could "concentrate on working with real people on real issues", I am surprised that you really haven't given this "real issue" brought to your attention by "real people" much consideration but then again, in your own words, you haven't been paying attention you've been "ignoring" it.

Never in my time attending the University of Arizona, was I subjected to any public figure or professor who flat out gave his opinions without ever having to produce any facts to back them up. Apparently things have changed on campus and I, for one, think it is detrimental to the future of the institution.

Sincerely-
My Full Name
Class of 199_

PS-On a completely different note, I find it disconcerting that for some reason you felt it was appropriate to address me with undo familiarity as if I were an acquaintance. Is this because I am only 36 years old? I find it highly doubtful that you would have responded to members of the class of 1957 with "Cheers Pete". "

All I want for Christmas is the NHL!!!
Mood:  blue
Now Playing: Henry Fiat's Open Sore
I don't know about you, but I am SO sad about the NHL lockout! The one thing I was looking forward to this fall, other than relief from the 100 billion degree temperatures here in Phoenix, was hockey season.

While I understand that at the national level hockey lacks the financial draw of some of the other professional sports, as it is mostly popular in the Midwest and places that actually have a season known as winter and experience ice, it is one of the few sports left where the majority of players actually play for the love of the game and not so much for the enormous paycheck (or maybe I just like to imagine it that way in my universe).

It also remains one of the few sports where you can tune in and watch at least three fist fights and hopefully a massive brawl within 60 minutes. How can any other sport (other than boxing or cage fighting) compare to that? Especially when there is actually a strategic game going on all the while...

If the lock out extends the entire season I will be extremely frustrated and looking for another sport setting that will allow me to snarf peanuts in the shell...

In Search of an Assistant...or Who Let the Freaks Out
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Janis Joplin
I am interviewing for a new assistant as my last one spent most of her time trying to be Asian. Seriously. The girl has a bad case of "wanna be Asian" to the point of being pathetic. It's like why don't you do something more productive perhaps, say, your work...or chase cars like a dog-just don't waste your time obsessing over wanting to be Asian. It's not healthy. I'm serious, this chick is a total Asianophile AKA Asian "freak" or Asian "obsessed" whichever term you prefer. (And do you have any idea how hard it must be to dye your hair black, cut it in a bob, learn to speak Japanese and try to pass yourself off as Asian when you are 5' 10" and weigh 300 and serious change? Exactly!)

So after getting rid of the dysfunctional Gigan (Godzilla reference), I started an earnest search for a new assistant. Can I just tell you what a total nightmare it's been?! I can't even believe the quality, no really the complete lack of quality, of the people I have had to speak to!

Out of 35 resumes sent by agencies, I scheduled 18 interviews. Out of those, I had 5 come back for second interviews. 5 out of 35. That's like 14% of the applicants. How pathetic is that with today's job market? With those percentages, I apparently have a better chance of being attacked by a rabid Duck Billed Platypus than finding decent help!

What's even sadder? The fact that I even had to interview the majority of these freaks! OY! I had no idea the carnival was in town! How can someone come across on paper as being so amazing and then walk in the door and you think "Holy Mother of Ass! Who let that crack whore in!"? I'll tell you--lies! I am now more convinced than ever that the blatant word smithing of resumes has reached an all time low! And I should know, as I am very adept at it, but at least I really have the skill set and the presentation to pull it off.

My first interview was a very pretty 22-yr old girl. When I looked down at the binder she was carrying, she had scrawled "Rachel loves Jesus" all over it. Uh, ok. That's a new level of professionalism--or a complete lack thereof--unless her husband's name is Jesus and even then...She also was "intimidated" by strong personalities (oops--screwed with me as a boss) and was "unable to multi task". Holy cripes! What job is she going to get then? You have to multi task even when you are asking "Do you want fries with that?"

I interviewed a chick on Friday who was the equivalent of a fricking human hummingbird!!! I consider myself high energy to the point of being borderline hyperactive, maybe even annoyingly so at times. She made me seem low key to the point of being torpid! I was like no fricking way could I deal with that chick on a daily basis! That and the annoying fact that she is offended by swearing--OH SHIT!(oops!)

I also had a candidate, the apparent crack whore, who did herself no favors by jumping in on a verbal sparring match between two current staffers. These two love to good naturedly rib each other and this chick jumps in and says "Oh, you deserved that one" to one of the staffers involved. H-E-L-L-O! You are interviewing here--what are you thinking Ms. Overfamiliarity/I'm one of the gang?

Then there was the gal who apparently has read somewhere that the best way to bond with your interviewer is to constantly point out the things you supposedly (as opposed to the commonly misused and non-word `supposibly' NOTE: see an entry from early on for more detail) have in common and repeat his/her name incessantly. "Oh, I agree Megan. We have such the same work ethic Megan. I could totally see us working really well together Megan. I think you and I see things the same way Megan." Cripes! By the time she was done, I wanted to change my name to Becky!

There are more nightmare candidate interview stories I could add, but it wouldn't even make me feel better to vent anymore. Much like an enema, I am just trying to forget the whole process. And to make matters worse, I did some calculations and I figure these interviews sucked at least 2 good drinking years out of me...Oh, the joy of management-NOT!

Ah, Grasshopper...
Mood:  hug me
Now Playing: Stiff Little Fingers
You guys know me. You know that I am not a high maintenance, girly-girl kind of chick. I am a pump my own gas kind of broad.

This does not mean that I do not A) absolutely LOVE sky high CFM shoes and have a collection that would make Imelda Marcos weep like a little bitch and B) sometimes have instances where I am just a normal fricking girl.

I have no fear of most things that flip girls out. Many a time I have extracted a mouse (alive, dead or somewhere in between) from the mouth of the mighty hunter, the tigerish beast that is Ottmar my Abyssinian cat. This, without fear of the Hanta Virus. Lizards? Love them! When we emptied the pool at my old house, my ex-husband used to call me the lizard wrangler because I was down in the empty pool daily rescuing lizards so they wouldn't fry in the sun. Snakes? Bring `em on! Scorpions? No problem!

So what takes me to the edge of hysteria and brutally shoves me over? Grasshoppers. Logical...probably not, but it doesn't change the fact that the mere sight of a grasshopper is enough to make me detour 100 yards or more out of my way in order to avoid one. I know it sounds insane but grasshoppers suck. They are dumb and jump at you instead of away from you. They can get tangled in your hair. Especially, when you have long hair. Enough said.

So the other night, I climb into the shower to rinse off the day. I am merrily sudsing and singing along (poorly and off key as usual) to 70's music when I get the eerie feeling that someone is watching me. I stop and look around--only to come eye to eye (so to speak) with a massive grasshopper. A grasshopper. In the shower. With me. With a very naked me.

The grasshopper launches itself at me. Psychotic behavior, on my part, ensues. The dogs go crazy as I begin shrieking and flailing and decide it is great fun to accompany me by howling along in harmony. I blindly grab the shower curtain to yank it back and get the hell out of this soggy nightmare when I slip, ripping the shower curtain off the bar in the process. I go down like a prize fighter to the floor, shower curtain haphazardly tangled around me and the shower blazing away and drenching the walls, the floor, the area rug--pretty much everything in sight is getting soaked. The dogs are merrily dancing around trying to lick me while I attempt Lamaze breathing (tough when you have never had kids) to regain my composure.

That is when the situation goes from nightmare to sheer Hell. I realize that the grasshopper is somewhere in the shower curtain...with me.

I don't think a gator trying to take down and drown prey could have spun faster than I did. I was like a human log roll on speed. I was up and out of that shower curtain in a shot. So fast in fact, that I failed to notice my proximity to the bathroom counter and proceeded to come up hard, headfirst into the marble counter and WHAM! I knock myself out.

I was having this great dream...a single Howie Long and I were having an insane mash session...when I come to, only to open my eyes and find 3 dogs worriedly licking my face. The bathroom is flooded. I am stark naked and have a splitting headache. And there, not a foot away, is the grasshopper staring at me with his evil beady little eyes.

That was it! No bastard insect is braining me and running up my water bill! I had to pull my balls out of my purse (or wherever the hell I keep them) and take action! Enough was enough!

There are now 101 uses for a handheld vacuum attachment (let's skip discussing some of the others) - insect removal. I hope Skippy enjoyed his wild ride to the collection bag...

Snooze!!
Mood:  chillin'
Now Playing: Ottmar Liebert
I don't know about you, but I am getting SO bored with the war in Iraq. Can't we start a new war someplace more interesting?

How about Japan? They have happy ending massage parlors, mountains of sushi, and giant monsters.

Now that's a country worth invading!

The Midwest's Unholy Triad
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Social Distortion
Middle America. Sometimes it amazes the hell outta' you. I went to a store in Minnesota called Mill's Fleet Farm. I was unfamiliar with Mill's Fleet Farm as apparently, it's a Minnesota/Wisconsin/North Dakota-Mid West kind of thing. I had no idea what to expect particularly after being told "You'll love it--it's got everything". Hmmm...everything. That can be interpreted a lot of ways--especially in the Midwest.

I walk through the front doors and a massive display immediately catches my attention. And when I say massive--I mean literally covering the entire front of the store.

Why did it catch my eye you ask? Well, I guess it would have to be the sheer absurdity of it...if not the sheer ludicrousness of it. It was comprised, in total, of three items. What three items you ask?

1. Beef jerky
2. The Passion of the Christ on DVD and VHS
3. Camouflage hunting gear

I kid you not...I almost wet my pants.

Someone please explain to me how dried meat, Jesus and hunting gear go together...or on second thought, please don't.

I needa...
Mood:  quizzical
Now Playing: Front 242
So have you heard the latest? HumVee (AKA `Hummer') has come out with a new product--and no, I'm not talking about the "highly" anticipated H3, like we really needed that either--it's Hummer cologne. Yep, a cologne named after a vehicle...that also represents a slang term for oral sex and, unbeknownst to many, also is a slang term in the funeral industry for the stank of a really smelly corpse. Guys--this should be on your Christmas list...right below testicular piercing!

So you're probably wondering what it smells like--me too. Gasoline? Burning rubber? New car smell? Small dicks?

Yup. Small dicks 'cuz that's what Hummer represents to me--compensation. Yeah, you know what I mean...

I can see the marketing campaign now:

Nothing says "I have a really small dick" quite like Hummer...

Hummer: Hung like a dauchhaund.

Hummer: Can you say compensation?

When you need a hummer, wear Hummer.

Scent of a Hummer.

Why do I say this? Perhaps it's just that I am a heinous bitch who only likes the H1 series.

Perhaps it's that I think the H2 is a total cut-rate pimp mobile for poseurs. In fact, the H2 is the ultimate poseur vehicle. It has the chassis of a Chevy Tahoe and a body that looks like the original Hummer; i.e., it's a Chevy Tahoe in disguise.

Why do I think this? Perfect example:

Saturday evening, Scottsdale (Snottsdale), AZ. The scene: Devil's Martini. The player: Robert AKA "Bob"...Bob wants me to come home with him and "check out" his "Jacuzzi". RIGHT! It was like a really bad game of ping pong--he would serve the cheesy line (I'm telling you, Velveeta had nothing on this guy) and I would lob it viciously back at him. He just would not take no for an answer.

The chick posse goes to leave and Bob follows us outside. The valet brings his car around and yeah, it's an H2. Not only is it an H2, his license plate says "I Needa"...yeah. Whatever L-O-S-E-R! Although I do have to admit I was torn. Part of me thought is was amusing but the other part of me had met Bob...enough said.

Ladies, this is the kind of guy who's going to pay $40 a bottle for Hummer cologne...UGH! Please hold my hair for me while I barf...

Jesus Says Refinance Now!
Mood:  surprised
Now Playing: The Best of Yes
So I got an email today from the Christian Mortgage Company--did you know that such a company even existed? Looks like everyone is trying to jump on the religious marketing bandwagon. What's next? The mortgage monks?

The subject line was classic..."Jesus loves you--refinance now!"

Say what?! Since when did the big JC direct refis? I had no idea he was in cahoots with Allen Greenspan...

I just can't see it: "Jesus loves me this I know...for grade B paper at 6 1/2 percent and 2 points tells me so..."

Personally, I have to admit I was rather bummed. I always thought, like the song says, that "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam"...apparently, he only wants me for my mortgage.

Nothing Says Lovin' Like Necrophilia
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Al Green
I don't know about you, but I know I'll be sleeping better tonight knowing that the "Governator" (AKA Arnold Schwartznegger) has signed legislation in California that makes necrophilia a crime. Yup. Necrophilia is now illegal in California. And here everyone thinks that the state is uber liberal...although I wouldn't be surprised if the ACLU fights it...I'm sure they will decide that someone's rights are being trampled by this...OY!

Is it just me or is it WAY freak that they had to even write legislation making this a crime? It is just so fricking wrong on so many levels...

Although it makes the whole "Now I lay me down to sleep..." thing a little easier to swallow. At least now I know that if I go tits up in California, when I am looking down from Heaven (Hey, it could happen), I won't have to worry about necrophiliacs ravishing my earthly remains. Whew! That's a load off!

I wonder though, does it effect people who have been cremated? Does the legislation also cover cremains or is it still ok to take a roll in the dust?

*GUEST BLOG* - F@CK EU...EUROPE!
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: Nine Inch Nails
The following is an excerpt from the T-Shirt Hell newsletter. It amused me so much, I'm posting it...enjoy!

Last week in this column, I mentioned a sport European's call football. We Americans like to call it soccer, when we talk about it at all. Which, fortunately, is not often. Usually, it's only to say things like, "I was having trouble falling asleep last night, luckily ESPN2 was showing soccer." Or, "How did it feel when that rabid badger bit you in the face?" "It was about as enjoyable as soccer."

Anyway, tons of annoying, European people took the time to unhitch their oxen, and come in from the fields to "educate me" about soccer.

"We call it football because we use our feet." They all whined. Yes, but aren't you wearing socks on those feet? Socks? Soccer? I rest my case.

Like most Americans I have no use for Europe, especially since we built such a swell version of it at Epcot, not to mention the one we built in Las Vegas. Far superior to actual Europe in terms of rides, as well as buffets, both of these versions of Europe include things that appear to be kryptonite to most real Europeans; manners, toothpaste, and deodorant.

Yes I said manners. Europeans are rude.They refuse to speak English. And the ones who do speak English speak it poorly or with a funny accent. We didn't save your pusillanimous asses from Hitler to put up with this kind of piss poor attitude.

I understand that most Europeans hate Americans. Good. We hate you more. Which brings me to another point:If you all hate America so much, will you please stop coming here? I don't think they have patrol boats off the coast of Spain picking up flimsy rafts full of Americans trying to sneak into Europe so they can start a better life.

I guess there are some good things about Europe, like EuroDisney, and I hear they've built a Hard Rock Cafe. But other than that I think it's pointless and much too far to be of any use to anyone.

If You Like Pina Coladas...
Mood:  spacey
Now Playing: Beastie Boys-Licensed to Ill
It started out as a bad day. And when I say bad day, I mean bad like wrong.

Imagine: You wake up the morning after a party at your house. You realize that a hamster apparently built a den in your mouth at some point during the night. A glass of water calls your name from the kitchen. Shift to stumbling sleepily out to the kitchen. You spot a glass of water by the sink. Hey, you think, it's the one you left there last night--SLICK! The lazy chick's way for water--pre-existing (it's just less effort that way). Take a giant glug...and when it hits about mid throat, too late to turn back now, you realize it's not yours--it's not water--it's someone's leftover, flat, 12+ hr old, warm, NASTY ASS gin and tonic.

UGH! No, double UGH!. Actually, let's just go for infinity UGH!

Note to self: Call the Guiness Book of World Records and ask if there is a record for not hurling after chugging day-after party sludge.

I prevailed. I did not chum the kitchen. In fact, I didn't even roark when, an hour later, I decided to hook myself up with some breakfast eats.

A bowl of cereal was just the ticket. Enter: the Lucky Charms. I know some of you are thinking "Hmmm...sounds benign enough." Yeah, sure everything's benign...until you add Pina Coladas. Add Pina Coladas to a bored New Jersey housewife on a cruise and she'll end up sleeping with a 20 yr old male cabaret dancer. Add it to sugar crusted flakes and artificially colored marshmallows and all hell breaks loose. (Or so it seems when you are hungover and mistake the leftover Pina Coladas for the milk...)

Lucky Charms and Pina Coladas...things that make me go UGH...

That's not to say that I won't someday revisit the whole cereal/Pina Colada combination thing. I mean it is a healthier version of the traditional Mickey Mantle breakfast--it has cereal--cereal's fiber.

I'm leaning more towards Fruity Pebbles myself...

More Mom...
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Kenny Chesney - No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem
So I call my mom Friday to check in to see what plans are on for my grandmother's birthday...

ME: "Mom?"
MOM: "Hi honey--talk about telepathy!"
ME:"Telepathy?"
MOM: "Well, I was just thinking about you..."
ME: "And I called..."
MOM: "No, the new Speigal catalog came and I started looking at the Fall fashions and I forgot all about you."

Yup. There it is...my relationship with my mother in a nut shell...

Oh Mother!
Mood:  d'oh
Now Playing: History of Punk-Prototype Punk
My mother, at best, is a pain. She can't help it, but she's a pain. A severe pain. In the tuckas. At worst, she's a shrewish harpy.

So my parents stop by my office on their way back home from vacation. The first words out of my mother's mouth were "You smell like smoke--I thought you quit". I said "I did mom". "Well then why do you smell like smoke?" So I tell her I was sitting downstairs with my boss (the CEO) and our controller, both of whom smoke. She proceeds to grab the fabric of my shirt and bring it right up to her nose, huff it and say "Are you sure? You smell like smoke".

Can you feel my aggravation level rising? I say "Mom, I told you, I quit." So she says "Let me smell your breath". WHAT?!!! My response? "No. Mom, A) we are standing in my office with my coworkers meandering the halls and B) I am 36 years old and don't want to blow in my mom's face." She starts going on and on about "You're smoking again...then why won't you let me smell your breath?" (Hmmmm mom, let's think about it...there are just so many things wrong with that) Finally I relent (gotta know what battles to pick) so I breathe into her face and she says "Ewwwwwwwwwwww--you need a breath mint!"

I guess in Denny's world, minor post lunch, onion-induced halitosis is worse than smoking...I feel like I am back in kindergarten.

Is that a Horse?
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Ottmar Leibert
Last year I lived in a gated Homeowner Association-ruled community--hated it! Gated communities are a joke--They don't keep the riffraff out, they keep the riffraff in. The only decent thing about the place was the automatic back gate entrance which made it a tad bit easier to get to my house.

One night I went to the local cowboy bar, The Silver Pony, to meet some friends for a drink. When I say cowboy bar I mean it...literally. It is the watering hole for all of the local cowboys as they can ride in from the trails and tie their horses up outside. While there, a buddy of mine--`Cowboy Mark'--rode up. He said a bunch of guys were going on a moonlight margarita ride and asked if I wanted to come. Even though I was completely not dressed for riding, (think crocheted blouse and clogs) I was all over it as liquor and horses make me a very happy girl.

After riding the the mountain trails for hours on end, I was pretty blotto to say the least. When it's a gorgeous night with amazing city views and you are cruising along on what amounts to a mobile lazy boy chair with an endless supply of margaritas--these things happen. When we got back to the Pony, I realized I was far too tanked to drive my car home. Graciously, the guys offered to escort me back to my house...on horseback.

It was about 2:30am when we reached the back gate and I used the clicker to open it for us to ride through, which I doubt was ever the HOA's intended use. Everyone rode through and things got crazy. Next thing I know, 20 horses are at a full run down the middle of my street with drunken cowboys a hootin' and a hollerin' at the top of their lungs. Sparks are flying off of the horses' shoes and tumbling like burning embers down the street into the night. It looked like a Wild West version of the horsemen of the Apocalypse tearing through suburbia.

We pulled up next to my house and I see my 20-something ASU neighbors are partying poolside. Being the polite neighbor I am I say "hey" in greeting. Jason gets up and walks over to the fence and peers over at me. "Is that a horse?" Being a smart ass (no, not me!), I replied, "No sugar, it's a jungle cat--you'd better put down that beer."

The guys needed a rest stop so I opened the back gate and they rode into my backyard. They stayed for about an hour or so and then took off into the night for parts unknown. I woke up later that morning with a fridge full of liquor they had left behind (bonus), a lawn that was alternately eaten down to the dirt or covered in horse poop (not such a bonus) and a `love' note from my Homeowners Associations tacked to the door with a warning about "illegal hooved animals pursuant to..." (no bonus whatsoever)...Ah! The life of the urban cowgirl...yee-haw!

Jester Wanted...
Mood:  silly
Now Playing: Big & Rich - Horse of a Different Color
So I read an article the other day that England wants to bring back the Court Jester and is going to advertise the position in the paper.

There is just something strange about a Help Wanted Ad for a court jester. Exactly how do you advertise that position? `Jester wanted. Must be mirthful and have own outfit complete with bells'?

I would think the fact that there hasn't been a court jester in England for over 350 years should probably tell them something. Does the future King Charles I really need a court jester to aid his digestion and prevent state affairs (like Camilla Parker Bowles) from weighing too heavily on him?

How does one garner experience in the court jester `industry' anyway? What does your resume look like? Education: Gleefulness 101; Lightheartedness 200; Advanced Laughing and Joking. Skills: Ability to carry off an outrageous clown outfit with a triple-pointed hat; willing to feign stupidity and madness for the sake of other's enjoyment (Hey now, maybe I should apply for the job).

I think they are missing one key component in the court jester job description: Midgets. I think that anyone applying for the court jester job should have to be a midget, dwarf, vertically challenged, little person, growth hormone deficient individual...whatever PC (or un-PC for that matter)nomenclature fits.

Think about it. Court jesters may be funny, but they have to work at it. Midgets just make people laugh. Who better to entertain a crowd I say?

Take for example the Swamp Stomp in Scottsdale. They know midgets are entertaining. They have featured midget wrestling with the Bloody Midgets (www.bloodymidgets.com) and midget boxing several times. The place is packed each time those short folks are in town.

I went to one of the shows and it was a scream! I'm not sure how good the actual boxing was as their arms are so short they are literally standing toe-to-toe when trying to slug each other's oversized craniums, but the showmanship is outstanding!

I actually got hit on by a midget while I was there. Apparently, lots of 'full size' (as in normal size) chicks likey the midget love. According to TEO (which he told me stands for TOTAL "E" Outstanding), "Once you go small, you'll never want tall"...uh, yeah. I had a lovely time talking to TEO, but had no desire to bring on the funk with someone I could literally swing over my shoulder in a fireman's hold and carry out to my car. (Although I would hazard to guess that he would travel well...)

According to my sister though, this was where I screwed up. It was a stellar opportunity that I passed by to totally torque my parents. How fun would it have been to show up at their house with TEO and introduce him as the future father of their grandchildren...as I held him in my lap.

I'm telling you--the world would just be a better place if everyone had his or her own midget jester...bring on the frivolity!

It Wasn't My Fault...
Mood:  cheeky
Now Playing: Modest Mouse
I can honestly say it wasn't my fault...although, it never is. I am an instigator by nature I am told, but you know, you just can't believe everything people tell you...

But really, it wasn't my fault. It wasn't even the Tootsie Roll pop's fault. I can lay the blame squarely at the feet of the big jack off who just couldn't leave well enough alone.

SCENE: Out with a group of friends at a Mardi Gras-esque bar called Fat Tuesdays in Tempe and the frozen libations are a flowin'! As DD for the evening (designated driver as opposed to designated drunk, a role I greatly prefer), I am quaffing back massive amounts of diet Coke (This on top of a Red Bull and 2 Ripped Fuel tablets--the energy charge champion of the late night party scene).

I am yakking with everyone when I decide that I need something sweet so I grab a Tootsie Roll pop out of my purse to mack on when it happens...The new Fox reality show: When Assholes Strike.

I am just sitting there minding my own gawd damn bidness (to quote the 9-1-1 deer attack tape) when this jerk off sitting nearby with his brat pack of frat rats starts mouthing off.

Ok, the first couple of comments were amusing "Hmmmm...wish I was that sucker". Oh snaps big boy for the exhilarating sexual innuendo...perhaps after you pass English 101 you could try for the double entendre. I blandly smile and ignore him, but he has started talking and he apparently can't shut up.

The idiot comments just start flowing from him like lava from the I'm a complete nimrod volcano (it's located on the island of Molokai if you are wondering...).

At first, I keep up the Oh ha, ha, you funny, funny, little man. Then it becomes the exasperated eye roll. Then it progressed to just staring straight ahead and ignoring the juvenile cretin.

Suddenly, the situation comes to a head rather quickly.

Jack off: I bet I have something you'd rather be sucking
His friends: snigger, snigger, hee, hee (like a bunch of fricking little girls I tell you)
Me: Oh, I highly doubt that.

If it had just stayed at that point, it would have been fine. Unfortunately for Jack off he made the fatal mistake: he reached over and attempted to grab me. WRONG ANSWER DICK WEED! No one touches me without my express permission and strangers need not apply.

Rumor has it that I am a very patient person (refer to `What Idiot Let You on the Road'). My patience, however, does not extend to unwelcome physical contact from annoying, drunken, ASU shit weasels.

The play-by-play from those highly amused and soused souls in attendance is that I reacted quicker than a smoke ninja to counter his frontal attack. As he reached out to grab me (just where we will never know now),I reached up, grabbed him by the ears and performed a WWF style head slam...AKA head butt.

It was like watching the giant fall from Jack's beanstalk - all slow motion and kind of surreal. Down, down, down, he went until he hit the sticky, drink-encrusted floor with a resounding thud. Silence fell across the forest. I could hear the crickets chirping in the vacuum...well if crickets could be heard over the DJ's pounding tunes and the bar hadn't yet been closed down by the health department for a cricket infestation...

Anywho, as I looked around in the aftermath with my Tootsie Roll pop still firmly clenched in my mouth (which I figure is definitely one of the "activities not to do with a sucker" rules every adult nags you about when you are a kid--You know--don't run, don't play on the swings, don't head butt others...)I see that my friends are just rolling and laughing hysterically.

His friends' eyes were bigger than the subject of a Margaret Keane "Waif" painting and they were completely freaked out. Apparently it was an alien concept to them that a Tootsie Pop wielding Betty wouldn't meekly submit to being man handled but instead would run a great defense and drop their buddy. Eventually, they did pull themselves together long enough to pry the large jack off blob from the floor and make their way out of the bar.

In celebration, I unwrapped another Tootsie Roll pop...