Step around the poop, if you can

For those of you who have been keeping up with the Skankarella files, Shea finally has a bit of an update.
For those of you slackers who aren't keepin' up, please refer to "A Real Epidsode of Fear Factor" followed by "Skankarella revenge part 2." THEN you should be up to date.

By Shea White:

The day after the rawhide dog chewy incident, I called in sick because I just didn't feel like dealing with booger bitch upon my arrival.
That, and I actually WAS fetal position sick for the greater portion of the day. I'm gonna go ahead and blame it on the switchboard cootie epidemic, as opposed to the vast amounts of alcohol I consumed the night before.
Fuck 'em though...I NEVER call in sick unless I'm on the verge of death. That day, I thought I was close.

I came back to work on Friday pumped up and ready to hurl a chair Geraldo style right in skanktwat's snotty pen chewing face, should she choose to get mouthy on me. I knew she was pissed, I just didn't know if she could actually yank up enough nut sack to say anything to me.
I came into my office and sat down, patiently waiting for her to finish taking the stream of phone calls that were coming in at the time.
I asked her politely "Are you finished with your work here, or do I need to go somewhere else for a while?"
She said "Oh, I've got all my work on the computer done, because you know how good I am with computers, I got all my computer work done already because I'm so smart and I'm really good on computers."
For fuck's sake....I'm just lookin' for a "yes" or "no" on this one; PLEASE quit flappin' your cock holster.
Then it continued. "And by the way, I didn't really appreciate the rawhide chews in the pen holder yesterday...I don't know HOW the pens are getting chewed, I just keep finding them like that. Frankly, it's disgusting and I would never do such a thing. I don't understand how you could think it was me, but it wasn't......" Blah, blah, blah.
So what, we've got invisible pen chewing rodents running rampant now? Lemme guess....one of 'em is Harvey and we're gonna call the other one Fred.
Keep telling yourself whatever you need to; I'm still bringing my own damn pens. I stared at her blankly as she denied her obviously uncontrollable oral fixation yet again. Then she dropped it. Never said another fuckin' word....well, about the chewy thing anyway.

Then it changed the subject and kept talking to me. And talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and talking summore like I was it's best and only buddy.
I don't remember what it told me, because I was trying not to listen - or pick up the chair I was sitting in to swing it at her. I could no longer control the epileptic facial twitches that inevitably occur when I'm forced to hear people incessantly drone the fuck on about shit I never wanted to know in the first place. I'm pretty sure I got up and walked out. I do that a lot.

Upon my return, I noticed a box of food which skankfest declared was for me. [-I find it odd that Harvey and Fred continue to devour my pens, yet had no desire to eat my food.]
I had completely forgotten I ordered lunch from the ladies who occasionally bring us food a few days prior. I was pissed for a minute when I remembered I didn't have enough cash....I had like $2 on me, and I owed the ladies $5 for it.
Skankdouche actually offered to buy my lunch. And she did. I couldn't believe it. I really should be mean more often.

A couple hours after the cootie parade clocked out, apparently it had it's mother call.
I often wondered if it even had a belly button, because I was pretty sure it was hatched, but here's mommaskank wanting to know what kind of heater her offspring was allowed. She said she had a heater up there, but that it's missing now.
"My little whore is cold natured and is freezing her infested cesspool of a cunt nearly off every day.
She NEEDS a heater because her genital warts are cold natured too, and she can't concentrate when they start shivering too.
I don't understand why you people won't let her have a heater because that's just cruel." It's not nearly as cruel as having to look at the bitch's face. As professionally as I could, I replied "Because it's a hundred godamn degrees outside and nobody wants to sit in her lagoon of fuckin' ass sweat." Actually, what I think I said was "We have way too much equipment up here, and it's just not necessary."

That heater was literally on it's last leg anyway and was a SERIOUS fire hazard. Probably because I kicked it one too many times, but whatever.
Then mommaskank said "Well, then I guess I'll just have to talk to your boss about it tonight when I see him."
HA HAA HAAAA! You go ahead and do that.
I know good and godamn well he started drinking HOURS ago, and if he actually gives a flyin' fuck about what you're spouting off at him, he won't remember it tomorrow anyway. I never heard from my boss about the heater situation, so either A) I was right, or B) I was right.

I go through the same self defeating process every god forsaken day.
Skankfest tries to talk to me, my eyes roll back a lot while trying to ignore it, it eventually leaves, I lysol the infected area.
Wash, rinse, repeat.

Then one of my favorite salesmen walked by and said "You know I got written up for your little stunt the other day, don't ya?"
Um, nope. *snicker* What happened buddy?
Evidently,he walked by the office while the rawhides were in the pen holder, looked at her, and said "Hey Chewey, what's up?"
I'll admit it wasn't the most brilliantly sadistic line ever, but it was still pretty funny. At least I got a chuckle out of it.
Apparently she didn't. It pissed her off enough, she turned him into our comptroller who had to write him up.
I don't know which "rule" it was she was having to enforce, but it looks like it wasn't in MY copy of the handbook policies.
Bummer dude. Sorry 'bout that, but not very. If I had known you could get written up for giving people aliases, I'da never taken this damn job. I should have been fired YEARS ago.

A day later, the comptroller walked by my office. She stuck her head in my door and said "Shea, I need to talk to you in my office for a while...get Steph to answer the phones for you."
Fuck fuck fuuuuuck fuckitty fuck.
Welp, I guess this is it. There was no sense in arguing about it, my stunt was a wee tad outside of normally acceptable professional boundaries and I knew I'd have to deal with the consequences eventually. Fine.
I felt like I'd been sent to the principal's office, AGAIN.
Bend me over, I'll take my licks like a big girl, I'll sign my paperwork and be the fuck outta here. It's not like I don't know the routine by now.
She had me close the door and sit down. When people call you into their office and tell you to shut the door, it's rarely good news. *sigh*

Well, it turns out skankfest didn't turn me in. The only reason I was being called into the comptroller's office, was because I sent her a copy of the last two skanklogs.
Any lesser of an evil genius might not have done so....but I'm crafty.
She said she was unaware of any excessive hygiene (or anti-hygiene) issues.
Not only did I NOT get written up, they ordered me a new headset (after already giving me money for a new one the day before), AND ordered me a new chair without actually having seen the visible rings of moisture in my current one.
This might not seem like much of a feat to those of you reading, but if you had ANY clue how tight fisted my company is, you'd know this is nothing short of miraculous.

Jesus himself couldn't get a new chair out of these ass holes without the threat of a plague or turning people into salt pillars.
The comptroller told me "We'll keep it under the other desk and tell skankfest it's because you've got a bad back, and that she's not to sit in it, adjust it, or have anything to do with it."
This ROCKS! Then she said "Please Shea, if you have any more problems, remember you can come to me."
Yeah thanks, but it was MUCH more entertaining this way; I pshaw the people and their silly rules, and don't believe the majority of them should apply to me anyway. I high fived everybody I saw on the way back to my office....even the people who didn't work here or know what the fuck was going on. It was fantastic.

So, in summary: I WON -ish.
I'm not really sure what it is I won yet, aside from a new headset and a chair (which as of this moment has not yet arrived), but I'm ok with that.
I never did make skankarella cry, and she does still work here, so a little bit of me feels as though I failed, but it was really all about the principle of the thing. I tolerate the skank when I have to, and ignore her when it's at all possible. Maybe I am growing up a little bit....ok, pfffttttt! Fuck mature, I like me the way I am.

So I get to work today and there was an email waiting for me from a lady who rescued cats from Katrina who is now writing a book to be ready by this fall for sale
And she wants my story about Voodoo. (see archived blog entry "Spirt and Heart-9/15/05 for details)
The lady called me and I gave her my story-then she told me she needed to talk to the owner of the cat so he can give her more detailed info about him like favorite foods,toys etc. for her profile. I was trying to hide, but had to dig up his email address and phone number for her so she can have the information on Voodoo that I dont have. Suprisingly, this little request actually hurt and scared me. What if he has changed his phone and email? I dont like facing this shit.
I just wanted to forget he existed in my life and not even think about this stuff. I love Voodoo though, would love to see his profile get into a book. So, I have to do what I have to do-tomorrow is another day. I can be isolated and selfish then.

Well heres some of what I wrote to the book-rescue lady-I thinks its ok but I dont know what he will think, I dont think he knows all of this(Im sort of embarrassed):

"I am former "friend" of a man who live(d) in New Orleans. I feel like I went thru this horrible tradgedy with him-I guess I did and I was glad because it was a humbling experience to help someone you love deal with a tradgedy .
The cat's name is VooDoo-I hadnt met him yet as he was in New Orleans and I was in Los Angeles-but I knew and loved his owner and I loved VooDoo very much because of this!
Because of my love for animals, especially, cats, my own involvment with cat rescues out here in California and the thought of poor VooDoo without his person or food, I found it my mission to get VooDoo taken care of.
I couldnt give up on VooDoo! I was feeling love-for the little boy, even my friend had given up because some of his friend's insisted VooDoo was probably dead and drowned already. He was so depressed but I refused to give into the worst...


My friend,who lived in Orleans Parish, had come to California on a business trip a few days prior to the orders to evacuate New Orleans due to an impending violent hurricane, so, only expecting to be gone a few days, Voodoo, the cat, was left with a few days worth of food and water until the return of his person.
That was before the hurricane. Poor Voodoo,living, breathing and dependant,the baby, was on his own.
Up until early in the AM hours,for 8 days straight, I contacted rescue group after rescue group for Voodoo and my friend, signed up with so many organizations,called many good hearted individuals,posted on the NOLA.com pet rescue forum with -"PLEASE SAVE MY CAT-SOS" titled on every subject line
I cried every night,I ate little, I prayed on my knees-I didnt want to tell my dear friend all that I was doing behind the scenes as I couldnt bear to get his hopes up just to have his heart to break if the worst news came, I wanted to get any news, so I could tell him first.
Poor Voodoo, where is he? How is he surviving? Is he eating? Will he be found? One night,I happened to be on one of the forums on the NOLA.com site, and noticed someone had posted Gulfsails.blogspot.com because they were showing photos of flooded areas on there. I dont know why, I wasnt really trying to look at devastating new orleans flood pictures,I just wanted Voodoo saved, I went to this blogsite and I looked at the pictures and noticed the address that was posted on there seemed awful close to my friend's address-so because of this, I got creative...I posted another SOS advertisement with my email address, in the comments section - thinking to myself, that the address in the blog posting appears close to the apartment complex that Voodoo is in, perhaps this person can somehow see about Voodoo-or at least feed him.
Next day, I get an email from the person whose blogsite I commented in with my plea, she was requesting that I sign and fax back to her permission to enter the apartment-I did this in 2 seconds.
This was on a Thursday-2 weeks after Voodoo was left alone. Well, little did I know, the person I had commented to was from the Iberia Humane Society(West side of Louisiana) who was leaving Iberia at 4am on Saturday to set out to New Orleans to rescue animals by boat.
That Saturday morning, I got a message from this wonderful woman named,Kelsey- she and her crew just rescued Voodoo, he was in their boat safe and sound.
I cried with happiness when I heard this.
I couldnt wait to dial up my honey with this info, he was so happy-he stumbled over his words and asked tearfully, "are you sure its him?" After I reassured him that it was indeed Voodoo because they were in his apartment when they got him-I called Kelsey back and she said she would take Voodoo to a shelter somewhere where he'd be safe until he was picked up. He was brought to a vet who sent me a digital picture immediately-which I sent to my frantic sweetie.
Mike, who was in the crew with Kelsey,had scaled up the balcony using just his arm strength, and rescued Voodoo from under the bed.
I want to give a big lick and a purr to the Iberia Humane Society, especially Kelsey and her crew for the heroic rescue."

thats the sound my tv has been making for a week




Stupid Fucking Cox.net

I tried to call them today and was placed on hold for an hour-I never did get to talk to anyone-I guess the 2 people that were working there today, at COX, were on break.

Of course there is always someone there to bill you monthly for their services whether they work or not.

Darren Mack appears with his mother, Joan Mack, in this family photograph.


The story of a 45 year old rich Pawn store owner, Darren Mack has intrigued me-He recently stabbed and killed his estranged wife,Charla outside their townhouse then a little while later that day, shot the divorce judge in the chest by a shot or shots that came through his office window at the Mill B. Lane Justice Center,which critically injured him
Mack earned more than $500,000 a year and had a net worth of $9.4 million as recently as 2004, according to court documents.
Evidently, from my research, this guy was into the "swinger" lifestyle as he had his profile on several internet dating sites.



Charla,his ex, was afraid for her life


I found this blog entry on a blog called "Uncommon Sense" as I was surfing around the internet looking for more detail about this case:

Darren Mack
"This post shall be a tough one. Those who follow the news ought to recognize the name in the title.

Darren is my cousin. I was born on a January 29th, and he, the 31st -- of the same year, 1961. Our mothers -- 1st cousins and very close companions and friends in those years -- were in the very same hospital at the very same time. Our parents took outings and trips together in those days, so I'm personally suspicious that conception occurred for both couples on one of those getaways -- though I've understandably never breached the subject.

How's that for background, for feeling, if you will? I've an indescribable, many-faceted heartbreak over this sad event, perhaps to an extent even close family members don't realize, and what follows ought only to heighten it. I've a secret: part of what I owe, insofar as success in business and finance (those who read regularly, know), I owe to: my grandfather, Clarence Goodsell, and the Mack family -- both role models of sorts as I was growing up. Truth be told, whenever my grandparents were throwing a party -- and they did it in the best traditions of the post-depression era -- I always looked forward to the arrival of the Macks. They owned the largest pawn shop in Reno, Nevada, The Palace Jewelry & Loan, and even in the early 60's were on their way to solid wealth. I, as a young boy, sensed it. I knew it. I didn't understand any of it at the time, but I was inspired. I understood that they had more options than we (I) had, in any number of material ways, and I was determined to make such options my options -- eventually. And I have to much extent, all on my own. I'll give me, that.

You have to understand the way Darren and I grew up. My grandfather, Clarence Goodsell, was a giant. Darren's grandfather, Royal Goodsell, a giant. My grandfather, the oldest of many siblings out of Idaho -- who turned his art to painting signs at at the height of his business -- counted every major casino in Reno his client (in those days, all those interior signs you see in casinos were hand painted). Royal, as to my recollection, was a skilled gunsmith to the finest detail and was later to open the pawn shop with Darren's parents.

Here's where Clarence & Royal settled. Clear away the label, zoom in & out. The green arrow is where my parents built a house on land gifted to them by my grandfather when they were married. Go straight east to the Truckee river, and that house built at a 30 degree angle my grandfather built with his own hands. Straight south, across the rotunda was Royal's house, built by his hand. Look north and west, along the river. Clarence owned that property (10 acres) and built those houses and rented them out. Look south and west. Royal owned that property and built houses and rented them out. Those open fields were horse pastures. Reno has seasons, and this looks to be taken very early spring before things are really green. I remember it from the 60s, and unfortunately, it looks like dumb asses have taken out dozens of beautiful willow trees that were everywhere. We used to climb them, build tree houses in them, and swing from tires roped around their branches.

And that's what Darren and I grew up with. Lucky? Have you a clue? Can you imagine what it was like, daily observing men of such stature, Clarence and his brother Royal, interacting, living only a stone's throw away? They were close, but more importantly, they respected one-another as independent, self-made men -- a lesson I picked up early.

(speaking of throwing stones, Darren and I were perhaps five or six years old when one day he decided -- for no reason I'm aware of to this day -- to start throwing rocks at me from down near Royal's house. I went crying to mommy, who told me to take care of it myself. By this time, Darren was in his grandfather's garage where I confronted him face-to-face. "Guess what," I said. "What," he replied, and I punched him in the nose -- then turned tail and ran. Remember it like it was yesterday. Well, I can tell you that this event caused a bit of a rift between my grandmother and his for at least a few weeks.)

I still remember a day in the early 70s when my grandfather was down fly fishing on his property, which he was very particular about. He always said: "Anybody is welcome to come down and fish or swim in the river, but they ask my permission first." Well, on that day, he came across some hippies having a party on the riverbank quite a way up the property. They hadn't asked permission, i.e., they had ignored the No Trespassing signs posted in conspicuous places. He told them to leave. They responded by picking up a large piece of driftwood and clubbing my grandfather across the face to such an extent he was unrecognizable for several days. When he made it back home and word got around, the next thing I saw was Royal running across the field with a gun in each hand. I was no more than ten or eleven, and I remember it as though it happened moments ago.

I remember so much, and I could not begin to relay it all in this short space, but mostly I remember that I grew up in a place where the ultimate authority, after my own parents, were those two wise men down by the river. We were as self-governed as it was possible to be, in those days. The thought of ever soliciting help or guidance, or anything from anyone else, or the local government was just never even a matter of conversation. We did not need them. Didn't want them.

Such were the times of my life, thinking back. We moved away from that place when I was thirteen or so and I've wished many times that we never had. Darren and his family were inexorably a part of it -- a part that made it part of what it was and nothing changes that, for me.

As often happens, people drift apart. Our families were eventually at completely different levels financially, and I perhaps understand now more than ever why it is that such things happen like that. I've perhaps seen Darren only a dozen times since we were kids, but I always enjoyed seeing him and talking with him, and I'd always hoped to be able to talk to him as an equal peer in business one day.

The last time I saw him was about two years ago when his mom held a reunion of sorts at her house on the other side of the river. I drove up from San Jose. Darren drove up from across town. Unknown to either of us, we were both driving the exact same model, same color Hummer H2. Figure that. We talked a great deal that day, mostly about business. He was having a minor issue with a mutual cousin that was working for him in the pawn shop and who couldn't understand why Darren was treating the matter so harshly. We both looked at each other and there was an immediate mutual understanding. For whatever reason, the family-member employees get no breaks. That's just the way it is.

I don't wish to dwell on the events in the news. You're welcome to draw your own conclusions, and comments are closed for this entry. I know nothing of judge Chuck Weller. Sure, I've read the news articles and the various postings about how he's a dictatorial judge and so on. I'm fairly certain that losers in court cases are more motivated to post on the Internet and talk to the media than are the winners.

But that's not the problem, here. I find it conceivable that judge Weller was sincerely trying to do his best to come up with fair solutions and see to the well being of children according to his judgment in the cases he presided over. I also find it conceivable that the very same man might find tendency to stick it to a well-known, popular rich guy about town just because he can and just because the rich guy doesn't like being told what to do with his own property.

But that's still not the problem. The problem is that men and women get into marriage based on cultural and/or religious ideals and when it turns sour they realize that they are caught up in a state legal system. Legal systems are designed to have a winner and a loser, so if your divorce goes to trial, somebody wins, somebody loses. Throw the intimacy of sleeping together for years, children, houses, cars, furniture, ongoing living expenses, and everything else into the mix and what you have is a volatile situation and it's only a wonder that more of this sort of thing doesn't happen.

But people put their trust in the state and this is what the state does. It chews up one person with the teeth of another. A bit of advice: when you think you need a divorce, go find a third party that both of you respect and have him or her lock the two of you in a room, twelve hours per day, until you come up with a mutually agreeable marriage termination. Don't let a judge who knows very little about you -- and can never know enough -- make the sort of decisions you're expecting him to make impartially.

I never met Charla Mack and so have nothing positive or negative to say on a personal level. What I do know is that she had and Darren has a seven-year-old daughter together. And if what Darren is accused of is true, this is where my sympathy -- but not sorrow -- must end. Barring an immediate threat to his life by Charla, he had no right to take his daughter's mother, and he had no right to take his daughter's father, which is the effective result of the matter. I'll not dwell on it, mostly 'cause I can't bear to think about it, but I do feel for that little girl. Damn. Damn!

Did I ever see anything like this coming? Not in a million years, and for those of you equipped to think on this level, it was precisely because we all grew up with guns and weapons and hunting and such that nothing like this was never imagined to happen. You may not get that, but there are some who get it perfectly, and that's enough for me.

To Darren's mom, brother, and three children: I wish you all the best and I am so sorry for your loss and hardship. Take care."

There are these specialty items:







And then there's this(and we all know at least one personally)

Brian Wilson turns 64 today.

Former Beatle Paul McCartney found out we'll still need him, still feed him when he turned 64 on Sunday. Now, it's Beach Boy co-founder Brian Wilson who reaches the magic number today. But then Brian never made fun of senior citizens as the Beatles did -- at least in the same way.

Also celebrating birthdays today -- already legendary movie director Robert Rodriguez ("El Mariachi," "From Dusk to Dawn," "Spy Kids" and "Sin City") is 38. Nicole Kidman is 39. John Goodman is 54. And -- holy smoke! -- actor Danny Aiello is 73!

Today also marks the official start of the Victorian Era -- the day a young Queen Victoria took the throne of England in 1837. She died in 1901 after a more-than-60-year reign. And some say her era has never really ended (Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson notwithstanding).

I always had an idea that something wasnt right-I know that there is nothing I can do for the guy, nor do I think he would even listen or want to know, but just this knowledge,just knowing that it wasnt ME, made me feel lots better-Im not one to put labels on people, and I dont say that this is absoluty for sure, but, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck....

How to recognize a narcissist :
Never love anything that can't love you back
-- Joanna Ashmun

One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in tiny Anytown got up early and went to the local church. Before the service started, the townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking about their lives, their families, and so on.
Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church.

Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from evil incarnate. Soon everyone had left the church except for an elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew, not moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy was in his presence.

Now, this confused Satan a bit, so he walked up to the man and said, "Hey! Don't you know who I am?"

The man replied, "Yep, sure do."

Satan asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.
Satan was a little perturbed at this and queried, "Why aren't you afraid of me?"
The man calmly replied, "I've been married to your sister for 25 years."

The Narcissist
The simplest everyday way that narcissists show their exaggerated sense of self-importance is by talking about family, work, life in general as if there is nobody else in the picture. Whatever they may be doing, in their own view, they are the star, and they give the impression that they are bearing heroic responsibility for their family or department or company, that they have to take care of everything because their spouses or co-workers are undependable, uncooperative, or otherwise unfit. They ignore or denigrate the abilities and contributions of others and complain that they receive no help at all

Traits of the Narcissist:

amoral/conscienceless
authoritarian
care only about appearances
contemptuous
critical of others
cruel
disappointing gift-givers
don't recognize own feelings
envious and competitive
feel entitled
flirtatious or seductive
grandiose
hard to have a good time with
hate to live alone
hyper-sensitive to criticism
impulsive
lack sense of humor
naive
passive
pessimistic
religious
secretive
self-contradictory
stingy
strange work habits
unusual eating habits
weird sense of time
The most telling thing that narcissists do is contradict themselves. They will do this virtually in the same sentence, without even stopping to take a breath. It can be trivial (e.g., about what they want for lunch) or it can be serious (e.g., about whether or not they love you). When you ask them which one they mean, they'll deny ever saying the first one, though it may literally have been only seconds since they said it -- really, how could you think they'd ever have said that? You need to have your head examined! They will contradict FACTS. They will lie to you about things that you did together. They will misquote you to yourself. If you disagree with them, they'll say you're lying, making stuff up, or are crazy. [At this point, if you're like me, you sort of panic and want to talk to anyone who will listen about what is going on: this is a healthy reaction; it's a reality check ("who's the crazy one here?"); that you're confused by the narcissist's contrariness, that you turn to another person to help you keep your bearings, that you know something is seriously wrong and worry that it might be you are all signs that you are not a narcissist]. NOTE: Normal people can behave irrationally under emotional stress -- be confused, deny things they know, get sort of paranoid, want to be babied when they're in pain. But normal people recover pretty much within an hour or two or a day or two, and, with normal people, your expressions of love and concern for their welfare will be taken to heart. They will be stabilized by your emotional and moral support. Not so with narcissists -- the surest way I know of to get a crushing blow to your heart is to tell a narcissist you love her or him. They will respond with a nasty power move, such as telling you to do things entirely their way or else be banished from them for ever.

I am seriously considering liposuction for the hips,stomach,thighs.
I know, I know...creepy. But, I want to look and feel better about myself and I just dont...so Im thinking this should help. Im not rich, but there is financing for this available, making it tempting.

If I had 3 wishes, one wish would be that I was an athletic aerobics instructor who rock climbs and surfs on the weekends and looked like it too.
Or was married to a plastic surgeon. (free Botox!)

Of course, I would have to look like the former to land a plastic surgeon so I will go back to the athletic aerobic instructor wish thing





If I had a girl child I would definitly push hard for her to be athletic from an early age and encourage her strongly to continue working out in some way, ferverently, just like some parents urge their kids to go to college
I'd be standing be the door with hockey sticks and roller skates in my left hand and a bungee cord in my right hand.
Whole wheat and fish would be in her vocabulary as well as fuck and shit.
I wouldnt tell her that she was jewish. This knowledge would immediately have her eating and not exercising for fear she would "s-vitz" (perspire)
Girl jews and jews over 50 dont like to do that.

I guess I gave the cat's too many treats. Not only was I giving kitties the stinking tuna skin shit that cost 3 bucks a can, I also was giving them something called "Greenies" (5 bucks a bag)


You wouldnt think anything is wrong with that, right? Except one of my cats woke me up at 2am the other morning, as she clunked loudly off the pillow next to me where she usually sleeps..I opened my eyes and suddenly all my senses started working, like that sense of smell..my nose immediately picked up the scent of... SHIT
"Well, maybe it will go away in a minute" I thought "its probably just the litter box stinking-I'll deal with it in a few hours" but the stench hung in the air. I didnt wait a few hours when I turned and my hand landed on something wet and slimey, I shot up like I was on fire.Immediately
I turned on the light and found my cat probably had need for Kaopectate..My poor hand was coated in over digested Greenies as were the sheets on my bed, the rug, the bathroom floor, my foot as I stepped in the madness that was once in my cat's intestine, and the cat herself was dressed in brown with green accessories.
After I washed up everything including Kitty herself,no noise escaped her grill for a whole day-she was vaa-clempt and embarrassed or feeling nauseated(join the club)
The Greenies are put away and wont see daylight for a while-much to the dismay of my cats'

Oh here's an interesting turn of events regarding:
The so called 30 year old Aussie stud who wrote the "will be in town and JUST want company" ad and placed it on Liar-List.com
The one where I retardly answered it with my 46 year old self....DEE DEE DOY, expecting just to have a nice evening with a PERSON who is from another country and received a sweet reply email from him after I told him my age of "I just dont know,I'll think about it-do you work out, send me photos-cheers"
Remember?(see the story below for background)



Well, I sent him photos and told him never mind about going out.
Apparently he liked them, he hurried and emailed me to tell me he liked my photos and that he wants to meet me.(Im so fucking lucky) And asked me to have a drink with him-next weekend, evidently the foreign studling will be in the US for a few more weeks
The whole demeanor of his emails have changed. For instance, he doesnt wait a day to answer, he answered the last 2 emails from me in a few hours and doesnt end the email with CHEERS instead now its, take care, and signs off with his name.

I have seen his photo,and this is just a thought, one shouldnt be so picky when one has no neck.

As far as having a drink with him, well, I just dont know, I'll think about it- Cheers.

My cats fucking love these treats, this shit stinks like a bowl of steaming pooh but they about bite my fingers off when I dangle a piece of these paper thin shaved tuna skins in front of their grills.



I go on Craigslist.org a couple nights ago-I guess just cause I like to see what weird shit I can find on this site.
Well, on that particular night was an ad from some dude in Australia who writes-

"a fun loving, good looking Aussie here and I am traveling around the county and having a blast. I will be in OC on the 17th to 18th Jun and I will be looking for a great night out on the Saturday night (17th Jun). I am 30 and I would like to find places (bars/nightclubs) where I can meet people my own age. I would be very interested in find a place to met women for dancing/chatting/drinking and what ever else the night may hold for us. I would love to have a tour guyde for the weekend so if you are a cool minded girl up for some fun, let me know. Also, if you are a cool guy with only girls on your mind and you would like to go out, let me know. I am also looking for places to surf so please let me know of any. Also any girls or guys who want to go for a surf, let me know. Can't wait to finally see the OC."


So Dumb me, I actually email this dude- thinking, "oh fun, someone to go to a comedy club with" I totally forgot momentarily, that I am 46 years old-Granted I dont look like it,think like it or feel like it but I yam what I yam...a 46 year old fucking woman and no 30 year old would be interested in going anywhere especially a comedy club with a geezer my age.

After I email him the 1st email to suggest the comedy club, he seems excited about going and,indeed, wants to go then he requests that I-email him about what Im like,and a photo of myself. So in my 2nd email I am yaking away and mention my age and send him a photo

Whoops-I mentioned the age thing

He emails me back and, I swear thru the email system you can actually hear the sound brakes make when they have skidded on the road, as he replies,
"I dont know, I'll have to think about it- do you like exercise? Send me another picture of yourself. Cheers"

Granted, Im old compared to him, but I dont have a hump on my back or use a scooter to get around town- and that fucking email really destroyed what little I have left of my ego, I felt like an antique lawn gargoyle.
Guess he was afraid Id talk about Starsky and Hutch or Elton John all night long or maybe he was afraid I would look like/act like his, MUM (Aussie for Mom)or my body is full of scales when the clothes come off, Obviously he wants someone to SHAG (Aussie for: get laid ,or maybe "get laid" is the term they use over there too)
Anyway who wants to shag their mum? or someone who is probably full of scales when the grandma panties drop to the floor?

I emailed him back a few more pictures of myself and wrote, nicely, as Im representing the US woman, that I would not be able to meet up with him but wished him a good visit to the OC


(Do I look like grandma Moses?)


My Lord, I cant win.
I hate being around people my age or older as I find they are way too mature for me in conversation,or look like they could care less about taking care of theirselves - and now I find, the younger set doesnt want anything to do with me either

I guess he would benefit from a visit to Hooters.
Oh, and, by the way, HOW does one get to be a world traveler at age 30? I can barely afford to go to the market down the street at age 46

I just had a cup of coffee and know I gotta use the litterbox-Im at work, but what can you do? Its about ready to fall out of my hind end
Well, its probably not the best time to let out an explosive poop when you see that the person in the next stalls',legs are crossed like they're reading something. In fact, they might be a red neck.

So, since I have no choice-As Im on the bottom most floor that has restrooms, I have to make my way on the elevator to the next floor above-the bathroom is usually deserted there and I can fart and shit until I cant stands the smell anymore without the fear of someone I eat lunch with being in the stall next to me.

I am waiting for the elevator on my floor to arrive,sqeezing my butt cheeks together, though it seems like an eternity, a door finally opens and a coworker steps out out of the elevator and announces to me and everyone, as Im about to enter the car, that "this one is going up!" "yes, I know" I replied. As the door shut, I saw everyone on my floor look at me. I guess they figured out what my mission was about!
How dainty. But what can a girl do with shit almost hanging out her ass?

By Shea White

The continuing Saga of Shea's problem at work.

As many of you may know, my friend Shea has had a bit of a problem with one of the co-workers....if you could call her that. If you havent yet, read the 5/25/06 entry, "A Real Episode of Fear Factor" please do so at this time, because you're gonna need some background on this one to appreciate it. Go ahead, I'll wait...

"... I did what I could to tolerate skankarella's presence since we have to work out of the same fishbowl of an office. It was excruciatingly hard considering the moisture situation in my chair.
RINGS of ass sweat in my chair every day...I shit you not, they're visible. It's just too much for a semi-sane person to handle.
I finally ended up moving the space heater that she insisted on running full blast under the desk to the phone room.
It took me 3 years to figure out where the phone room was, and it stays locked, so there's no fear of her finding it before it gets cold. We've had record breaking temperatures here lately, up around 100 degrees. There is NO reason to have a fuckin' HEATER going, especially if your ass sweats enough to leave a puddle. Seriously.
Since the removal of the heater, the moisture situation has lessened somewhat, but has not yet come to a complete halt. She bitched and whined to everyone in the office BUT me about how cold she was and asked them if they knew where the heater had gone.
They each politely snickered and said "Um, I don't know..." A few days of that, and she started wearing a leather jacket to one-up the pity fest.
One day I walked in and she had 9 pounds of tape on a FedEx envelope covering the air conditioner vent. I looked at her with a furrowed brow and said "Skankfest, all you have to do is SHUT the vent. It closes. Just push the metal parts together....no more a/c." She looked as baffled as if I were speaking in hieroglyphics.

I restocked on some Clorox disinfectant spray and continue to use it daily for the germ fest that is constantly hacked all over my equipment. I've NEVER seen the bitch cover her mouth to cough, and she does it frequently.
The mouthpiece to my headset is now encrusted with multiple layers of ick, and I'm afraid that only a blowtorch would be a sufficient sanitizer.

My problem lies in the fact that our schedules overlap by an hour.
I get here at 1:30, she doesn't leave until 2:30. She's supposed to leave my office when I get there and do the rest of her work in another office, but for some reason she repeatedly deems it necessary to talk to me about anything she can think of whether I want to hear it or not.
I stare at the wall, or the floor, or out the window trying at all costs to avoid eye contact.
I file my nails or re-organize my wallet and do what I can not to reply, lest she thinks I give a shit.
It still just keeps talking to me.

Yesterday when I came to work it said "Heeeey honeeey!"
just like it does every day.
Every time I hear it say that, I have to keep myself from blurting out "Listen skankwad, DON'T call me that EVER unless you wanna get carried outta here in a body bag."
I'm trying my absolute best to be polite. It's SOOOOOooooo hard though.

She then proceeded to tell me no less than SEVEN times about how she had fixed our printer.
I heard you the first 3 times fuckface.
"The cable didn't go all the way into the back, and since I'm so good with computers I started checking all the wires and found out that this one was loose, and because I'm so good with computers...did you know I'm good with computers, 'cause I'm really good with computers."
Please dear God, give me the strength not to shank this bitch right here and now.

She finally left and I had gone about my business as usual, after the ceremonial un-cootie spray.
One of the girls from the title office came in and asked if I could sign something for her. "Sure, no problem."
I reached for a pen out of my coffee mug and lo and behold, it looked like a rottweiler had gotten a hold of it.
I threw it at the trash can (but missed due to it's velocity) and yelled "That snotty faced pen chewing BITCH!!!"
The poor title girl immediately returned to her office and told the other girls that would be the last time she asked me to sign anything.
She now understands it was nothing personal, but anybody with an ounce of reasoning would have probably run for the hills at that point too.

I picked up the pen from the floor and taped it to a memo, which I then taped to the wall where she would no doubt see it.
I initially wanted to say "One more pen gets chewed and somebody's getting stabbed in the eye with it."
As that may have somehow been construed as a bit threatening, I went with a more conservative route.


I then remembered leaving the last note that I thought would bring a halt to the pen chewing, so if that didn't work, this probably won't either.
I need a better plan.

I'm not calling my father devilish in any way (may he rest in peace),
but there is an undeniable mean streak in all of his children.
Yesterday was 6.6.6. and the pen chewing was all it took to send me over the edge. The horns had come out and I was ready to rumble.
Pounding her face into a bloody pulp wasn't gonna do anything but get ME sent to jail, so there's GOT to be a logical way around this.
I talked to a few people, and the wheels started churnin'.

Several people suggested that I dip the pens in jabanero sauce or tabasco of some sort.
That's not gonna work, 'cause my dumb ass will use the pen and then have to rub my eye. Karma folks, let's not do that.
Another person sent me a link to a "stop biting your nails and chewing pens and pencils" thing, but it takes 3-5 months to work, and it costs like $50 and that would significantly cut into my beer money, so that got vetoed.

I called our sales manager around 7:15 and said "Hey, do you mind if I run up to the dollar store really quick?"
Since I got off work at 8, he offered to just let me go home. Thanks for that one Chuck.
Could you have been that cool all the other days I was up here with my head in the trash can puking my last lung up? Whatever.
I hauled ass up to the store and was back at my post by 7:30.

This is what the pen holder in my office looks like on any given ordinary day:




I moved the note with the chewed pen to directly over the coffee mug. I then confiscated every pen in the office (aside from the one on the note) and refilled the mug.
With what you ask? OH yeah.....wait for it.......rawhide dog chewies.
Yup that's right and in case you doubt me, I have the picture to prove it.



I was SO very proud of myself for having averted jail time.
This would be JUST enough to piss her off, but not really bad enough to get me in trouble.
I clocked out and went to the beer store to celebrate.

This morning I wondered and wondered about what snotty face pen chewer must have been thinking.
I could hardly wait to stir the chaos.
No one called me with a report as I had expected until I was in my truck and less than 2 miles from work. I'm glad I heard the phone ring.

"Hello?"
"Hey Shea, it's Steph...I'm just calling to give you a heads up."
I was bouncing with giddiness. I asked her what was going on and she said
"OH, it's piiiiiiiiiiiissed at you...I think it left you a note and I KNOW if you go in there, it's going to do something to make you want to punch it and I REALLY don't want you to go to jail today."
Oh REALLY? It left me a NOTE did it? I knew the bitch didn't have the balls to say shit to my face.
Granted, I didn't really say anything to it's face either, but that was just to be polite and not tell it what I really thought.

I came in the back door as to avoid walking past the switchboard and headed directly to the title department where I knew the people backing me up awaited.
As I entered, they ALL had grins on their faces.
Kim said "I've already got a pen and paper...we're taking bets on who's gonna win and so far NO-body has their money on her."
Damn right they don't.
I used to box, and on top of that if I can take down a 6' 3" Nazi, this bitch doesn't stand a chance.
They all knew something bad was gonna happen if I went into my office before snot face left, so Steph went up to the switchboard to tell it I was going to be late, and that she would relieve it of it's duties until I got there.
It said "NO, I'm staying until 2:30."
The group as a whole decided to send me on errands to the tax office to pick up license plates and such to keep me busy until skankfest got off my switchboard.
Ok, fine.

While on my errands I called the "big dude"....the General Manager.
He had once given me his cell phone number while feeding me Shiner and tequila in case I ever needed bail money or what have you.
He didn't answer so I left him a message. "Hey porkchop (that's what I call him) it's Shea. I need to talk to you when you have a minute."
He had given me the number quite some time ago (although I had it memorized from constantly calling him from the switchboard about stuff) and I'd never called him from my cell phone until now, so I'm sure he knew something was amiss when my number popped up.

I called the switchboard to see if the coast was clear. It answered, I hung up.
I went to see the tattoo girls down the block to kill some time, then called again and Steph answered, so I knew it was relatively safe to go back to work.
When I got there we started looking for "the note".
We only knew about the note because one of the salesmen went to ask skankorama how she was doing today and saw it.
We dug through envelopes and drawers and still came up with nothing. Steph said "Maybe it chickened out and threw it in the trash?"
Possibly, but do you really wanna dig through that shit? Yeah, we do. And we dug. We had almost given up when I saw a green stickey note. I pulled it out.



For those of you who can't decipher skank, here's an interpretation:

"I understand that you seem to have a chewing problem, but could you leave your chew toys at home? Thanks."

Oh, THAT was fuckin' clever. Your sheer genius frightens me.
Not only did she not have the balls to say anything, she didn't even have the balls to leave a godamn sticky note.

A few hours later, the GM called the switchboard. I answered as I am instructed, "Thank you for calling Shit-Hole Chevrolet, this is Shea..."
He said "Hey it's porkchop, I just got your message. Are you in trouble? Do you need money? What's wrong? What can I do for you? Are you ok?"
Alright, "Calm down porkchop, I'm ok."
He continued, "Are you sure you don't need any money? Are you in jail?" No, I'm not in jail, I just answered your phone.
I assured him that everything was under control, but there was a bit of tension at the switchboard which needed to be addressed tomorrow upon his arrival.
I'm smart enough to know I need the big guy on MY side for this one, so I knew I needed to step up first.
Later on our smoke break Steph told me "Ya-know, he's probably going to get on to you for being mean and blah, blah, blah."
I said "Yeah, but not before he laughs about it."

As my day continued I thought "How far should I push this?"
Do I go for the jugular, or do I just prick it in the ribs and let it bleed slowly? 10 minutes before time to clock out, I ran to the porch where some of the salesmen, Steph, and one of the other managers who grew up down the block from me, stood.
I said "Ok, it doesn't know I found the note.
Do I leave the note up there so it knows I found it with an additional note that says 'No honeeeeey, these are for YOU!' or do I take the high road which is absolutely no fun and take the chewies home to my dogs?"
Steph (the angel that she is) said "Alright Shea....look at it this way. If you keep pushing now you look like the instigator, but if you walk away and leave it alone you might have a leg up on the situation."
I said "You're right, but GODAMMIT (as I punched the door) I REALLY wanted to push this one."
The manager gave me a high five after the pain in my hand went away and I went back to my office.

As I was preparing to clock out, Steph came back into my office and said
"Hey, this guy's got a really good idea."
She was referring to one of the salesmen who had been out on the porch during the previous conversation.
This guy is one of those quiet reserved types who has NEVER made eye contact with me while shuffling past my office or EVER had anything to say.
She continued, "He rigged Spoon's chair so that when he sat in it, it flipped the fuck over and he knocked himself out on the filing cabinet."
*Evil Chuckle* Do your work little man.
I watched as he pulled every wheel from the chair and replaced it ever so delicately so that when she sits her fat fuckin' skank ass down, the wheels will buckle from underneath her and plant her face directly into the desk and/or floor.
All I want for Christmas is to see what happens...and I can honestly say "I didnt' do it."

As for the update: It's going down in history as the Skankfest Trilogy.

Why should people follow the golden rule, even if they don't believe in God?

Because "What You Do Comes Back To You!" - It's a natural law, like gravity.

Whatever you give out to others eventually comes back to you. So it's in your own best interest to treat them very well! To a Christian, this process is called "sowing and reaping." Other religions might refer to this as "Karma." Either way, the result is the same: "What you do comes back to you." When you sow good things, a Christian calls this "storing up treasures in Heaven."

You have heard people say, “What goes around, comes around.” But have you given that saying much thought? It is actually a modern way to express ancient wisdom. The Old Testament stated it this way “. . . they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap the same.” (Job 4:8). At least 50 years before the birth of Christ, the Roman statesman, philosopher, and orator, Marcus T. Cicero, said, “As you have sown so shall you reap.” And in the New Testament we find, “…whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7)

The idea that we reap what we sow is more than a cute saying or worthwhile principle. It is an immutable law of nature with as much force as the law of gravity. We ignore this law at our own risk. In ancient times, most people had a clear understanding of the law because of their agrarian experience. By observation they learned the following facts.

1) If you sow wheat, you will reap wheat. If you sow corn, you will reap corn. If you raise cattle, you will reap cattle. If you breed pigs, you will reap pigs. This is the law of like begets like. Pigs do not beget chickens, nor does corn bring forth potatoes.

2) If you sow today, you cannot reap tomorrow. It takes time for your labor to bear fruit.

3) If you sow hundreds of seeds, you will harvest thousands. Your yield will be far greater than you have sown. However, . . .

4) The harvest depends on the soil, or as Christ said, “Behold, a sower went forth to sow. And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up. Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth. And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them. But others fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some a hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.” (Matthew 13:3 – 13-8)

It should be clear from the first fact (like begets like) that if you sow kindness, you will reap kindness, but if you sow prejudice, you will reap prejudice, not understanding. Similarly, sowing hatred will reap hatred, not compassion. This powerful law can help you receive whatever you wish. Do you want to be loved? Obviously, you must first love others. When you do so, they will return love to you. Do you want to make more money? If so, you must first make more money for someone else. It’s only common sense, isn’t it? After all, if you make your employer rich, you will be well rewarded. If not, you can always change jobs and move to a company that will recognize and reward you.

By applying the law of “As Ye Sow, So Shall Ye Reap,” we can gain control of our lives. That is exciting news. But why are so many of us blind to this important law? The reason may be fact #2 (the time delay between sowing and reaping). Because of the gap in time, we fail to see how our actions and their results are connected. When you make a conscious decision to plant a garden in your backyard, the connection between the care you give to the plants and the results you receive is obvious. However, we make countless unconscious decisions every day. For example, when a driver cuts you off on the highway, you immediately become angry. You didn’t plan to get angry. It just happened (because of lack of reflection and lack of self-discipline). Nevertheless, whether you are aware of it or not, you are sowing anger. And the connection of this moment to the anger of others that you will reap in the future is not immediately obvious. For this reason, we need to be aware of our actions and sow only what we wish to reap.

Fact #3 is magical. It states that we will reap more than we sow. Imagine tossing a pebble into the center of a small pond. After the splash, you will see ripples radiating to the edges of the pond. Our actions are like that. When you perform an act of kindness, you do more than make one person happy because invariably, the person you helped will be inspired to help another, who in turn will help still another, and so on. In this way, your act of kindness is multiplied. Similarly, the kindness you reap will be multiplied.

As pointed out in fact #4, the size of our harvest also depends on the soil. Let’s say I’m treating 83-year-old Aunt Millie kindly. But I’m doing so because she is about to die and I want to be included in her will. Although I’m acting kindly, the soil (my intention) is bad. So, instead of reaping kindness, I will become the victim of someone’s greed (just like Aunt Millie). Another example: I may love some people and dislike others. I am, therefore, sowing mixed seeds. Therefore, what I reap will be equally mixed, blessings and suffering.

Did you ever stop in front of a shopwindow to look at your reflection and check your appearance? Well, the world is a mirror, reflecting every act we sow. If you like what you see, congratulations, for you are making valuable contributions to the world. If you don’t like what you see, it simply means there are some changes you have to make. Let’s say I’m finding it impossible to gain the cooperation of the team members at work. I cajoled, begged, threatened, even threw a tantrum, all to no avail. However, after reflecting on the law of sowing and reaping, I realized that I have been sowing negativity and reaping a bountiful harvest of the same. So, it’s time to change. That is, change myself. Since I am seeking the cooperation of others, I decide to focus on how I can cooperate with them, rather than vice versa. What is it that they wish to receive from me? How would they like me to contribute to the team? How can I help? After arriving at some answers, I start helping out without asking for, much less demanding, their support. Lo and behold! Slowly, the team project effortlessly falls into place. Today, we not only work together, but we enjoy doing so! So, now you realize that despite our shirts and ties or fancy dresses, we are farmers, sowing and reaping daily. If we remain aware of what we sow, we won’t be reaping thorns instead of tomatoes, contempt instead of compassion, or pain instead of peace. My final remark is taken from The Koran, “Have you considered what you sow?” [The Event 56.63]

Chuck Gallozzi - email gallozzi@interlog.com

I couldnt find anywhere to go today so I stayed local, I saw a film at my local cinema-The Breakup, with Jennifer Aniston but more important, funny guy, Vince Vaughn
Definitely a chick flick but not too entirely lame. Worth a go see at a matinee- just dont pay full price.

I was so excited about going to see a movie that I rushed to get out of my vehicle only to realize how hot it had gotten as my legs had melted into the leather of the seats-ouch

I went to a local CoCo's for breakfast,mainly cause I couldnt find anything original it was getting late,and I was hungry. The place was filled with geezers this friday morning, so I decided to sit at the counter since I didnt care and my stomach was crying for food- now. As I walked to the counter to sit, A man with a big bald circle in the middle of his head, stared at me while stirring his coffee so hard, I thought the cup was going break, though I didnt make eye contact with my new fan-I could tell out of the corner of my eye that he was smiling. Gross.
If you are that interested, pay for my breakfast. I guess he wasnt THAT interested as I was handed the bill by the waitress

One more day of vacation (Monday) to go.Im going to my friend's child's birthday party tomorrow- in the Los Angeles area
I had 2 dozen special decorated sugar cookies in the shape of dinosaurs made and sent to him by a coworker who does the cookie/bakery thing on the side...I hope he got them by now. Cost-$60.00 Calories-priceless

Monday I guess I will go do somewhere cheap. That means staying around here-maybe hunt a thrift shop or two for treasures I dont need. Visit a local animal shelter-since I prefer the company of 4 legged furry animals then the non furry animals that walk upright.
Which reminds me:
I actually saw and scared 3 little lizards at my apartment complex-AKA The Wild Kingdom Estates- But who scared whom? I almost freaked when I saw one of them move into a shady garage then 2 more of these miny dragons made a dash for the garages they were near when they heard my giant footsteps.

Amazing how much fun you can find to do in your own town or near it. Hey, Im a single gal with no money,Im going thru a breakup and I need to distract my mind,I also want to feel as though I did something for 5 days... Its not Jamaica but its free

I went to Huntington Beach today,I have always wanted to go there, I never lived far from there,ever, yet I have never explored Surf City.
I sort of planned out what I would do,in other words, I looked on the Internet, briefly last night for what looked interesting to me. Of course I wrote the directions ass backwards-left turns should have been right turns etc.

I finally made it to a little cafe this morning (1 hour later than usual,because of my wise old fucked up directions) for the usual breakfast stop that I make and it was one of the nicest Ive been to: Alices Breakfast In The Park. The restaurant is very quaint,looks like grandmas house when you walk in with lots of antiques and doilies everywhere, the sweet little cottage sits smack in the middle of a park near a lake. There were zillions of ducks that sat near the entrance with their heads tucked into their bodies.I guess thats how they sleep-cute as hell.
So many Squirrels,birds and other assorted creatures ran around the little lakefront restaurant, you were afraid you were going to step on one-also cute as hell.
Adorable little place..you got the feeling that the witch would push you into the oven. And Im jewish, so that really scared me.
There were tables outside so you could enjoy the view while you ate. I was just afraid I would get shit on by one of the overhead birds or a hungry goose would grab my plate, so I ate my french toast inside but near a big window. Ummm, your choice of homemade breads for the french toast.

After breakfast, I had to scare some of the livestock near the restaurant by taking pictures with my cell phone camera. I could hear them mock me. "Here comes a fucking tourist with her camera-RUN so she cant get a picture" They probably gossiped about me after I left.

Then I drove to the stables. Oh I had big plans to go Horsey-back riding! I found a nearby stable that rents horses-the only thing left was to find out how much it would cost for an hour of great fun. I parked my car near some of those big beautiful animals, I said hello to one of them-what did I expect, that he would say hi back like he was Mr Ed or something?
I walked into the office and asked how much to ride for an hour
So the willowy blonde goddess who doesnt have to wear makeup and whos dad probably owns this huge stable and 5 others, replies
"50 dollars for one hour" then she bubbled all over me(I think she got some on her size 2 shirt) "its great fun"

Did I mention in the beginning of this blog entry that I had no money? I think 50 dollars is all I have for 5 days.

I couldnt help but wonder, what would Matt Dillion say if he knew that in 2006 a rental of a horse for an hour of horseback riding would go for 50 bucks?

After I slunk out of there all depressed, I took a tour of the local Dog Park (My favorite F word...free)
I had a good time loving up all the dogs that werent mine.
I met a nice little wiener dog and a golden retriever puppy, who, by the way, was as big as an SUV, a couple of pitbull mixes-friendly sweeties and the mixed lab pup who took a drink of water then splashed his paws in it-as if to say, "The ground is hot and I need some shoes,but cold water will do for now"....none of them cared that I had no money,my hair was messed up and I looked fat.

I stayed a bit longer then left when it was getting quite obvious that I had no animal with me, I looked like the dog stalker.

I drove on to the Huntington Pier on Pacific Coast Hwy. This time I turned left when my directions specifically told me to turn right. Using this method, I got to my destination in no time flat. smart
There were a lot of people there for a thursday-maybe kids were out of school-or like me, on vacation, man.
I saw a soaking wet older dude(about 60ish) emerge from the water and out of the beach with a surf board under his arm-cool
Mostly just kids about 16 or so. Some families with small children

I got a bug up my ass to cut my hair. I drove to Costa Mesa looking for a SuperCuts
I saw a Beauty shop went inside and asked the employee if there was any place around town to get a cheap haircut. She replied "two doors down-they do good work and they are inexpensive for a cut"
So I went two doors down and told the girl at the front that I just wanted a trim-so she calls over one of the haircutters who didnt speak a word of Damn english and told her what I requested, in spanish.
Oh hell, I thought,Im totally at this cutters mexican mercy,
what if she told her to cut my hair like a Chicken or like Simba in Lion King then dye it green, what a way to get back at the Gringo for the Border/Illegal Alien Issue.
Actually, me and my hair walked out just fine. There were just a few too many frills at the ends for me-much like a mexican wedding costume but it only cost 25 dinero

I decided to celebrate by washing the bird shit off my car-I dont think shes seen water in about 3 weeks.

So now Im home, blogging. Maybe Balboa Island or San Onofre tomorrow.