Dear Uterus,
Fuck off and die.
Love,
Congodwarf
Dear Middlebro:
It is bad enough that Mom wants me to sell my flat in order to buy her a vacation home, I do not need YOU wanting me to sell the flat and move to where y’all live (a town that’s never been “home” to me) so I can be available to pick your kids up from school, have Mom drop in on me whenever she feels like it and come play untrained peon in your housefixing projects - even when the project in question is something at which I am better than you.
I happen to like this house, you MORON!
Damn, I needed that.
Why the hell would your mother think you’d want to sell your home to buy her a vacation home? Does she always have entitlement issues or did you give her a reason to think that buying her a vacation house is something you’d like to do?
If entitlement and irrationality were wings, she’d be a 747.
The vacation home is the apartment at the beach that she was not able to extract from Dad in 35 years of marriage. Like him, I like the sea, but the part that’s all wet. The beach is merely a necessity of physics, the boundary between the land (which is interesting) and the sea (which is superneat) where other people play shrimp-on-the-hot-plate.
Hey Chimera, it sounds like your kitty is having some major constipation issues. The idea of putting petroleum jelly on her paw is good. You could also give her several capsules of fish oil, as she’ll enjoy the taste, and it will help smooth things out.
Another suggestion, which will take time, supplies, and a lot of bravery:
Go to the drug store and buy an enema kit and some glycerin. Kitty’s problem is that the stuff in her large intestine is dried up, and there’s no moisture to move it along. Get a good friend (provide beer later) to wrap kitty in a towel. Mix saline and glycerine in the enema kit, lube up kitty’s end passage way, and give her a small amount of warm enema. I’m thinking a quarter of a cup of less.
The saline should be absorbed by the mass, the glycerin will smooth things out and calm down her poor abused bowel, and some extra petroleum jelly on the exit will help her pass things more effectively.
You may need to repeat a couple times in a day. Also, try to get her to drink as much water as you can, as the GI tract needs hydration to move things along.
If any blood appears or that doesn’t help, it’s definitely time for the vet. I do believe the reason she’s peeing outside the litter box is because trying to pass the stuff in her bowel hurts so much, she’s avoiding the location where she’s felt the pain. In the future, brush her more often, and give her peanut butter mixed with oil or a commercial hairball product that coats the hairball and greases it through the system.
SNOW???
I guess I should expect it, and at least it’s not sticking, but it’s a damn white out right now!
It won’t rot - but it might outlive you, petroleum products not being known for their ability to biodegrade. And anyway, it’s good if you get cracked heels in the wintertime…
Do you have a way to take your cat’s temperature? (A fever would indicate a need to suck it up and go to the vet anyway.)
New rant:
Three days subbing for 6th grade drama - the most redundant class name ever. I would like to distribute clues to those concerned.
To whomever put the class in the aerobics classroom: you suck and should have flesh eating worms put in your ears and your ears taped over. Why? Because that’s exactly what it felt like with 45 children in a room covered in nothing but hard, sound reflective surfaces. I was astonished I didn’t get a migraine until the third day. Also, “Ice Age” is not an appropriate setting for the HVAC in that room. Not only is it a waste of precious energy, but I was freezing and had a killer non-migraine headache every single day. When I get into my 110 degree car and leave the AC off and the windows up for the entire 25 minutes drive home just so I can warm up, there is something very wrong.
To the child with the cellphone: do not cry at me when I confiscate your cell phone. Especially do not try your bullshit “but it was out because my shorts don’t have pockets” line on me, when you have a backpack, and you know the rules. When one of your neighbors says “dude, don’t text during the movie!” take a hint. Sobbing incoherently that you need your phone just makes me want to go Darth Vader on your ass. I’m sorry your father is going to kill you when he finds out that he will need to speak to the VP to get your phone back. (No, wait, I’m not sorry. Dad, kill away. You have my full support.) Telling me you weren’t texting and showing me your phone’s CALL LOG just tells me you think I’m an idiot. I know the difference between calls and texts. And yes, I specifically put your name in the notes to the regular teacher. [In seven years of teaching full, part, and subbing, he is the second student I have ever made cry. I feel no remorse at all.]
To the person who kept locking the faculty bathroom: FUCK YOU. Subs don’t get keys, yet, we still have bladders and bowels which need occasional voiding. The sign on the student locker room specifically says “under 18 only” and believe it or not, I actually follow posted rules. So, every single time I had to use the bathroom, I had to find the very nice lady - who turned out to be a VP, and I try very hard not to bother the VP - to unlock the friggin’ bathroom for me. I hope your bowels explode and you wet your pants.
To the goddamn butthumping Munchkins: I like the Wizard of Oz. It used to be one of my favorite movies to watch. Having now seen it five times in two days with constant snickering and giggling by a bunch or hormone addled 11 year olds, I cannot close my eyes without hearing falsetto singing about how wonderful it is the witch is dead. I hope she reforms during the next heavy dew and eats your entrails while you are still alive.
Anti-rant: To the lovely vice-principal lady with the British accent who unlocked the faculty restroom for me: I love you. When you brought back the two boys I kicked out for being complete snots and said, “I’m returning these reprobates to you. I’ve spoken to them. They will behave,” in your inimitable British manner, I wanted to kiss you. You are awesome.
On another topic:
Dad: I realize you have this idea of who you are, and that as a morally righteous, upstanding man, you could not possibly have a problem with alcohol. However, when the doctor asks you how much you drink, the answer of “oh, maybe one glass of wine in the evening” is so ridiculously transparent, Mom has to step in with “Or two. Or three. Or four. Or the whole bottle.”
You do NOT get to be mad at her because a) she’s underestimating, and b) she understands that alcohol, being a drug metabolized by the liver, might interfere or change the way your body responds to your FIVE FUCKING DIFFERENT HYPERTENSION MEDICATIONS. You know, the drugs that keep your blood vessels from exploding and launching shrapnel into Low Earth Orbit.
Yeah, and it was really pleasant telling my mom that not only are you polishing off a bottle of wine every other day or more, but that you’ve also gone through four bottles of amaretto in a month, and half a bottle of 155 proof rum in a couple of weeks. Mom’s all for pouring out all the alcohol, and I’m happy to help. Learning to refer to my own father as an alcoholic when I’m 39 years old sucks crusty elephant balls.
To myself: get your pasty ass out to the garden and take care of it the way you planned when you started this whole thing. The reason more than half your seeds did not germinate is because you didn’t prepare the soil well enough. Yes, you’re broke and can’t buy all the cool gardening gizmos you like. No, you haven’t found a way to haul compost or mulch in. But you have a brain, you have muscles, and you need the physical exercise. So get FUCKING BUSY.
Don’t beat yourself up, phouka. The seeds might not have come up because they were eaten by birds, or - if your garden is anything like mine - they might have sprouted and promptly been mowed down by pillbugs and snails. Even plants that aren’t normally bothered by bugs are pretty tender and tasty as newly-sprouted seedlings.
That said, get yer ass outside.
WTF is Wendy Williams? Did she used to be a man? Is she deaf? How many people turned GSN down before they got to the bottom of the list she must have been on? Is Carrot Top dead?
You know, back when Baggage premiered, I honestly thought the state of the game show couldn’t possibly get any lower. Then Love Triangle premiered.
In answer to your question, I’ve made a provisional decision that she is actually a cis-woman. Only after careful observation and research, however. My first impression was “drag queen”, actually.
Plus, she says “How you doin’?” waaaay too much. More than anyone on this board even!
Can we get a fucking Sticky at the top of every forum that states:
THE WORD IS SPELLED “PAID” NOT “PAYED”
A note to those that use that spelling - I will immediately disregard any post by you, even if it is a nuanced and well-researched text on the topic at hand.
That is all.
Never mind…I apparently forgot my grasp of the English language for a second…
Hmmm. Funny; not really my style. I’m thinking more along the lines of:
You: *How did you know that? *
Me: Because I’m smart.
I want to watch Rachel Maddow and I fucking don’t give a fuck about the wedding of Will and Kate. Please have a happy, beautiful life and fucking now get the fuck off the godsdamned tv so i can finish watching news.
I’m a runner, and as happens with many runners, occasionally my big toenails turn black and fall off. They grow back after a month or two. This has been going on for several years. In fact, my right big toenail has been gone for a month.
The problem is the left one. It didn’t have the common decency to turn completely black—all but the right quarter inch turned black. This meant that as it grew out, most of the nail detached itself, hanging on by a quarter-inch strip of flesh on the right side. I finally had to whittle the rest of the nail down, lest I catch it on the hem of a pair if jeans. Now I have this funny sliver of toenail, firmly attached on one side of the toe.
If you are the sort of gardener that I am, you should stay inside and post your wonderful rants to the dope.
I wanted to grow catnip. Its a mint, and from what I have heard, its basically a weed. I tried scattering seeds around and watering. No joy. I tried starting it inside and then transplanting to pretty redwood planters. Did you know that redwood planters kill that sort of stuff? I didn’t either. I bought live plants and planted them in places in my yard that the books said would be favorable. Nope. I finally got one to grow next to my rosemary bush. I was soooo happy, but then my dog thought that would be a good place to nap and the catnip couldn’t survive a St Bernard curling and laying on it.
Finally, I managed to get a good patch going. My own kitty opium den 
All the cats in the neighborhood loved it. I put sticks in the ground so they couldn’t lay on it and kill it. My cats LOVED the fresh flowers. I gave it to friends.
One day, I hired the neighbor kids to knock the weeds down. I was sitting inside, smelling catnip when suddenly I realized what was happening. When I ran outside, they had taken it to the ground. I asked about the sticks and they told me that they had wondered why it was so hard to weedwack it :smack:
Another time, I was in West Virginia and admired some succulents. Wonderful big green leaves with big bright red flowers. I took some cuttings and brought them home. There is a big difference between WV and Arizona, so I knew to baby them. They didn’t thrive at first, but I kept at it until I was able to get little washed out leaves and small flowers. I was so proud. I went out and took pics to send to everyone to brag, left the gate unlatched and the javalina got in and ate them all.
My yard now is 3 tons of riverrock.
You realize that you’re just asking for a flash flood, don’t you?
Oops. Sorry. That was because of Chimera posting his evil suggestion. Which I loved.
The other one I like to use is:
You: *How did you know that? *
Me: I read it in a book.