Concerns of the Season

So I've been obsessively pondering so very "earth shattering life altering" things....well, not really, but the mind does drift to the below items:

1. Captain Nutty is currently coming off the goofballs. Withdrawal sucks and we all know that but....what effect does this have on my Christmas intake?

2. Captain Nutty is currentloy coming off the goofballs.....and she comes to visit in 4 days. Me thinks it's time for Floyd to up her intake of her own goofballs.

3. So I told the Consort (Captain Nutty's husband) to "don't buy me any presents, just pay my car payment this month".....surely he wouldn't take me seriously?

4. My cat has started to masturbate. Truly. The cat has consistently woken me up every night this week humping my leg. Yep. The CAT. Seriously concerned....and perhaps just a tad aroused.

5. Do creditors rue the day caller ID was invented? Is Chase named "chase" because they chase your ass down for their money? How many times do they have to call before they figure out that you ain't answering the damn phone?

6. I owe the POD $60 in back allowance. Surely, she doesn't know how to report to credit bureaus? Right?

7. I read a note that a friend of POD's gave her (don't judge me! it was sitting on the counter - fair game!). It speaks of the POD picturing her boyfriend "giving it to her beautifully". I'm sure he's speaking of a nicely wrapped and age appropriate Christmas gift. Right? RIGHT?

8. This country still supports forced sterilization. Right? RIGHT?

9. Since it's the holiday season, I think I can consistently begin drinking at 10 am without much fear of reprisal or forced institutionalization. Who are we kidding? Some time in rehab might be a lovely vacation.....of course, unless they sent Captain Nutty with me.

10. Okay, riddle me this - I drink, I get drunk and my nose turns bright red. Rudolph? Reddest damn nose known to man. But not only does no one call him an alcoholic, they even let the little fucker drive! Fair? I think not.

I've Got Your Roasting Chestnuts Right Here*

*Alternative titles: "I'm Going To Shove That Mistletoe Up
Your Ass" or "Nobody Puts Out A Little Kettle And Rings A Bell For Me"

Yes, I'm here and No, I don't want to talk about it. I will ignore my abscence and present what I hope to become an annual tradition....


Things Floyd Really Hates About Christmas

1. Family coming to visit

2. Family coming to visit and having to talk to them

3. Family coming to visit while you have no money and are trying to sell your house and have to talk to them about having no money and trying to sell your house

4. Leaving with said visiting family to go visit more fucking family

5. Visiting said more fucking family and having to sleep on fold-out cot at foot of parents' bed

6. Being 35 years old, rather wide in stature and having to sleep on said fold-out cot

7. Knowing in advance that Captain Nutty will completely disregard ALL of the things mentioned that I want for Christmas and will buy whatever suits her whimsy (here's a hint - Captain Nutty asked "Have you been by Lane Bryant lately?" - and for the record, nothing against Laney but I have not yet reached that proportion yet)

8. Preparing for the POD to be all wonky during said visit with said fucking family and then having to constantly discuss the status of POD's mental health (but who can really blame her - Floyd wishes she could act up as well)

9. Trying to figure out the proper ratio of how many drinks I can have to make Christmas Eve tolerable in proportion to how many drinks I can have to not throw up on Christman morning

10. Having to fake smile my way through this whole crap-a-rama....bah humbug.

Next post: What Floyd Loves About Christmas (might be a short one)

Sausage In Your Stuffing? Just Say No

*Am I the only who giggles upon reading "sausage in your stuffing? I hear Beavis laughing every time.

So it's the Saturday after Thanksgiving and I'm working due to my "absolutely will not work on Friday after Thanksgiving"....that'll learn 'em.

I have visited the office bathroom a grand total of 4 times due to some mild intestinal distress. FOUR TIMES! IN TWO HOURS! I'm rather proud. Since I cooked Thanksgiving dinner, I hope I haven't killed anyone.

Turkeys are supposed to bleed a little bit when you cut into them, right? Right?

Soooooo....yeah....no more sausage in my stuffing (Beavis: "huh...huh....she said "sausage").

More than you wanted to know? Perhaps. More than I felt like sharing? Not so much.

Happy Trichonosis to all!

Stuff THAT In Your Turkey

So maybe I'm a little thankful but perhaps I'm not really thankful for anything and those who think I should be can kiss my cranberry-hating ass.

I'm thankful that I have clients BUT...

I'm not thankful that my last client wanted to know if she could put off her appointment because she had a mystery shopping gig at Hooter's....I kid you not, people. I was beat out by a pair of oversized mammary glands and a chick in panty hose and shorts.

I'm not thankful for the client who just called and asked my legal assistant if I was expecting her to bring in any money for her appointment. Of course not! How silly! I work for free! Keep your money! My mortgage company HATES getting paid on time!

I'm not thankful for the client's psycho wife who called me five times last night on my cell phone. Hey, bitch, I DON'T REPRESENT YOU! And here's a suggestion....when you fax me, you can fax me the whole document, you DO NOT have to fax it one page at at time, you flaming moron!

I am thankful for the POD...BUT.....

I'm not thankful for her little friends who show up in the driveway at 1 am to drop off a porn movie for POD. And yes, it was a "chick flick".

I'm not thankful for her inviting some little friends into the house while I'm not home to do god knows what. I'm fitting her with a chastity belt as we speak.

I am thankful for family....BUT....

Okay, I simply take that one back - not thankful at all. I would like to move to an isolated cabin in Idaho and do my best Unabomber impression.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Have You Ever?

As usual, my lame ass writing technique comes to the rescue of yet another lame ass post. But I suppose lame ass is better than no ass post...

Soooooo....HAVE YOU EVER...

- scratched your ass crack a tad too aggressively and caused some sort of skin separating injury in your cavern?

- decided that if your own personal Captain Nutty NEVER EVER came to see you again, that it still wouldn't be enough to make up for the times she DID visit?

- thought that if you moved out to the boondocks, you would be attacked by lumberjack, flannel loving rednecks with dubious tooth counts and wouldn't be able to find a bar that didn't play country music?

- felt like telling POD's teachers to kiss your dimpled ass and that the daily phone calls reporting her "lack of particpation" are getting to be a bit much? (Here's a hint - YOU'RE THE FUCKING TEACHERS! I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO! YOU'VE GOT A FUCKING DEGREE - USE IT!)

- been on your way to court to represent a drunken stripper for her d.u.i. and had to stop at the local Hardee's for an intestinal emergency?

- after visiting said Hardee's felt really bad cause you knew that what you did to that bathroom was going to cause some minimum wage Hardee's employee to have a really, really bad day?

- wanted to tell the POD that "sure, your guy friends can spend the night" cause they're ALL gay?

- thought that if you were in court nearly as much as you lead your clients to believe, that you might actually be half the attorney they seem to think you are?

- wondered if they could actually arrest you for malpractice? (Now for all my clients who are reading this - don't panic - I'm not committing malpractice - I just tend to freak over some things BUT NOT YOUR CASE - YOUR CASE IS FINE!!!)

- missed Macek really, really bad and worry that the last thing you told him was that you pissed in Lake Lanier?

- wondered if the stretch marks on your ass would eventually join together to make some sort of pattern that you could pass off as an art deco tattoo?

- thought that beer can make everything alright but if it doesn't, you'll be too drunk to give a shit?

- thought "gee, I have nothing cohesive to blog about" but then patted yourself on the back for using the word "cohesive" in your own head?

- wondered if Captain Nutty found your vibrator while snooping through your dresser?

- hoped Captain Nutty found your vibrator while snooping through your dresser? Such a find will send her to church at least 4 days a week to pray for my depraved soul.

- thought that stringing together a bunch of paranoid ramblings might spark the old creative juices?

- chuckled upon hearing "creative juices" and said in your best Beavis and Butthead voice "huh...huh...she said JUICES"?

Ummmm.....yeah....me neither.

Permanent Damage?

So I survived CAPTAIN NUTTY '05 but just barely. Thought I had made it through relatively unscathed until last night.

I'm sound asleep. As far as I can tell, not really dreaming. Suddenly, I'm wide awake and one word comes into my head.

Let me clarify - no images, no sounds, just one word. One word that now has me questioning my sanity because no one really just out of the blue thinks of this word without any type of context. And as far as I can remember, there was NO context.

What word you may ask?

LABIA.

That's right LABIA. I wake up in the middle of the night with a part of the female genitalia on my mind. (And no, NONE of you should google "labia" right now - trust me).

So what the hell does this mean? Who does this? What sort of damage has been done that makes me think of that word in the middle of the night? Couldn't it at least have been "van defrens" or something masculine? Like gonad? Or taint? Or nutsack? Or ballcheese?

NOOOOOOO - IT HAD TO LABIA!

Will now be upping the nightly Tylenol PM intake to 2 tablets every night.

Help Me, Pfizer! I Need You!*

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Sybil's Got Nothing On Me

So I'm not really ignoring you....I can explain. Captain Nutty is visiting. She swooped into town with the Consort and here she sits (the Consort's visit was just a drive-by - he's already back in Chicago).

I would like to be able to explain a little more clearly what this really means but in true Floyd fashion, I feel compelled to make a numbered list to give you a "feel" (or reach-around as the case may be):

1. I have yet to have a conversation with her that didn't end with her crying.

2. Trying to check my messages while I was out of my home office, I called the "don't ever touch this phone because it is my business phone". Captain Nutty answered with a "Hi baby!". Uber-professional.

3. At the all important parent/teacher conference today with ALL of the POD's teachers, Captain Nutty asked the VERY relevant question...."you do like her, don't you? you think she's okay?". Yep...cause these folks really, really want in on our family dynamic and the fact that the POD seems incapable of doing her homework is somehow tied into whether they like her or not.

4. After asking the above question of these teaching professionals, Captain Nutty promptly burst into tears.

5. After eating half a bowl of soup, Captain Nutty started in on the whole "i'm sooooo full, just stuffed! couldn't eat another bite" while I'm sitting across from her inhaling every last drop as if it's the last supper. Next time, I'm going to ask her to just call me fat and get it over with.

6. As of 5:09 p.m. today, Captain Nutty has asked me exactly 84 times if I think the POD is okay. (Apparently the teachers' opinions weren't enough).

7. When she's not asking about the POD's sanity, she's asking about my budget and "exactly how much money do I need" (let's be clear - she doesn't have the money to help but somehow just NEEDS to know). Not a bad question but considering it's been asked and answered about 9 times, it's starting to wear thin.

8. When not worried about the POD, we must worry about her upcoming knee replacement surgery and what I will do if "she doesn't make it". And then she cries again. And no, I haven't REALLY answered that question....it's a no winner.

9. I have been asked 13 times if I am on some type of medication and when I answer "no", I get "well, shouldn't you be?"

10. Her nerves had her so rattled that she threw up in the Super Target bathroom. SUPER TARGET! MY ALL TIME FAVORITE PLACE! WHO THROWS UP IF YOU'RE NOT EVEN DRINKING? WHAT MUST THE SUPER TARGET ASSOCIATES THINK?

I'm going to the Atlanta race this weekend and my mother will wrap up the 10th day of her soul-destroying visit at that time. I hope to be able to recover enough to be funny again one day but who's to say.....who's to say, my friends.

Cultural Sensitivity Starts At Home

So the POD and I are watching Gilmore Girls when there is a scene involving the slightly prissy conceirge. Thus the following exchange:

POD: "Soooo, he's gay, right?"

Floyd: "No, he's French."

POD: "Oh....I see."

That's me....Floyd....doing just a little something to ease world tension. Vive Le France!

Oh, My Aching Balls

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A Tuesday Manifesto

I do hereby proclaim the following to be the tenets upon which I base my moral certainty:

I believe that whoever decided all fat people were tall and therefore made all fat jeans an entire 12 inches too long for the vertically challenged but horizontally endowed should be hung up by his pubic hairs and the object of much ridicule for his fat but woefully short penis. How's them apples, asswipe.

I believe that the Governor of Georgia should be horsewhipped for declaring two days off of school for an anticipated but not occuring gas shortage.

I believe the POD's school should be reduced to rubble for not following such boneheaded edict and forcing me to rise at 6 am in order to cart the POD to the only school open in this damn state.

I belive that if you are stupid, I should be able to charge you double for all legal work and still be able to call you names behind your back. If you let me call you names to your face, I will charge three times as much cause you're probably too stupid to know that three is more than two.

I believe that if a woman is to be President of these here United States, she should not have horse teeth and she most certainly should not be 7 feet tall and look like Geena Davis (who if you notice, doesn't even know how to spell the name Gina correctly).

I believe that if you are my client and you call me on my cell phone more than once a month, I have the right to intentionally throw your case and send your statutory rapist kid to jail. (And guess what, moron? By saying you had sex with 12 year old, you're already guilty - the fact that she recanted don't mean diddly, dumbass)

I believe that even though the world at large believes Captain Nutty's nuttiness will be cured through via a knee replacement, I know better. I know the nuttiness shall continue to bloom and blossom until eventually she puts either POD or me up in a bell tower with an automatic rifle.

I believe that if the POD doesn't learn her basic Biology facts that I will staple her damn flashcards to the back of her hands.

I believe that if the POD utters the word "whatever" one more time, I will staple things to her regardless of her knowledge of Biology.

I believe it should NOT be 85 freaking degrees in the last week of September.

I believe I will wear my boots even though my ankles are sweating cause I can make fall come if I try hard enough.

I believe in slapping other people's children - especially in grocery stores.

I beleive I should stop writing this before I burst a blood vessel in my head.

Okay, I feel better now.

*Tap, Tap*....Is This Thing On?

Okay, I'm here. Still kicking. Didn't mean to ignore you my precious, precious gentle readers but life has been moving.

Probably shouldn't bore you with all the gory details but here are the highlights -

1. Floyd 1, Crack Whores 0
Dear Crack Whore,

I'm your Baby's Daddy's Attorney or as you like to call me "that white bitch trying to take your baby". Well, guess what? This white bitch won and despite your efforts to drag this all the way to the Supreme Court, you got the smack down. Despite your attempts to portray my client the MINISTER as a convicted murderer, the judge STILL thought your kid was better off with him then with your skanked out ass. So wail and moan all you want but if this white bitch had her way, I would be taking your other kids from you as well.

Sincerely,
Superlitigator Floyd

2. POD Patrol
The POD has decided that Biology is not necessary information for her in this world (and no, don't ask me what this means in regards to the reproduction section - I'm lobbying congress for forced contraception any day now). POD has failed to fully conceptualize that the failure of Biology means NO LEAD IN SCHOOL PLAY which makes Floyd fairly spastic with worry. So many, many tv hours have been devoted to harassing the POD about her study habits. And for those of you aware of the fact that I failed Biology in my day, you are correct in assuming that this is a case of the blind leading the blind - or the cranky leading the chronically pessimistic.

3. Speaking of Blind
My dog, Ben, is now fully blind. This really has nothing to do with anything but thought you should know. And despite the sadness, it's kinda funny. He hears himself break wind and assumes we are under attack - therefore, the fury of the blind hellhound is unleashed until some savory snack is waived beneath his snout to draw his attention back to the important things like his stomach.

4. How do you say "drunk" in Spanish?
I have found a way to solicit all the folks charged with dui over the weekend in a particular county. Well, this particular county happens to have a large spanish community and boy, according to the records, they must enjoy their tequilla (and really, who can blame them for that?). So far, my dui representation consists of illegal immigrants and drunken strippers. Not a bad start...not a bad start at all.

5. My lover, the television
Did anyone see the season premier of Two and Half Men? The relationship between Charlie and his nephew is like me and the POD .... except with much less screaming and worshipping of the devil.

Did anyone see the season ender of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? Laughed so hard I scared the blind dog (see above).

Did anyone see Invasion? So freaking stupid I kicked the blind dog.

Did anyone see My Name is Earl? Loved it - even Daddy loved it and he don't do sitcoms - he's much more of a History Channel kinda guy.

Did anyone see J.D win on Rockstar: INXS? Morons. Like Marty better but assuming he will be rocking it single style better anyway.

6. Family Reunion

Went to Captain Nutty's family reunion over the weekend - without Captain Nutty of course who by the way just got off the phone with me crying because she can't remember what drug it is that she is allergic to (Morphine, you twit). Anyhoooo, let me summarize the reunion for you - I have aunts and uncles by the name of Seymour, Geraldine, Herman and Mannetta. I have a great aunt who's ass is so wide that she has to go through a door sideways - not even kidding. Haven't seen these people in about 14 years and frankly, I expected a big, big reaction. What did I get? "Oh hey". Yeah, apparently I'm not the glue that holds that family together even though I thought I was fucking crazy glue. Apparently, only the crazy part applies.

Anyway, you can see gentle readers why I've been so absent. I once again beg your forgiveness and promise to be better.

As Al Capone Laughs

In the comments to my last post, Cowboy Dan brought up an excelent point...what about Geraldo? Thanks for the reminder, Cowboy old buddy! So in continuation of my media theme this week, I would like to discuss my fascination and befuddlement of the one they call Geraldo (please note: every time you read his name, please hear some sort of theatrical "dum dum" music like they have at the beginning of Law & Order )

I would like to nominate Geraldo (dum dum!) as the celebrity whose countenance most lends itself to muppet mimicry. I can so see Ernie and Bert having a chat with a muppet Geraldo(dum dum!) - what with the bulbous nose and the rich, flowing mane of hair.

I've heard Geraldo (dum dum!) has his own personal moto - where there is misery and drama, I will be there! I caught Geraldo's riveting coverage last friday night outside of the convention center where he was in such a frenzy I believe I saw a little spittle fly out of from underneath his mucho macho mustachio. What a man.

He was just a railing away at Bill O'Reilly and saying "I don't know what's going to happen when it gets dark, Bill!" Hey, Geraldo, I'll tell you what will happen - it will get dark, you jackass.

Bill asked if he was safe and in answer the camera panned out and showed that Geraldo(dum dum!) had made himself a nice safe little spot with which to film from. He was surrounded by no less than 6 policemen/national guardsmen.....cause those folks weren't needed anywhere else at the time. Geraldo was numero uno priority. Where the muppet goes, trouble will follow so you must ensure his safety at all costs.

Geraldo(dum dum!) then grabbed himself some little black babies and cuddled them up to his mucho macho mustachio and which point one of the babies reared back in fear of the giant tarantula-like thing threatening it. I would have given a cool million for that baby to have grabbed a few nostril hairs and give a firm yank at that moment but alas, said baby was also in shock and awe at his blatant grandstanding to act appropriately.

And through this whole thing, Geraldo (dum dum!) managed to keep his lion's mane of hair just perfect. He looked better than Diane Sawyer or even Oprah who had to satisfy herself with a ponytail to look tv presentable. But not Geraldo! He clearly had brought Jose Eber (hairstylist to the stars) with him cause he knows the secret to good journalism - look good and people will believe your bullshit.

And fashion wise? Why he looked down right saucy! He had his dark tshirt tucked tightly in to his high-waisted jeans for a look that says "I'm in mourning but I still love my Calvins".

If there is any justice in the world (and I think we all know there is not), one of those random Gators that I just know are roaming freely throughout the flood waters will bite Geraldo right in his chimmichanga and he'll suddenly have a little "growing" room in his groin area.

One can dream, one can dream.

Katrina, You Bitch

So nearly everyone in blogworld has posted about Hurricane Katrina. And let me start by saying that my little pea brain can't wrap itself around the devastation, the loss of life and the poor rescue response. There are one million places you can go to donate on the interent and another cool million where people much more eloquent than myself can wax poetic about the tragedy.

That being said...I have a few points that I would like to make but please don't take me that seriously. These certainly aren't the big issues but just some minor annoyances to me who has no room to complain. I deal with bad shit with low class humor - trust me, I'm a real ball at a funeral.

1. So I'm watching local news last week right after the hurrincane and the weather guy comes on and goes, "Will the Atlanta area feel the effects of Hurrican Katrina? Stay tuned to find out!".

In what world is it appropriate that the weather forecast has become a cliffhanger? Is this really an area of the news that you should tease people with? Especially considering the weather just did huge old bitch slap on the south? Am I supposed to wait through maxipad commercials to find out if I am in any kind of danger? There are people in Louisiana floating on roofs and somehow the news guy thinks a little teaser is just what I need to make me not switch over to the King of the Hill. He was wrong.

2. Oprah went down to New Orleans and then to Houston to meet with survivors. I was all behind it - all about Oprah going down and helping out the folks cause I mean, hell, she's OPRAH! Should could probably raise that city from the ruins by her own self! All was well and good until the end when Oprah's chatting with a survivor and asks her about her family.

Survivor woman says "I don't know where they are, they were sent to different cities. And if someone could just tell them I'm okay or if I could finde them...".

Oprah says, "well, where are they?"

Woman names some other cities and then Oprah goes, "Well, I have a surprise for you - THEY'RE RIGHT HERE!" Enter lost family stage left and a lovely, screaming reunion takes place.

Now, let me be clear, I have no problem with Oprah doing a reunion but is now the proper time for a little theatrical setup? Do we not think it was dramatic enough without having Oprah to build it up for us? Hasn't this woman had enough surprises for the week? Just tell the woman you found her lost family and let it alone. As far as I'm concerned, Oprah put that woman through about 4 more minutes of agony and franky, I think she had been through enough.

Oprah done lost her some props from me for that one.

I Fell In Love This Weekend

That's right, gentle readers, IN LOVE.....with the television show 24. And for those who clicked on this thinking to find some sappy "fatgal meets emotionally available, six pack ab guy who swoons at her humor and wit to such extent he overlooks her back boobies and surface of the moon thighs and swears his total devotion" story, you are at the wrong damn blog and frankly, you should have known better.

After recovering from a near life ending hangover of vast proportions on Friday, I rebounded over the weekend to discover that A&E was playing the last season of 24 in an awe-inspiring marathon. Now, I'd heard the hub-bub over this little tv gem but frankly during the season, I could never follow it due to other "outside the house and off my couch" obligations - miss one episode and you were shit out of luck. But apparently, since I'm dirt poor now, I can devote 24 hours of my labor day weekend to intrigue and Jack Bauer. Loved it. Loved it to the negligence of POD duties. Loved it to the negligence of racing duties and Kitty hand-holding.

This of course reignited my eternal passion for my favorite thing in the world - television. Alas, I had forgotten my true love what with drinking and the raising of the POD and such. But it has been rediscovered. I have gone over and over my recent Entertainment Weekly which has an in-depth study of the upcoming fall season. Currently, I'm contemplating putting some premiere dates into my calendar...the only thing holding me back is how incredibly dorky this might be but slap my ass and call me Sally, I just devoted 24 hours to a tv show, I think my reputation can handle the blow.

So, as if you give a crap, I will rundown my television interests - past, present and future - in full disclosure of my dorkiness. If you choose to no longer visit this site in fear my geekdom may rub off on you, I completely understand.

Childhood loves? Electric Company and Captain Kangaroo far surpassed Seasame Street and that crack addict, Mr. Rogers.

Teen loves? Anything they put on MTV - when they used to play videos. Now every time I swing by MTV, it's always spring break which just leaves me with pictures of POD in some bar in Tijuana letting some jackass guy/gal take a shot out of her ass crack or something. I already have those fears - no need for MTV to stoke that fire.

College tv affairs? Knot's Landing and you can thank my roommate Whitney for this one. I would still ball Gary Ewing.

Law school diversions? The usual suspects - 90210, Melrose Place and Party of Five. We had whole dinner parties around Melrose Place viewings but that certainly doesn't make us unique.....of course, the level of drunkeness while simultaneously viewing Melrose and doing case briefs might make us a tad special.

Near past loves? Well, here's a hint - I hereby by pledge allegiance to Joss Whedon and all that he has done or may do in the future. My buddy Rob and I (shout out to Rob!) watched these shows over the phone together - he being in Florida and me being in Chicago.....ummmmm....neither of us got out much at the time (but you should know we both have risen over our loser status and rock out with our cocks out now!)

Present madness? Putting my new lover of 24 aside, I tivo Alias and Lost - but big whoop - most kids do.

Currently enjoying Rockstar INXS and well, that is all the summer had to offer me.

Let's see.... what else.....oh, I love The Office but mostly love the british version which cracks my ass up.

I recently viewed Always Sunny in Philadelphia which made me snort.

On the pay cable side, give me some Deadwood, you cocksuckers. (Wow, that sounded nasty)

On my expanded cable side, if left to my own devices, I would watch every single episode of the Wedding Story and Adoption Stories. Also, if you have a show with sextuplets or something conjoined, count me in.

What shows am I looking forward to this fall? Hard to say, hard to say.

The return of favorites - Without a Trace, Cold Case, Grey's Anatomy,Arrested Development, House, Gilmore Girls, Amazing Race, and Veronica Mars.

New shows I'll be checking on - Prison Break (already like it), Kitchen Confidential (with Xander in it!), My Name is Earl, Bones (starring Angel!). I'm sure I'll be checking out the whole alien genre that seems to bepopping up this fall as well.

I will NOT be watching Martha Stewart, Donald Trump or Geena Davis (the size of her teeth scare me).

Well, that's it - I'm out of the closet. I am a tv addict. Don't even get me started on my obsession with all awards shows or the Simpsons or King of the Hill.

We've merely tapped the surface, my friends. There's alot of bullshit beneath this.

I hereby open myself up to all of your tv related queries - I am in the loop, in the "know", I know my tv. Bring it on.

Oh Bristol, How I Love Thee!

Bristol - we came, we saw, we got knee-walking piss drunk. Someone should throw that on a bumper sticker.

So,fun was had by all. I would like to tell many soul tickling tales of fun from Bristol....but one doesn't know where to start...

Perhaps one should start with passing the "I'm A Lady Discount Lingerie Store"? (As opposed to passing the "I'm A Man Discount Lingerie Store")

Perhaps one should start with all the race fans who acted like this was the first time they've seen a little red wagon? We pulled up with wagon in tow and you would have thought we were hauling a modern scientific miracle. Those Bristol fans just love them some new-fangled technology! Like wheels! And a wagon! With a beer cooler! My god, IT'S GENIUS!

Perhaps I should begin with one young suiter who tried to woo me in his pop-up camper? Sort of a pop-up in a pop-up? Get it? Hahahahahaha

Perhaps I should begin with the frantic search for a little rubber raincoat for one member of our little gang? Sadly, search unsuccessful and therefore subsequent romance unsuccessful. Pity. (And no, Daddy, I'm NOT talking about me)

Perhaps I should begin with the phone call received from the one "most likely to be shot" client who has my cell phone number and called me in mid-drunk? I believe I gave some relevant advice like "Fuck them, those fuckers! They can't fucking do that! They don't know who they're fucking dealing with, Sista!" (Please note: said comment was made to 62 year old, african american special ed lady teacher who I happen to be representing - expecting call from state bar any minute now)

Perhaps I should begin with the fact that one of use ran out of clean underwear so in a show of solidarity we all ditched our drawers? (By the way, the chafing creme works)

Perhaps I should begin with our attempts to find a "shortcut" out of the track where we decided to scurry under a fence and make like mountain goats down the side of a hill so steep that all other race fans stopped to call and heckle our descent?

Perhaps I should begin with my fall on said hill and how I managed to find some thorns on said hill with my said underwearless ass?

Perhaps I should simply not relay ANY of these stories....me thinks me already shared too much.

Like I said, fun was had by all.

Life and Times of a Gothic Princess

Okay, I'm here. Stop your bellyaching. Before we discuss the POD, a few housekeeping issues. I have been discovered and invaded by the spammers. Apparently, my interest in a lifetime supply of Viagra and lengthening my penis has caused said spammers to find me easy prey. So now there is a little word verification thingy for when you comment. Please don't let this disuade you from commenting - it's really not hard. And we all know I'm slut for comments. Well, I'm also just a slut but that's neither here nor there.

I have slowly but surely recovered from the Captain Nutty visit. And for those inquiring minds, I do not know how the chaffing creme works as I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH CHAFFING..... sweating is another issue. Speaking of sweating, I had to sew the emblem on the POD's new school blazer (does this just scream stuck-up private school or what?) And let me be perfectly clear, I do not know how to sew. I "hemmed" her pants with hemming tape - no sewing involved. But alas, one emblem must be sewn on or else we're looking at a uniform detention. So, I sewed. And? It made me break out in a sweat! Do you hear what I am saying? I am so out of shape that SEWING caused me to break out in a sweat. Good god. Who knew sewing was an aerobic sport?

Anyway,as I said previously, the Princess of Darkness (POD) has returned from her royal visit to the great white north this summer and has resumed her duties here. The summer matured her royal highness a wee bit. She seems to have moved away from the Insane Clown Posse worship into a stomach-turning fascination with Marilyn Manson. Hard to say how to take that one. Of course, Captain Nutty takes this as a further sign that good old Belzebub has his little foothold into our family.

On the good news front, apparently, gal pal, Krystal with a "K" who was the POD's gang-banging, orthodontically challenged girlfriend,kicked the POD to the curb a few weeks ago. I won't even go into how this bucktoothed delinquent hurt my precious little POD and how I would like to kick her ass but I fear retaliation from the Latino gang community of the white bread suburbs in which they reside - they might run me over with their mom's subaru or something.

On the bad news front, they are "still friends" and POD of course won't listen to my stories of why it is so bad to be "friends" with your ex's. I try to explain but I get the "what do you know?" I'm just a stupid older sister who's never been dumped! I objected and said "of course I' ve been dumped!". To which the POD looked surprised and said, "you've dated???". Yep. Point made.

POD is currently dating a boy. That's right - A BOY. A boy who goes to her school and has manners (also a crazy ass mother but who am I to hold that against someone)! I'm sure any day now I'll hear how he's like the school's "most likely to be someone's bitch in maximum security" or the "dropped the soap on purpose guy" but for now I'll take it. I expect any day to get some phone call from the school about blow jobs in the locker rooms or something but for now we're flying good.

POD also managed to snag the lead in the school play. That's my baby - drama queen! One day she'll be famous and then I'll be rich when I publish the tales of her misspent youth. Oh, the glory that day. She will sooooo be the next Courtney Love.

I will be leaving tomorrow to join my pals Cowboy Dan, Kitty and the Dutch Porn Star in Bristol for a little NASCAR fun. Make sure you look for me on t.v. I'll be the redneck one on top of the r.v. screaming obscenities at Jeff Gordon. Kitty has purchased a laptop so I just MAY be able to live post from racing ruckus. Wish me luck!

Functioning

Fear not, gentle readers, I am still here. I am simply busy and in a slow spiral of death I was trapped in during Captain Nutty's visit.

I don't have much time to write right now but wanted to pop in and let those "anonymous" readers and commentors know that I will be back and your concern is touching (please read with sarcasm). I have been busy getting the Princess of Darkness back into her school groove (no easy task) and there is that little thing of running my own firm, i.e. my attempts to make money.

Unfortunately, not all of us can run off to the Michigan racelike some idiots I know. "Anonymous", my ass.

More Therapy In My Future

So when your mother comes to visit you, does she bring you a gift? A little knick-knack perhaps? Some new fashion for the impending fall season?

My mother brought me a little gift.

She brought me anti-chubb rub creme or as the label calls it "new chafing relief powder-gel for my inner thigh and bikini area".

Top that...I dare you.

Passive Aggressive? Me?

So Captain Nutty has arrived with the Princess of Darkness (POD) in tow (for those newcomers, this means my mother is visiting with my little sister). Captain Nutty has been her usual nutty self and the POD has displayed her usual surliness and general disdain for all things cheerful and nice (it's going to be a great school year for me and POD!)

This all leads me to this little scenario.

The night before a big hearing I come down with a raging case of the old backdoor trots. This of course follows me into the morning and all the way to court where I sit on the bench with butt cheecks firmly clenched praying that I don't have to make a run for it in the middle of my client's testimony. Well, I make it through and chalk all the intestinal discomfort up to stress....until I get home. I arrive home and Captain Nutty laughingly informs me that last night whilst preparing some pasta (okay, it was macaroni and cheese), she added some oil to the noodles to keep them from sticking (like this must be a HUGE problem for Kraft Mac N'Cheese. Who the fuck adds olive oil to pasta from a box with day-glo, powdered cheese?). However, by accident she added the dish washing soap that is in a decorative bottle by the sink THINKING it was olive oil. What fun! What stomach cramping shennanigans!

Now, one could maybe forgive her for such oversight considering the soap WAS in a decorative, unlabeled bottle. BUT it was her idea in the first place that I put such dishwashing soap in a decorative bottle, she even BOUGHT me the bottle and IT WAS NEXT TO THE DAMN SINK, FOR CRYING OUTLOUD!

Well, I managed to not throttle her because any criticism of Captain Nutty merely prefaces a good hour's worth of tears and general dismay on how she has failed me and "why I am so mean to her".

But later I notice as she is sitting out on my back porch that she is sitting on the towel I used to wipe up the dog's pee the night before. And.....I say nothing. Nothing at all.

Does this make me a bad person?

Don't bother answering, I know I'm going to hell.