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Wednesday, September 26, 2007

SAD TRUTHS 

Bosco sez: MOVE, B*TCH! GET OUT THE WAY-!

-So, it turns out, a burrito a day does not keep the doctor away.

-Soon, your body will change.

-People will not give you a better job/raise because you are skilled.

-People will give you a better job/raise because you beg, scream, and cry, and threaten to leave. And are a suck-up.

-My little dog, Bosco, does not care if he is standing in a huge lake of another dog's pee. He still has to stand, IN Pee Lake, while he makes his little sprinkle. This is ineffectual, and only results in his feet getting wet, but I'm not about to burst his bubble. You do it.

-Mothers, regardless of age, race, and gender (well, maybe not gender) are the most puffed-up, entitled acting...well, mothers, on the planet.

-This morning, while I was walking Bosco to do his tiny Pee Lake sprinkle, two of the mother(effer)s were parked stroller-to-stroller, completely blocking the sidewalk. Yet when I walked all away around them (into the street) so Bosco could pee on a signpost, one of them still went harrumph.

-I almost paid Bosco $200 to go and pee on one of their strollers/infants, but he would only use it to buy silk Hugh Hefner pajamas.

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SAD TRUTHS

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

NOW WITH 75% MORE BONUS FURY 

Divided into 5 thingies:

1. People who say, "gee, you sure are pissed off," even after seeing the above blog title.

2. Men who are rude to females, barging ahead of them in the store, etc. Especially ones who wear mandals and probably consider themselves pro-women. Maybe it's just my Texas showing, but I think men should always treat women with grace and dignity, whether they weigh 3 lbs. or 300 lbs. - as if that woman were their own mother, daughter, or grandmother. I am a delicate fucking flower, goddamnit. I am a cocksucking princess (of nothing), but you should still offer me cuts in line. And go put on some shoes. And clip your nasty-assed toenails. And get a haircut.

3. Club cards. I wish Ralph's, Von's, Petco, RiteAid, SavOn, CVS, habla blah would just stop having them. Because I do not know where they are, and will only waste precious retail time digging for them in my purse-dog sized purse. Then, when I do not find them, I will make them give me a new one. This is a massive waste of petroleum products let alone space in the landfills.

And please do not suggest that I keep one of those pissant-sized little keyring ones on my chain, as this only leads to lost keys. Happens to me all the damn time.

4. People who smoke out their car windows. I have a convertible (that does not convert) and also no air conditioning. So by not wanting to befoul their cars, these cocksmokers are befouling mine. The funny part is, they probably also don't want to breathe their own secondhand smoke. But for other people to breathe it is OK.

Personally I think all smokers should be required to smoke with the windows rolled up and not even a vent open. They should also pull into this convenient airtight garage, and put the hose I have helpfully provided from their exhaust into their driver's side window and roll up tight, Smokeybritches!! Just a suggestion.

What. I am only trying to assist them in their quest to be dead soon.

5. The fact that in Hollywood, seeing human vomit/feces seems to be a daily occurrence. How scenic.

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NOW WITH 75% MORE BONUS FURY

Sunday, September 16, 2007

OPEN LETTER TO ANNOYING HIPPIE PARENT IN THE LOS ANGELES NAT'L FOREST 

Okay, first of all, it is really irritating that in a city as dense as ours, there is practically nowhere you can go to be even 70% not fucking annoyed by people. Not even the so-called wilderness.

We were making our way up the side of a narrow trail which was entirely too precarious to be navigating around a family of three, especially when my dog Bosco would rather throw himself off a cliff (and almost did) than subject himself to the rough attentions of a small child.

Tulip just sat there looking up at Cranky like, help me as the little snot persisted in torturing her by attempting to forcibly pet her while her ├╝ber-crunchy parents did nothing.

On the way back, we had the misfortune of running into the same brat, who this time approached Tulip with all the subtlety of a herd of buffalo while I admonished Cranky, "please don't put her through that again," which is to say, don't let the damn kid chase her all over the place while trying not to appear rude, because clearly these so-called parents think everything their child does is 100% magically delicious and delightful, and rainbow fairies fly out her ass every time she squats on the sidewalk.

Sorry, I got her confused for a moment with Tulip.

Anyway, the brazen brat chased Toolie, then Bosco, insisting "she's afraid of her own SHADOW," when I turned and flat-out told her, "NO, she just does not like KIDS."

The mother, of course, was completely appalled, "what kind of dog doesn't like kids?"

"Pfft," was all I had to say to her Birkenstock-wearing, hands-off parenting, probably still-lacatating-even though her daughter was 7 ass.

The kind that's been tortured by kids, that's what kind. (I ought to know, because I remember being one, and the mean things I would do to my grandma's chihuahua, Peppy. Mostly by just looking at him. R.I.P, poor little tormented, foul-tempered, La-Z-Boy sitting overbred little snausage.)

I don't get it. They seem to think everything and everybody in the world exists only to provide for their child's welfare and/or amusement. Do I go up to their babies and poke my finger in their eyes, then say, "oh, look! He's afraid of fingers"?! NO.

Fucking stupid granola-chomping, serial-killer-breeding, overly permissive L.A. parents.

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OPEN LETTER TO ANNOYING HIPPIE PARENT IN THE LOS ANGELES NAT'L FOREST

Sunday, September 09, 2007

SCARY WHITETRASH HORRORS 

For some reason, I have an extreme aversion-bordering-on-phobia of:

-Hannah Montana. I am so glad I don't have a little girl right now. Or boy.
-Harry Potter. And no, I won't read the books or see the movies. I absolutely refuse.
-The musical Wicked, whose godawful oversinging clips keep playing on the radio. I would rather gnaw my own ear off than hear this again, just have not yet figured out how.
-Shrek. I motherfucking hate that green thing. And WTF is a "shrek", anyway. Sounds like a word a 4 year-old made up.

I can't even figure out what some of these have in common, other than popular appeal, bad singing, possible suspect colored contacts, and/or being painted green.

Can anyone explain this. Thanks.

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SCARY WHITETRASH HORRORS

Saturday, September 01, 2007

OH. THERE IT IS. 

Let's smoke a Cheeto - It's A Nothing-!

By the way, Cheetos, coffee, and a brownie are not for breakfast; MARGARITAS are for breakfast.

I make 'em with orange juice, y'see.

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OH. THERE IT IS.

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