Deep and Philosophical Questions- Or Not!

August 8, 2015Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

I just about spit coffee out my nose when I saw this meme.

Which one will last longer? My carcass or an unopened Twinkie?

It is fabled that Twinkies will last over thirty years if unwrapped, but the official word from the Hostess company is that they only have a shelf life of 45 days. I may only have a shelf life of 45 days. Who knows?

Jerry has a thing for Twinkies right now, which is good because at least there is something he will eat. I’ve never seen anyone as picky about food in my life. I shouldn’t lose my patience so easily with him because I know he is dealing with chronic pain and illness, but sometimes he can really get on my last nerve. I don’t play well with others to begin with, so I have to cut him some slack. It helps if I get a bit of ivory tower time so I can recharge and don’t have to be constantly on guard. That’s my particular weakness- I can only deal with the rest of humanity in very small doses. Age and time is not improving that peculiarity of mine at all. If anything I need more time alone to simply stay sane, and that is a disturbing trend.

I don’t know it all. But shutting up is usually a default for me. I’m really good at the silent treatment.

Jerry went to the campground and won’t be back until tomorrow. So I am enjoying a little secret pleasure of blasting some Metallica (which he can’t stand.) Normally I am not a hard core metal head- but I have my moments. I’ll probably switch back to some Journey or some of Neal Schon’s solo stuff in awhile to mellow out. But for now, I am having some fun with James Hetfield asking the question, “Am I Evil?” Yes. Humanity is evil. There you go.

James Hetfield can actually sing rather than scream.

Smokin’ the Reefer…

I think weed should not only be legal, they should just hand it out randomly. Pass it around like the junk mail circulars one gets in the mail every day. Why? Do potheads go out and commit random crime? Hell no. They get mellow, call the pizza dude, eat everything in the fridge and then blissfully pass out. Nice and mellow and thank God, quiet. Potheads aren’t out there doing violent crime. They’re on the couch, laughing their ass off to whatever History Channel documentary (the all- Hitler-all-the-time-network, I think sometimes) or whatever Monty Python flick they can find on Netflix. Until they pass out at about 8 or 9 pm. That’s my kind of partier.

I can’t wait for the state of Ohio to get with the 21st century and legalize pot. I don’t care for pot at all- it makes me tired and hungry and depressed. I’ve not bothered with pot since I was in college back in the 80s. I have a hard enough time staying awake without smoking something that puts me to sleep. I never enjoyed the pot buzz, but I can clearly see the advantages of smoking pot for people like Jerry who are both hyper and deal with chronic pain. It could even help with him chronically being an asshole late at night. Smoking a nice big bowl of ganga might be enough for him to settle down and shut up and pass out early so I can get some sleep. I don’t do late nights worth a shit, and I’m really tired of getting woke up at all hours of the night listening to him whine and bitch- and play Eminem.

Reason #11-

So Jerry can get high, pass out early and I can get some mother effing sleep!

I’m Not Supposed to Be Like This (But It’s Okay)

May 11, 2015Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

There’s a rather obscure song written by REM back in the mid 1980s called, “The Wrong Child.” Sometimes this song sort of runs through my head at times. If I were to try to explain what my childhood felt like, this song captures it pretty well.

I’ve watched the children come and go
A late long march into spring
I sit and watch those children
Jump in the tall grass
Leap the sprinkler
Walk in the ground
Bicycle clothespin spokes
The sound the smell of swingset hands

I will try to sing a happy song
I’ll try and make a happy game to play
Come play with me I whispered to my new found friend
Tell me what it’s like to go outside
I’ve never been
Tell me what it’s like to just go outside
I’ve never been
And I never will

I’m not supposed to be like this
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay

Hey, those kids are looking at me
I told my friend myself
Those kids are looking at me
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
They’re laughing and they’re running over here
What do I do?
What can I do?
What should I do?
What do I say?
What can I say?

I said I’m not supposed to be like this
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
Let’s try to find a happy game to play
I’m not supposed to be like this
But it’s okay, okay

REM, The Wrong Child

It is a paradox. I wouldn’t change the way I’m wired for anything but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone either.

I can be an impartial observer, a voice, a navigator of sorts, but I don’t belong on the inside. I really never could be that carefree child playing with other kids without being constantly wary and afraid.

I am what I was created to be for what that is worth. No, I don’t understand and probably never will.

Arousing the Attention of Law Enforcement, and Vehicle Customization “Don’ts”

May 7, 2015Tonya Lanthron 7 Comments

I try to avoid interactions with law enforcement. I think most rational people do. I’m intimidated easily enough, and I really don’t want to be bothered anyway, so I try to just live my life, quietly obeying the rules and generally blending into the wall.

I learned a disturbing truth a few mornings ago. I should know better, too, but I wasn’t paying attention.

On my car (the illustrious Corolla S, with the 6 speed manual, which is an awesome ride) you can just leave the lights and fog lights on (which I usually do) and they will turn off when one turns the ignition off. But for some bizarre reason I turned the lights off. When you turn the lights off, the DRLs (headlights only) still come on. Usually that’s not a real issue.

The headlights are HIDs and are insanely bright, so I didn’t notice that the parking lights or tail lights weren’t on, as I went off on my merry way through the cop obstacle course between my house and the Y. I’ve been known to see as many as six cops between my house and the Y (1.8 miles.) This is particularly odd, considering I make this trip between 5 and 5:15AM. I know there are quite a few speed traps in that small stretch, so I plan accordingly and keep at a painfully slow 35MPH to avoid an unplanned and expensive speeding ticket.

So I was completely shocked when I had a cop light me up. I know I was only doing 35 or maybe a bit less, so what in the flying thunder could this guy want with me?

I did remember the most important thing from my CCW class- let the officer see your hands, because he knows you carry the minute he runs your plates.

So as I stuck my hands out the window, all I could say was, “My weapon is in the trunk.” Which it was. I’m not about lying to cops.

He asks for my driver’s license, and then asked me if I knew my tail lights were out. Then it dawned on me- I looked at the dash and realized for some reason I’d turned off the lights and was just running on DRLs. Oh. Shit.

So the officer- who thankfully wasn’t being a douche bag about it, even though he would have had the right- ran my license. Seeing I had no record, or outstanding warrants, or reason to believe I was running a meth lab out of a late model Corolla, let me go once he verified that yes, my lights all work- when they’re turned on.

At least I didn’t get a speeding ticket.

I have to wonder if I’d been treated differently had I been younger, male, or belonged to a different ethnic group. I know Steve-o was randomly pulled over several times when he had his Audi. The demographics didn’t look good- a 20 year old kid driving a late model Audi A4 in impeccable condition, in an area where the average young 20 something is unemployed, on drugs, and not averse to stealing things. I think the cops just couldn’t believe that someone of Steve-o’s demographic actually worked and earned money to buy a nice car via legitimate means. In their defense, considering most of his age cohorts, I understand their incredulity.

So… the place of notoriety for those of Steve-o’s generation is the “Busted” paper- getting your mug shot plastered all over Central Ohio. The list of names (center) were all the bizarre names I found in just that one issue of the “Busted” paper. Anyone with the last name “Hunt” should really have their head examined before naming their child “Michael.” Another one I found funny was the name “Ciera,” as if her first name should be “Cutlass.” And the name “Crystal,” no matter how you spell it, leads me to want to call her “Crystal Meth.” Note to self: do NOT use the “Busted” paper as a reference source for potential baby names. Although I’m sure some people do.

The badly painted (likely with a house roller) Cincinnati Bengals tribute Civic is a more typical vehicle for someone of Steve-o’s age to be seen driving. Either that or this distressed Accord:

This looks eerily like Steve-o’s first car, a ’92 Accord with about 400K on it.

As soon as he could afford it, he traded it on a ’95 Integra- but he’s had plenty of cars since then.

I mean, right MEOW.

Steve-o got to sit in the back of a cruiser (twice) while the cop verified that his temp tag was legit right after he bought the Audi. Not long after he got his regular plates he got pulled over (again) and the K9 officer who pulled him over thought it appropriate to go through the Audi with the drug dog. I doubt if they found a cough drop or a gum wrapper, (Steve-o is one of those people who doesn’t eat, smoke or do anything in the car that might leave a mess) but the dog did leave behind some hair and slobber that provoked Steve-o to pay for a $150 detail to remove. In some ways I’m glad he traded the Audi for a (newer, yes, but less ostentatious) Jetta. He’s not been pulled over once in the Jetta. Apparently that’s not as much of a head turner as the Audi.

Do I agree with profiling? Not necessarily, and I realize that if Steve-o appeared to be anything other than what can only be called “super white” that a simple, “have a seat in the cruiser” could have turned far uglier. Cops are human too. I know I profile. I know I hit that door lock switch extra fast in certain parts of town. I’m not saying it’s right to do it, but everyone does.

I Think I Saw a Ghost, Some Enchanting Suppositions (Not to Be Confused with Suppositories)

February 16, 2015Tonya Lanthron 2 Comments

What are the odds of encountering one’s best friend from high school (who I’ve not seen in at least 10 and more like 12 years) in a Certified station/ Subway on the way home? Probably dismal, especially considering the only reasons I stopped there were a.) because I had to take a wicked crap, and b.) Jerry had wanted me to bring him a specific footlong from Subway, and I figured I’d combine errands.

I am really crappy at recognizing people, (even people I see all the time, I might remember the face but not place the name) and I am not at all surprised she had to call me out. Then again, I see people who I think I recognize all the time- who in reality either I don’t know them from Adam’s housecat and/or they don’t know me from Adam’s housecat either. So I make bloody sure I know who I’m talking with before I assume anything. Most people who knew me in high school would probably not recognize me now since I did away with the Big 80’s hair, but yesterday I was probably even less distinguishable since I was wearing the big black rimmed cat eye glasses (the ones in my avatar pic) and a hat.

When I did finally affirm to myself who she was, I swore I had seen a ghost. And I don’t believe in that stuff.

But people who know you still know you. Even when time has not been kind to either of us. There are incidents in my past that I would rather leave there, and revisiting old friends also means reopening old wounds. I’m not saying all my memories of back in the day were bad. Some were funny. Some were difficult. There was a lot of partying. I stopped binge drinking many, many years ago- 1993 to be more or less exact- so that sort of thing doesn’t really have any charm for me now. I’ve moved into a different sphere than most of my old friends. I doubt if we have much in common, but then again, I don’t have much in common with too many people.

I know that my friend has had problems with drinking and addiction on and off, as well as myriad health concerns, which makes keeping in touch even more difficult. She has been used and abused by men. She has spent most of her life painfully poor. I don’t say that as a value judgment, because I could have gone down those paths just as easily. The wear and tear just looks different.

I almost felt guilty. I’m not a wealthy woman by any stretch, but here I am with my late model car and smart phone, and she’s asking me if I know anyone with a cheap, crappy used car because she’s been without a car for six months. Her youngest son is in trouble and has been in and out of the joint for stealing her credit card and for other things. She’s living in a redneck trailer park. It could be worse, but it could be a lot better, too.

I can’t think this could be even remotely aesthetically pleasing. Bubba pissin’ out the trailer door at 3 AM…

What can I do to help? I wonder. Would it be condescending to offer what scant help I might think I can give, because I know she is the type to be fiercely independent?

At least we did exchange phone numbers, and maybe I’ll have the courage to call.

Maybe I’m afraid that in getting back in touch with old friends I would be tempted to go back to my old ways- hot boxing cigarettes and getting butt drunk- but I highly doubt it. Perhaps I just don’t like being reminded of my own mortality yet again, and I don’t like facing the reality that there is never really a way to get back home. The spheres are forever changed.

Why is it that some stupid dude getting nutted, especially in a stupid way, is ALWAYS funny?

There are a number of TV shows that seem to capitalize on traumatized testicles as entertainment. I can’t say I know why it’s funny, but it always is. Maybe it’s funnier to me because I don’t have nuts.

I think the biggest temptation for me when I meet up with old friends is to get embroiled in the details of their lives again and to make myself too available. It’s one thing to shoot the shit and hang out with someone from time to time, but quite another to become so caught up in trying to help someone else that I get caught off balance and get my priorities screwed up. When is it appropriate to be a friend and when does being a friend become being taken advantage of? Back in the day I provided everything from transportation to cigarettes to even clothes and money at times for my friends, (and they kept me from getting my ass kicked) but I’m not in a place where I can readily do that now.

I think my first endeavor at subversive cross stitch went rather well.

I just have to mount it in the frame.

Speaking of cats, we are probably soon going to be back at four cats. The cat rescue people managed to capture the three legged all white cat that has been living on the body shop lot. I thought it was a male, but it’s a female and she’s recovering from being spayed. Jerry calls her Tripod (not a terribly nice name) because she’s missing most of her right rear leg. That cat has been missing most of her leg since she was a very small kitten.

I have had a few all black cats. I’ve never had an all white cat. I’ve also never had a cat missing a leg.

It’s going to be interesting.

Things I Should Not Be Allowed to Do, and What a Nostalgic Feeling

January 30, 2015Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

The Right to Bear Arms Shall Not be Infringed…

Hello Kitty supports the 2nd Amendment. Do you?

I need to stay away from my granddaughter’s coloring books.

I have to say I got the idea from a lovely website called Coloring Book Corruptions and it is funny. Hello Kitty with grenades and mortars and an M-16. Shame on me. I probably shouldn’t show her getting a contact buzz from a field mouse either.

Terrible, I know.

I remember how much fun I used to have with old magazines scribbling on the faces and making people look like they drooled or had snot all over them. Puerile and sophomoric, yes, I get that, but I need some kind of harmless artistic outlet. It’s cool that I’ve discovered one can do a similar thing with cross-stitch patterns, where you stitch samplers of skulls and knives and gory images with off color and pithy sayings. There are books out there with the patterns ready made, but before I buy those I’d like to experiment with a few of my own.

It’s been a long time since I really sat down and enjoyed some cross-stitch. That’s a shame because it can be relaxing.

Oh, yes they will.

I may have some time for such relaxing pursuits this weekend, as we are supposed to get a big old dose of the White Death here in beautiful Central Ohio on Sunday. Joy and rapture. I am not going anywhere in it even if I am driving a 4X4. What people don’t realize is that 4 wheel drive does not make you invincible. It gives you a bit more traction on snow, but it is not worth a tinker’s damn on freezing rain or ice. The last thing I need is to have something happen to Jerry’s truck. He’s rather cavalier when it’s my car involved, but if it’s his truck, that’s a whole different situation. I’m sure he wouldn’t be sitting around for a month waiting on it to get fixed.

I’m still waiting on my car to be finished. The last I saw it, they were repairing the decklid and the finish panel under the decklid that is beneath the rear fascia. The new rear fascia hasn’t been painted yet and neither has the decklid or finish panel. I am satisfied, however, that the small dent in the finish panel has been duly repaired, treated and primed so the back of my car doesn’t rust out from the inside.

My freaking out about whether or not my car is repaired correctly is worse than when medical people have to be patients in a hospital or doctor’s office. I’ve been around automotive repair my entire life and I am all too aware of what can and does go wrong. I see it every flipping day.

Nasty.

And yes, I have seen cars fall off of racks. This is not pretty, and in both instances that I witnessed, it was only the Hand of God that kept the unfortunate techie from being splattered.

Surprisingly, the vehicles usually aren’t that horribly damaged when they fall.

Unless they fall into something else…

I want my car back. I also want the White Death to go away, so I can not be as paranoid about my car once I do get it back. Only the White Death won’t go away for awhile yet. It has yet to fade to the snowbooger grey sticky muck. Here begins the February Funk, and it sucks ass.

The Unsung Delights of Middle Age, and No One Sends Me Flowers (Just Send Cash Instead ;))

November 12, 2014Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Middle age has its distinct disadvantages, but there are some distinct advantages to be had for the cougar/geezer set that most people don’t think about.

1. No one asks (begs, coerces, etc.) you to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. This is a very beautiful thing, considering the last time I had to do that was in 1993 , and I’m still pissed at my oldest sister for that outlay of cash and aggravation.

No, I’m NOT wearing that- or any other dress without sleeves. Ever.

At my advanced age I don’t have to worry about it. Nobody in her right mind wants my freaky ass in her wedding pictures. My sisters are the only ones who didn’t let me decline the bridesmaid thing graciously. One has been married since 1993 (thank God because there is no amount of coercion that will make me do the bridesmaid thing again- ever) and the other is happily divorced. Anyone else who makes that request, I can and will tell to go blow with impunity, but my friends pretty much know better than to ask. I’ll gladly attend your wedding and even buy you crap, (or get you a Target gift card,) but that’s the extent of my involvement.

2. Aunt Flo doesn’t visit any more. Not since the hysterectomy. I couldn’t be more delighted with that.

Hot flashes suck- but I can wear white pants any time I want!

3. Older people have a certain amount of gravitas in dealings with the young and inexperienced. I also have buff young college boys asking me if I need help with my groceries. I don’t need help with my groceries, though it would be nice when I get home with them if Jerry didn’t disappear every time I’m unloading the car.

I already brought in the cat litter, dog food, beer, (which I don’t drink) and 12 packs of pop.

Come to think of it, I don’t shit in the cat litter or eat the dog food either, but they don’t have thumbs.

Granted, nobody bothers to send me flowers but I have no idea what to do with them. They sit on my desk for a few days, die, and then I throw them out.

Just give me the cash.

Back in the day there was no such thing as political correctness in the clothing industry. We can all remember when fat boys’ clothes were called “Husky.” I don’t think they have “Husky” sizes any more.

Even Lane Bryant doesn’t use the “Chubby” word anymore, even when referring to size Extreme Lard Ass.

Imagine the politically correct furor that would ensue should any clothier use an ad like the one pictured above. Stand back and watch the fireworks. However, in the 1950’s virtually nobody was fat, so this ad would only apply to a handful of girls rather than most of them.

I say just make everything a one-size-fits-all mu-muu if your ass is that huge.

Side Effects May Include “Death,” But At Least I’m Enjoying the Ride

April 30, 2014Tonya Lanthron 1 Comment

I have to wonder at all these TV ads for various prescription meds. There are a lot of them- especially the ones for rheumatoid arthritis and psoriasis- that actually say in their disclaimers that using that drug can lead to death. I think I’d rather deal with joint pain and skin rash. The last time I checked, stiff and inflamed joints and/or unsightly skin are just a tad bit less severe than death. Of course you have to weigh the risks vs. benefits when you decide whether or not to take a certain medication, but I try to steer clear of the ones where “death” is listed as a possible side effect. I’m not a fan of “occasional bleeding from the eye sockets” or “prolonged anal itching” either.

I know that the trial lawyers are always trolling about to strike it big on the pharmaceutical companies because someone dies (or is somehow maimed) from a side effect of a drug. There’s always a commercial on telling people they can get compensation if their son’s ADHD meds gave him titties, or if the pelvic mesh or the artificial hip gives out, or if that pesky vision loss brought on by gratuitous use of ED meds just won’t go away.

Speaking of rides, I am enjoying mine immensely. I am quite impressed with the Corolla so far. Usually I know pretty well what I will and won’t like from the build sheet and tech specs.

This car doesn’t really scream “mom sedan” like the older Corollas. I had a 1998 (that was the last Corolla I had) that I really liked- but it was a bit on the frumpy side. That’s why I just had to have the 2000 Celica when it came out. I did take a moment to drool over the Scion FRS while I was at the dealer, but I need a four door, and I really don’t want to attract the attention of law enforcement. This Corolla is about the same size as the older Camrys and is quite a bit larger than the Yaris, but it still doesn’t feel like a land yacht. The steering and suspension are a lot more responsive than the Yaris (not a surprise there) and it doesn’t get blown around in the wind like the Yaris did.

The freaky thing about this car is the electronics. It has navigation and Bluetooth and all the toys (which I am still learning) and those things are pretty fun.

Of course I am weird in how I buy cars. I know pretty much exactly what I want before I even contact a dealer, and I know pretty much what I’m willing to pay. I know the tech specs – all that stuff about suspensions, transaxles, engine displacement, torque, horsepower, etc. – and features better than most salespeople, although the navigation and smartkey options are new to me.

I’ve always appreciated the four cylinder sports car- along the lines of the ’83 VW GTI or the 2000 Celica, both of which I can still smack myself for trading off- but in practical application I’ve had more four cylinder econoboxes and mom sedans.

I think I’ve found an interesting compromise here.

A Few of My Favorite Things, and Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

November 21, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Most of my favorite things, I’ve found, are in the absence of nasty things.

I like quiet as opposed to blather and noise.

I like being left alone. (usually)

I like it when my head is free of being clogged with snot. (this doesn’t happen often)

I like it when I am not drowning in the snot that constantly drains down the back of my throat. (also doesn’t happen often)

I must be a really simple person when a good day consists of being relatively quiet and snot-free.

Why is there no cure for snot?

Today’s sort of good news is that I don’t have a fever (opposed to the last two days) but I still feel shitty and, as usual for me, am plagued by gallons of draining snot. At least my throat is no longer on fire, which is a plus. I could, however, do without the distinct sensation that someone is driving a rusty spike through my right eye-hole. Even so, I was well enough to drag my sorry carcass back to work, even though another day of swilling hot tea and attempting to sleep probably would have been better for me.

Bailey’s and coffee would be even better, except I know how that would wreak havoc on my sugar.

I wish I could….have a few of these!

I could also do without the pompous ass-pilots of the world, but if they were to suddenly disappear from the face of the earth, about half the population of the planet would be missing.

What would happen to all the Corvettes?

Corvette owners have a reputation for being, uh, not-so-nice. I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule.

I’ve never been a huge Corvette fan (I’d rather have a ’69 Karmann Ghia, or a ’69 FJ40 if I could afford collectible cars) but one has to admit, the new one is interesting to look at. I wouldn’t want the car payment or the insurance premium, but I’m not evil enough to have the that kind of scratch, either.

Perhaps the week would be more interesting if we had “motivational days” that looked like this:

Overall, I’m thankful to be alive and vertical. Sometimes I don’t sound like it, but overall, I am. Even considering dealing with ass-pilots and endless snots and everything else annoying.

The Curious American Fascination With Royalty, and Other Strange Vestigialities

July 31, 2013Tonya Lanthron Leave a comment

Is that a weasel or a ferret?

I never knew Queen Elizabeth I was enamored of weasels or ferrets, (the creature on her arm is an ermine- a polite name for a variety of weasel) but in Elizabethan times I’m sure a lone member of the Mustelidae family wouldn’t have added much to the general pestilence of the court. Bathing wasn’t terribly high on the priorities of most Elizabethans. Royalty did bathe more often than the peasantry, who I would assume would only get a good douching in a rainstorm. I think the royals did bathe relatively often- once a week or so- and they did have access to perfumes and soap. I shudder to think about toileting arrangements for the masses and their livestock back then though. No wonder all those people died from typhoid and cholera. Not to mention the plague, which has recently been identified in a squirrel population in California. Too bad it’s the wrong kind of squirrel population.

These aren’t the squirrels to which I refer.

I’ve always thought it a bit strange that Americans still seem to be enamored of British royals. Truth be told today’s royal family- the Windsors– (or should I say Saxe-Coburg and Gotha) are probably more German by ancestry than anything. The name change to Windsor was in response to anti-German sentiment surrounding WWI.

Germans with English names. Sort of like Steve-o, who has an English name, but has more German ancestry than the rest of the family.

Today’s royalty are more or less figureheads with no political authority, but back in the days of the American Revolution, kings (and sometimes queens) held the power of life and death for their subjects. Yeah, that kind of power would be kind of cool, but it could also lead to all kinds of witch hunting and cronyism and the mysterious disappearance of political opposition. Oh, the Obama administration rings a bell, at least as far as the scandal and sleaze factors go. What’s worse about Obama is whatever privileges he thinks he deserves were usurped via dishonest means (i.e. only natural born American citizens are eligible to hold the office of the Presidency) as well as egregious voter fraud. I haven’t forgotten about that- and I’m not going to either. History will prove me right in the end.

The fascination some people have with today’s royals to me is a sort of a modern-day hold out of the fairy tale myth of the all-powerful ruler. The closest thing America has to royalty (don’t even think the Obamas, even though they think and behave as if they have royal entitlements) is the Hollywood crowd.

I think the British royals to be far less sordid than Hollywood, and far more admirable than the Obamas. The royals (unlike most of Hollywood) even have some redeeming features, such as sponsoring legitimate charities, and serving in the military.

I don’t see the Duchess of Cambridge out there screaming about “reproductive rights” (aka: abortion advocacy) while at the same time crying crocodile tears and telling everyone that eating meat is murder. I don’t hear of the Queen telling her subjects that she could have been Trayvon Martin 30 years ago either. I can see where she might show some affinity for Elton John, as he and the Queen share similar taste in hats, but I can’t see her claiming Trayvon.

Now this guy is back in the news. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener.

I don’t think I would vote for this guy- except to piss off Hillary Clinton. She probably has a bigger unit than him, so she shouldn’t be too upset. If I really want to sausage-gaze I think there are better endowed specimens than Wiener (in spite of the name) to be found online. Then again it’s one thing if women are requesting sausage shots from our friend Mr. Wiener, and quite another if the sausage shots are being sent unsolicited. To me it wouldn’t be nearly as perverted if the women are asking for the pics. Then at least they’re getting what they deserved.

Now, for a guy to just randomly send a portfolio of Mr. Happy to every female for whom he has contact information, either he’s a 13 year old pulling a rather sick prank, or that’s a cry for attention.

Am I the only one creeped out by dancing food? Especially dancing wieners. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener.

Wiener. Wiener. Wiener. Wiener. It’s just fun to say wiener.

I’m not a snake. I don’t prefer to consume my prey whilst it’s still alive. I don’t want my food to dance. Especially wieners. I want my food to remain perfectly still until I decide to move it from the plate to my mouth, unless of course I’m eating Jello.

Inevitable Entropy: i.e. The Shithouse Rats Have Assumed Control

May 7, 2013Tonya Lanthron 3 Comments

Anywhere but here!

I’m not the sort of person who tries to shove my faith down people’s throats, at least not in an overt manner. My faith does inform my worldview, and it does influence what kind of an example I strive to be, (remembering that some of us are examples of what NOT to do) but I’m not going to be the one handing out Chick Tracts or scaring the holy bejezus out of people with threats of damnation and hellfire. I believe there’s a real hell, but I can’t keep anyone out of it who really wants to go. I can’t bring anyone to heaven either. Jesus said He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. If you want to inquire about heaven, then Jesus is the one you want to get to know, not a crusty old purveyor of automotive parts.

Anyway, I’ve made an observation that is not surprising. I’ve known for years that the gene pool could use some more chlorine, but I think that the shithouse rat crazies have assumed control. Mind you, I am no paragon of mental health, but today’s headlines (even as much as I try to avoid mainstream news) are positively insane.

Chris Christie had LapBand. Is this a surprise?

In my world “news” should be unusual or enlightening information. I’m glad that Governor Christie could afford to have LapBand, despite the fact I’m one of the poor suckers who has to decide which scripts I can afford when. I am sort of reminded of the morbidly obese who ride around in the WalMart motorized scooters. If they would get off their rumps and walk through WalMart, perhaps the scooter would not be necessary. If not for the expensive (and calorie laden, no doubt) diet, perhaps he would not have needed the expensive surgery. But I will be merciful, because I know poor metabolism is a bitch.

As far as being one challenged by weight management, I will say one thing about the correlation between being poor and fat (as opposed to being rich and fat.) When you can’t afford healthy food, you will buy what will fill your belly, even if it is discount mac-n-cheese, or all kinds of corn-laden, sugar-filled, salty snacky food. Fresh produce (especially in places like Ohio) is of poor quality and exorbitant high price in winter. Granted, if you are observant you can get frozen fruits and vegetables- which are almost as good health-wise as fresh, at a reasonable price without preservatives, salt or grease, but you have to look.

This isn’t news. If he loses weight and gets buff, and stays away from Obama, AKA: Beezelbub, that would be news. Maybe. I lost a lot of respect for Governor Christie when he sucked up to Obama after the hurricane. One does not kiss up to evil just because it is expedient, but hell, if I could afford a medical procedure (if if existed) that would make me 6′ tall and 120# I’d be the first one to break out the MasterCard.

Kim and Kanye– How Dare She Wear My Curtains!

I understand that most conceptions are accidental. The illustrious Steve-o wasn’t planned, and neither was his daughter. However, I think she could have done a better job at picking a baby daddy as well as picking a dress that doesn’t make her look like someone wrapped the Titanic in my dining room curtains. Then again, should the DNA verify the unfortunate child’s paternity, Kim will never have to eat cheap boxed mac-n-cheese or have Cream-of Wheat for every meal the first week of the month ever again, as if she ever did anyway.

Now You Can Leave Cleveland!

I would be bat shit crazy too if I had to spend ten years locked away in Cleveland. Ten minutes in Cleveland is too much for me. Just think: one of these women’s captors was a school bus driver for the Cleveland public schools. Think of all the little girls who rode on his bus. Creepy. Granted, Cleveland is the hotbed of far-left nut jobs (think New York, west annex) in Ohio, but I have to wonder how nobody noticed three women (and the six-year old girl) hidden in a house for ten years. In all seriousness, I really feel for these poor women, especially the little girl, who probably has never seen the light of day.

The shrinks are going to be plenty busy with these people, which is really sad.

This guy hasn’t been impeached and removed yet.

The devolution of humanity is on the the fast track and is incrementally gaining speed.

ELYSIANHUNTER, ALWAYS INCITEFUL:

Because comedy is the flipside of tragedy

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