Posting R Us

Hubby, or a.k.a., Frownin Fred is outside with a metal detector looking for a lost clip in the leaf covered grass.  Today is probably the first time ever in the history of our union where Frownin Fred did not accuse me of stealing, losing, or throwing away his lost item.  And the only reason he isn't accusing me of this dastardly deed is because the probability of me even having seen it in the past 20 years is so low that Fred hasn't got it in him to drag me into the interrogation room and question me under the bright lights.  I'm not quite sure how this works in his mind but whenever something goes missing around these here parts Frownin Fred immediately jumps to the conclusion that it was my doing. 

Hubby - I can't find my truck keys what did you do with them?

Me - I haven't touched your keys.

Hubby - Well they aren't where I always put them so consequently it is your fault. 

Me - Have you looked in your hands?

Hubby - Oh.  Here they are. 

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Hubby - What did you do with my fluxmegatron it isn't where I thought I left it?

Me - What is a fluxmegatron, and what do you use it for?

Hubby - (rolling his eyes) Obviously you use it to fark a waichmat before tightening the loobesque shot.  Don't you remember I used to use it all the time when Billy Bob Joe Dunce used to get his loobesque hooked in the bean grinder. 

Me - No. What does it look like.

Hubby - (rolling his eyes) Its round on one side and grey on the other and makes little ping, ping noises. 

Me - Oh that thing, I used it to clip the cat's claws. 

Hubby - Don't be a smart ass. 

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He ALWAYS  accuses me of taking his stuff, 98.5% of the time not only do I not take it but I haven't got a freakin clue what the hell he is looking for.  Typically I don't have those kinds of problems with my stuff because I do this really weird freaky thing when I use it, I put it back where I got it from.

I'm not really sure why he thinks I lose his stuff because I do the same freaky thing after using his crap as well.  Perhaps he thinks if he accuses me then I will get annoyed and start looking for it.  Of course that makes sense because typically I will find it because I look like a girl, and he looks like a boy.  Meaning I actually move shit around and look over, behind, under, beside, and on things.  Boys usually allow their gaze to sweep across the room before announcing loudly that it isn't anywhere in the room.  You're standing on it.  Sigh. 

Mouth Breather Will Be Shot On Sight

The post weather report for today was rain, rain, rain, rain, and more rain.  I drove to a small town about 35 minutes away this afternoon in the rain.  Then while in class I was listening to the rain fall onto, into, and around the building I was in.  On the way home it rained a LOT, and then once I got home it rained some more.  I think you get the picture.  It was damp. 

Anyway on my drive home I was listening to the radio and heard that many Republicans said that if Obama got elected they would be moving to Canada.  I said, "Hunh?"  Then they went on to say that there was no way that they could live in a country which promotes socialist medicine, Obama Care goes against everything that is right and decent in the world, so they threatened to pack up and move up north.  These people are obviously mentally challenged so not only should they be heavily medicated they should also be locked up for their own safety.  And for the safety of all Canadians they should also be made to wear identifying signs so when they approach the boarder they will be shot with a tranquilizer gun and returned to the point of origin. 

The immigration policy for Canada is that mouth breathers need not apply. 

Please Not The Cartoons, Anything But That

Today involved going to the city and doing a Costco run with the kidlet and the two screaming banshees.  The banshee most often associated with the majority of the screaming was the quiet one today.  The female banshee was wired for sound and hopped up on cocaine, or possibly over stimulated from playing with a tea set.  Seeing as she is three it would be safe to assume that it is the tea set, but based on her actions this afternoon I wouldn't rule out the possibility that a little bit of cocaine found its way into her pablum.  I wonder what would happen if some crushed up Valium were dumped into her sippy cup the next trip out?.  Not that I'm advocating drugging small baby types.  I would never do that.  Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. 

On the way into the city, the Mesmerizer, also known as, the Mesmetron, was on and the banshees were watching Beano & Toupee.  Please kill me now.  Is it me or do little kids shows suck so bad that you would actually rather hear said kids whining and sniveling more then listening to the crap that they've created to stop the whining and sniveling?  That's a close a draw as the US 2012 presidential polls were. 

Having spent the last thirty years or so not actually watching, listening to, or being around any of the cartoons they have created for children it has been a real eye opener.  If this world goes to hell in a hand basket I swear it's going to be because when this generation of children grow up they will have been warped.  And not in a good way. 

I'm An Earthling

I’ve decided on a title for a new book; Women Are From Earth, Men Are From Penis.  Seeing as I haven’t been able to come up with even a working title for the book I’m writing I thought if I came up with a title before I started my next one it would work out better. 

So here’s the premise, men come from the planet Penis.  They call themselves Dickwadians, well maybe it’s just the women that call them that, and instead of living in communities they live in penile colonies.  They call their moon Beaver, and fly in phallic shaped rockets and try to land them in the deepest hole where they try to mine for gems but actually just end up daydreaming all day.  The hubby thinks it is a kickass idea.  His exact words were, “That’s about as close to man’s psyche as you can get.” 

The hubby has featured on and off in this blog and I think I have to come up with a better name for him then “the hubby”.  Me thinks that he needs a pirate name.  A good one.  Like Iron Bess’s Man, or Sid the Parrotless, or Frownin Fred, or No Neck Nick.  I think I will try out a few and see how it rolls off the tongue, or the fingers, so to speak.   

So Frownin Fred went out hunting this morning.  Hunting here means sitting in a “blind” (see Bunch of crap leaning against a tree) and waiting quietly, and still, for an unsuspecting Bambi to wander by.  Ha-ha-ha!  If I know one thing about No Neck Nick staying still is not in his vocabulary, his genes, or his jeans.  This is the guy who will work himself to death, whine, snivel, and bitch about it, then when he has about four hours of rest immediately becomes restless and has to go out and build his self a gee-rage, or pour a concrete floor.  I’m thinking that Bambi may possibly be safe this year.  I’m sure he is out there right this minute dreaming of the days in the mountains when he could wander around the bush looking for game.  Sitting there must be killing him.  Poor Sid the Parrotless. 

 

Bess Contemplates Bizarro-Land

I was reading an article earlier this week about a police officer who was turned into the authorities by his estranged wife for planning on abducting, raping, torturing, killing and then eating a bunch of women.  He claims that it was just a fantasy and he wasn't going to act on it but when they seized his computer he had plans laid out, he had used the police records to obtain information about specific women, and he had lists of what he would need to carry out his "fantasy". And the article goes onto to say that there are a community of people on the Internet with those same desires.  A) What the hell kind of fantasy is that?  and 2) I have this theory about why people are so monumentally fucked up these days.  It is because we happen to live in the land of milk and honey.  Well not exactly milk seeing as there are a limited amount of cows wandering around our streets, and honey, well the bees may not be so thrilled knowing that we can eat whatever the hell we want, including each other, and somehow we are coveting their hard worked for supply of food.  And besides why is milk and honey so great anyway?  Why isn't the saying "the land of burgers and iPhones" or "coffee and cake"?  Hmmm, coffee and cake. Yum. 

Where was I again?  Oh yeah fucked up.  Okay so for millions of years mankind wandered around the planet hiding from almost everything (because we haven't exactly been endowed with the best defensive attributes) and looking under rocks for food.  Burger King was when we would stumble on a saber tooth's kill and manage to rip off a chunk of mammoth without becoming dessert.  Heat was huddling together in damp caves, and washing was when someone accidentally fell into the river and made it out without drowning.  So pretty much everyone spent all of their days skulking, stealing, and shivering, this left little time to be an asshole.  Flash forward a few millennium and you have kids who's one job may be to take out the garbage, or load the dishwasher, grown ups who go to work and stare at a computer screen all day, or put widget A into slot B, and you can see how things can go a little sideways.  People are bored and have too much time to indulge in all their bizarro-land fantasies.  Then other people realize that they could make a lot of money by developing games about this weird shit...and the cycle gets worse. 

It is pretty obvious to me how to fix the world's problems.  Scientists need to figure out how to bring back mammoths and saber tooth tigers.  Then instead of guns they could give everyone a spear, put them into a cave, and stripped down to their boxers.  Then poof, no more time to dream about chewing on someone's leg, coveting your neighbour's new car, or being bored on the couch.  People would have to band together for protection so the majority would have a chance at survival.  Pretty quickly the whiners who do not want to work together, or contribute so everyone has decent health care would be kicked out of the community and left as fodder for the beast. 

Well I'm off to fire up my little chainsaw to buck up some wood that got blowed down in the winds.  And I'm pretty sure while I am doing that I will be concentrating on the fact that my back is sore, my arms are aching, and how much this work will help heat Kitpu Estates next winter.  Not once will I be wondering how tasty the hubby's rump roast would be. 

Squeaky

Cleaning day today!  Well every day is a little bit of a cleaning day around these parts it has to be unless you don't mind living in forty feet of dog and cat hair that is.  I'm relatively certain that any calorie that my dog consumes goes directly into making fur for her body.  It has to otherwise the glut of hair covering every square inch of surface in the shack could only have sinister implications.  For instance aliens could be using it as a test to see how long it will be before old Iron Bess goes insane.  Or Satan has a hole leading straight from hell into my house and when the three headed dog sheds too much he just gets his minions to sweep it directly into my house.  Bastard! I knew there was a reason I should hate that asshole.  Fucking aliens.  Fucking Satan. 

My vacuum cleaner always smells like an old wet dog whenever I fire it up even if I had just changed the bag on it the time before.  I am looking forward to the day when we install the built-in vacuum and the air is shunted outside.  Let the neighbours put up with the stink.  The bonus today was that the temperatures were on the warmish side and I was able to open up all the doors and windows and allow the stink to get herded outside by the breezes passing through.  So now instead of dog it smells like fall in here. 

Now that I am done cleaning, and have dinner on the go, I may take some time and brew a pot of coffee and do a little bit of homework.  (I’d go for a walk except it is prime time for hunter madness outside at this time of the day, and seeing as I like my body a little less ventilated I think I will just stick around the premises.) 

A Lot Less Squishy

I just returned from a walk with the hell-houndicus and it is a lot less squishy out there.  The flood waters are receding and the roads/trails are starting to dry out a bit.  So I am pretty much "woo-hoo" about that.  But these days I have to be careful.  You see walking outside at this time of the year means me putting on my walking gear plus a neon orange vest and hat.  Even the houndicus has a glowing orange and yellow vest to wear.  Not only is it fashionable, but it is my paltry attempt at disguising myself as a human being and therefore not good to target practice on.   

You see around these here parts people are a little jumpy and shooty during hunting season.  And hunting season means losing control of all your faculties, going out into the bush, and being trigger happy to the point of thinking that every single object within a forty kilometer radius of your position is a legitimate deer so is filled with so much lead that civilizations for hundreds of years afterward will be sick from all that lead leaching into the drinking supply.  Although even if they did shoot you and got arrested for it they would probably get off because the judge would be all, "Well she was asking for it by going out onto her own property and walking around in the bush dressed up like a neon orange Sasquatch with matching hat.  Had she been more responsible and worn a large flashing sign above her head which read 'Do Not Shoot I Am Not A Deer' and hired a marching band to follow her around playing 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light' wherever she walked then I may have reprimanded you for shooting her."  It's not like there is any rules about being able to clearly see the animal and count the tines on its antlers.  Oh wait a minute....  No wonder the animals, and people, in these here parts are jumpy all year round.  (It's the tainted water.)

I had gone out for a walk just before, Sandy, or Sandzilla, the storm to storm all storms, hit the eastern seaboard and rained on it, and had taken a few pictures.  I really loved the look of the light on the leaves, it made me feel all squiggy inside. and all artsy outside.  I also added one with the hound in her fashionable attire because hey, there really aren't too many pictures a person can take around here without a large moose-like dog running through it.  (Unless of course you actually want the dog in the picture then it would be nowhere to be found.)

Click on to make bigga