Happy (Fucking) Birthday to Me

Today is my 39th birthday.

Which, I’m actually just fine with.   I’m sure next year I’ll have a fit over turning 40, but 39 isn’t bugging me at all.

However.

I mentioned to Baby Girl that I was thinking about getting a nose ring.  She wrinkled up her nose and said, ‘Really?’.

She then informed me that I was not ‘hard core’.   She said I wasn’t the ‘type’ to get a facial piercing.

I’m pretty sure I’m offended, only I can’t figure out exactly how.

My inclination is to join a biker gang and get a tattoo on my forehead that says ‘Pookie’s Bitch’ just to prove how very hard core I am.

Either that or go through with a nose piercing.

Anybody here ever get their nose pierced?  Was it awful? Did it hurt more than, say, a stubbed toe?  Not a regular stubbed toe, but where your pinkie toe hits something in the middle of the night and it feels as though it’s been torn off your foot entirely?

Also, I need to know if boogers get all caught up on the part of the ring that’s inside the nose?  Will I have to learn a whole new nose picking technique?     This shit is important. I need input.

*************

Oh, and today is also Jen’s birthday, so it would make me really happy if y’all were to hop over to her place and wish her a happy birthday too.

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I would like to give a shout out to Lloyd, who in the comments from the last entry, played the work ‘fuck’ like a fucking virtuoso.   He makes the rest of us look like fucking pikers.  The fucker.

Just the facts

Fact 1: Netflix is now offering unlimited instant online viewing to customers who have any but the most basic plan.

Fact 2:  We now have unlimited instant online viewing.

Fact 3:  Heroes (Season 1) is on their instant viewing list.

Fact 4:  I had never watched Heroes before.

Fact 5: It will take roughly 2 1/2 days to watch Heroes (season 1) if you take time out to pee and bitch at your kids.

Fact 6:  I have about 3 hours of Season 1 left and if someone doesn’t fucking kill Sylar already, I am going to lose my shit.

Fact 7:  Mr. Sulu is Hiro’s father.  I know.  I was shocked too.

Fact 8:  Save the Cheerleader.  Save the World.   (ok, not so much a fact, but terribly cool)

Fact 9:  Seriously.  Someone kill Sylar.  I hate that guy.

In other news, I have been gifted with that most precious of commodities: Blog Bling!  Troy at NotWorldFamous has seen my talent for saying ‘fuck’ for no good reason at all and passed this bit of bling to me that he himself had been gifted with because he has a potty mouth too.

What do you think?  It’s me, right?   The funny thing is, Troy linked to an entry where I only cussed a little bit.

I have to get back to Heroes now (Save the Cheerleader!), but I will be posting my own list of those who deserve the F-bomb tomorrow.

How we spent MLK Day

Yesterday, we went down to Shreveport (in Louisiana) to hear Dr. Ron Paul speechify. It was pretty darn impressive, actually.  There was a rumor that he would be coming on Saturday morning, only confirmed on Saturday evening and we still managed to have hundreds of supporters there to welcome Dr. Paul.

It was a pretty awesome experience, especially for Baby Girl as this is her first year voting, and she’s pretty darn fired up.  It was also an awesome experience for Pooter, only he won’t really appreciate how awesome until he’s a little older.

I have pictures!

Pooter shakes Dr. Paul’s hand:

Dr. Paul signs Pooter’s shirt:

Pooter gets bored while Dad and Dr. Paul chat:

What better way to spend MLK day than to see and speak with the man who wants freedom for all of us?

Mother of the Year

Tonight was the American Idol season premiere. I think the judges deserve combat pay. I couldn’t listen to that much bad singing without shooting somebody, probably myself.

So, anyway, this evening, Baby Girl and I were watching, and as the show went to a break, Ryan Seacrest promised us all sorts of bad singing and drama after the break.

I said, “I’m scared and excited all at the same time! Kind of like the first time I had ear sex.”

I thought for a second that Baby Girl was going to choke to death. I’m sure she was thinking, wait, FIRST time? WTF, mate!?.

I then said, ‘I think I did it wrong though. I never did hear him coming’.

And then, after she finished choking and coughing, she told me how much she hated me.

Are there any sweeter words to a mother’s ear? I don’t think so.

I think I finally got her back for this.

It took me long enough.

Have a Coke and a smile

The most offensive Coke ad ever aired.   I’m outraged!  Or I will be as soon as I stop snickering.

Happy Monday, fuckers!

Headlines. Yes, again.

What are you doing here?- man asks wife at brothel They’re getting divorced now, after 14 years of marriage. I don’t think it was so much that his wife was a whore, I think it was more that she was gonna charge him double.

Bird dog steps on gun; kills  hunter Man’s best friend my ass. Dog claims it was an accident. Authorities contend that the dog wanted the M&M’s in his owner pocket and would stop at nothing to get them.

Sleeping Australian run over by train and lives Says he plans to quit drinking. And to stop falling asleep on train tracks. And to stop being an idiot.

Woman lived for months with dead partner He wasn’t really dead. It was all a joke. Every time she came near, he’d hold his breath and decay a little.

Man allegedly sets cash on fire near Dad Apparently, it was supposed to be the other way around. For first time ever, Dad is glad son is such a fuck up.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

I wish Mr. and Mrs. Bran would start paying child support already

Edited to add:  Apparently its Delurking Day.  Which means y’all are supposed to stop lurking for one day and leave a comment.  I would suggest you leave your comments succinct as possible to keep it relatively painless for you.  Something like, ‘Bite me’ or ‘Leave Britney alone!’.

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming:

Pooter: Hey, Mom. Did you know that you and Dad aren’t my real parents?

Me (mental audio recording begun): Oh, really?

P: Yep.

Me (feeling as though perhaps he should elaborate just a smidge): Um. Well, who are your real parents?

P: Uh. Well. My Mom’s name is Sprayer. (eyeing plant spray bottle just over my left shoulder)

Me: I see. And what is your real father’s name?

P: His name is Raisin Bran. (also, in a huge coincidence, his favorite cereal, which is sitting in top of the fridge)

Me: Well. Do you have any real brothers or sisters?

P: Yes! My brother’s name is Army and my sister’s name is Cup.

Me: Where does your real family live?

P: Oh, we live in Texas. We have a brown house. It’s nice.

Me: Oh, what’s your address?

P: (says our address)

Me: That sounds so familar.

He also has a whole other dog named Lily at his other house, who apparently looks and acts just like our dog named Lily.

I was tempted to ask if old Sprayer was prettier than me, but I figured that would just be setting myself up for a fall.

*****

For some reason, after having largely ignored American Idol for all these years I started watching last season’s re-runs about halfway through. (Could someone please explain to me why Melinda Dolittle didn’t win? Don’t get me wrong. I loves me some Jordin, but Melinda is just a force of nature. The most humble, polite force of nature ever.)

Now I am absolutely slavering for the new season.

Oh, and except for his moobies, I think Simon Cowell is hot.

With any luck, he’ll get misunderestimated right into the White House

As many of you may know, Fox News refused to allow Dr. Ron Paul to participate in the debate aired night before last.

Jay Leno didn’t think that was fair and he promptly called Dr. Paul and asked him to come on The Tonight Show.

Here are the videos of that interview:

The intro:

Interview Part 1:

Interview Part 2:

How was your weekend?

Man, that was awesome.  Taking off a couple days from blogging, I mean.  I feel refreshed, rejuvenated, renewed and many other words beginning in ‘re’.

I had a funny night’s sleep though.  My cell phone kept chirping to tell me it was dying a really slow death and I couldn’t figure out what that noise was in the 2 seconds I was awake.   I don’t know what time it finally died for good, but I hope it was painful.

I also had the itchiest nose in the world last night.  I mean, I haven’t called Guiness in to quantify my claim, but it certainly felt like the itchiest nose in the world.

*****

I hear Britney got carted off after a set-to with, well, just about everybody.  Of course, a very reliable source says she wasn’t hopped up on drugs or alcohol.  That would mean she’s just regular crazy and not chemically enhanced crazy.   Regular crazy is scarier.

In related news, Dr. Phil hasn’t had his name in the papers lately, so he had to weigh in on the Britney issue.    Dude, just shut the fuck up.

*****

If you need a laugh this Monday morning, go here.  If you don’t end up laughing out loud, your soul is blacker than Dr. Phil’s.

He went after those three mice next, the sick bastard (an encore)

If this post looks familiar to you, it’s because it’s a rerun.  That’s right, I’m recycling old posts even though it’s no longer Nabloholodailies.  But there are probably lots of lovely people who haven’t bothered to delve into my archives who would like to read this.  Because it’s all dramatical and shit.

I do think I’ve proven that I don’t HAVE to post, what with it having been more than 24 hours (technically) since I posted.  So bite me, Mandy Lou and Pookie!  

So, anyway, enjoy the story! 

So, this one time, at band camp, my brother stabbed me in the face. Ok, so it wasn’t band camp, it was our living room, but my brother did indeed stab me in the face.

About an 1/8 of an inch from my eyeball, to be exact. That’s right, I was almost BLINDED whilst being stabbed in the FACE by my BROTHER (be honest, y’all. Do the caps make it all that much more dramatic or are they just a pain in the ass?)

Anyway, one day, way back in 1978, when I was about 9 years old and my brother Joel was about 15, we were play fighting. He was pretending to try to stab me and I was pretending to fight him off.

(Okay, one of the reasons I took so long to tell this story is that I cannot figure out how to tell it without my brother coming across as a vaguely retarded psychopath. I assure you, he is neither. However, I will concede that he was a huge dumbass who should have known better. In fact, he’s still a dumbass, but he hasn’t tried to stab anyone in years.)

So, anyway, we were playing and he was holding his old (rusty!) pocketknife over me. I, in turn, was holding his arm and hollering my head off (because that’s what you do when someone is trying to stab you. I still have a finely tuned sense of drama)

Now, he wasn’t exerting any pressure on my arm; he wasn’t actually attempting to stab me, but he wasn’t holding his arm’s weight up either. So when I let go of his arm and went to get up, his arm fell and the knife landed very close to my left eye.

To be truthful, I didn’t even know I was injured until my brother’s face went white and he told me that I was bleeding.

We lived way out in the country then and had no phone. My mother was either at work or at school when this occurred and Joel was responsible for the rest of us. Which is rather hilarious, if you think about it.

Anyway, the closest phone available to us was at the little mom and pop store down the road from our house. So Joel slapped a paper towel or something over my eye, picked me up and started to run down the road, with my other brothers running alongside.

He ran until he couldn’t carry me anymore (about 200 feet, the pussy), put me down and told me I was going to have to run. Which I did, because to be honest, the blood running down my face was really starting to freak me out.

We get to the little store and the sweet little old people there assure us that I am fine and then call my mother and assure her that I am fine and then hand out Hershey Bars and Cokes to all of us.

Now, I called Joel this evening to get his memories of it and he was hopped up on muscle relaxers because his back went out. Karma? Oh yes.

He said he didn’t remember there being any blood. I asserted that this perception was due to his guilty conscience over having STABBED ME IN THE FACE, and if there hadn’t been blood, why in fuck had we run down the road to get help. He conceded my point.

Anyway, I told him that he was lucky that Mom hadn’t killed him. He replied that he was lucky he hadn’t killed me. I told that wasn’t likely but that I was very glad he hadn’t poked my eye out as it would have totally lessened my attractiveness to the opposite sex. Then he said something vaguely dirty about my possible popularity as the one-eyed girl.

I think it’s obvious that neither one of us learned a lesson from this, don’t you?