Bang, Bang, My Baby Shot Me Down

X-man posted his thoughts on gun control in a very passionate post. I don't necessarily agree with his views, but far be it for me to tell him that he's wrong. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, much like the right to bear arms. I suspect you can take that or leave it as well.

I used to be a strong advocate of gun control for a couple days before I thought about it. Whenever there is a shooting of the magnitude of Virginia Tech, or even small-scale like Ward Parkway, the first knee-jerk reaction is to ban the guns. Take all the guns away, and the world can leave in peace, harmony and unicorns.

So, pass more laws. Make the wait time longer, the screening process more stringent, have more classes and training for those who want to own. Set the bar higher for law-abiding citizens to obtain a gun. I have no issues with that. In fact, I would even support legislation barring anyone with a mental illness from owning a firearm. Harsh, maybe. Infringe on the privacy of one's medical records, perhaps. I'm perfectly okay with that.

Maybe if laws were in place that prohibited Schizophrenic Stanley from buying a gun, Virginia Tech and Ward Parkway could have been avoided. Actually, they probably would have been avoided if assholes in government wouldn't have slashed funding to mentally ill treatment and programs so people like Cho and Logsdon could have gotten proper help, instead of finding their therapy in a hail of gunfire.

But what about those people who get guns without going through the proper channels? Those with felonies who also happen to own one. Drug dealers? I'm sure they are not registered (unless they are registered sex offenders). I'm pretty confident most those people bought their guns from some dumbass who sells them from the trunk of his car, his main source of income while he's trying to get his rap career off the ground. Pass thousands of gun control laws, and these people will still be able to buy guns as easily as I can go to Hi-Vee and buy a loaf of bread.

Not everyone is gun-owner material. Owning a gun is an immense responsibility. Just because the constitution says we can, doesn't mean we have to. I grew up around guns, my father was an avid hunter and sportsman. My brothers and I were brought up with the clear understanding of what they meant, what they could do...complete with a reverent demeanor when we were handling them (i.e. no clowning around). My brothers own guns. I do not (but I have been through gun safety classes anyway). It's a personal choice we all must make, but not a choice we have to force upon everyone else.

We do need gun control, but focus on the ones who shouldn't have them, and not the law-abiding citizens who do. We also need to remember personal accountability and that guns don't kill people, people kill people. Take away all the guns in the world, people will still be murdered in senseless acts of violence. People will have to find something else to blame instead of blaming it on the asshat that caused it. We've turned into a nation of pussies with no personal responsibility. A country of victims, and it makes me ill.

Proof That Kansas Citians Can Be Just As Crazy As Everyone Else

I woke up from my nap and discovered that there's a shooting going on at Ward Parkway Mall. I was just there a couple weeks ago when I took a friend to buy flip-flops to wear for his injured foot. My first thought...this is going to make for a fun night at work. Money says press will be camped out in the lobby when I go in tonight. Fun. For. Us.

Without knowing the specifics, I can only guess about the nature of the shooting. Some fucktard with a gun who thinks the only way to make his mark on the world is to open fire in a public place.

I blame the idiots in the media for sensationalizing this crap. I blame NBC for assaulting us with visions of that crazy asshat responsible for the Virginia Tech shootings two seconds after the last victim fell. Simple-minded peons now know how to get their faces on every major network without having to go through mindless auditions for crappy reality shows.

I'm sure Kay "Where's Waldo" Barnes is finally getting her wish of Kansas City center-stage of national attention. I'm also fairly certain that this isn't what she had in mind.

Sad and Hysterical at the Same Time

I have a Myspace page...and it's not very exciting. I did manage to find a few people I went to high school with, which was good, because now I'm hoping that someone will tell me when the next reunion is, and I don't have to hear about it after the fact.

Anyway...

Sometimes, when I am bored, I will do just a general search...of people I went to college with, of people who work where I work. The other night, lo and behold, I stumbled across my Bosshole's Myspace page. And I thought my page was lame...sheesh.

The dude has no friends. NO FRIENDS! Not even that Tom guy who appears whenever you set up an account. Tom is everyone's friend, but Tom is not Bosshole's friend. Bosshole has zero friend count. How sad is that?

He has some pics, and he looked like a scrawny geek in high school...and I felt sorry for him for, like, two seconds. Something tells me he was beat up a lot, or at least a swirly or two. I also get the feeling that he could easily kick my ass at video games.

(I'm still working on interview questions, so for those who requested it, I haven't forgotten about you...)

The Big Five from the Big D

So...my secret blog boyfriend, The D, had this interview thing that he picked up...and as with most things you just happen to pick up, it was contagious and I caught it. I invited him to interview me in the same manner he was interviewed. Would he have the guts to ask the hard-hitting questions? You decide.

1. You’re a nurse more specifically you’re a cardiac nurse. Why did you decide on nursing as a profession and why a cardiac nurse as opposed to an ER or some other specialty?
My original plan was to be a band teacher or an English teacher. I loved music (I kicked major ass playing drums) and I loved to write. My family life was so crappy, that I would just hide in my room and write...short stories, long stories, or just journal about how crappy my family life was. It gave me an escape from said crappy life, not to mention it cut down on the time I had to deal with an alcoholic and sometimes inappropriate father.

I wish I could say that I was called to nursing by some great and benevolent agenda. After my dad died, becoming a nurse seemed a sensible choice. I would always have a job no matter where I went, it paid well, and I was good at it. Sometimes I make a difference. Sometimes, what I do is in vain. Sometimes, people get well and go on to be happy and productive. Other times, patients might get a little better, then go out in the world and resume the same shithead habits and I see them a month or two later...and it's back to square one. I come to one great and universal truth. The good die young and they are missed. The assholes live forever with the singular purpose of making my job a nightmare. The ones who are grateful are few and far between. Everyone else is just looking for a reason to sue so they don't have to work again.

In my perfect world, I would love to work more with transplants. People who give the gift of life and those who are blessed. I have been fortunate to be able to stand on all sides: to be asked to give that gift (which I ignorantly declined...a decision I regret each day), to see the skilled hands that make this happen (I got to stand in on an organ retrieval), and to see what happens when a person receives that second chance at life (through the experiences of my best friend, Kathryn). However, to work in such a field requires experience in certain fields: cardiac, critical care, etc. This is why I work where I work. I love my place of employment, but I hate the floor I work on. It's a means to an end. I'm not an adrenaline junkie, which is why I stay far away from the ER.

Truth be told, my first love is, and always will be, writing.

2. Why did you start blogging? What makes you keep doing it?
I have journaled for as long as I can remember. My church is big into journaling and keeping records, so that was a no-brainer. I started writing on legal notepads, then graduated to bound journals I bought at Office Max when I could afford it. I have volumes stored away that I like to go back and read. It's funny to go back and read about things I thought dire ten years ago, only to see them as stupid. I was such a dumbass in my younger years.

I started this blog a few years ago, wrote a couple posts, then just sort of forgot about it. It wasn't until Kant and her family started blogging that I got back in the saddle. I've not written in my journals since, but instead just blogged. I haven't come to that point where I am completely open in my blog, as I was when I journaled. I should be, but I am a big, fat chickenshit. Maybe someday I will be brave.

Everyone should journal in one form or another. It's your own personal history, and it's far more interesting than the regurgitated information you read in some boring history book. Sometimes, I wonder what my posterity will think of me when they read my writings. Probably that I am, indeed, a dumbass.

3. Have you ever punched, not slapped, a guy, (family does not count) in the face? Why? Be specific.
I've punched a guy in the gut, and that was once. The unfortunate recipient of my wrath was my dad in one moment of impropriety. Finally sick of the gross overtures, I socked him one. He left me alone after that. Alcoholics are nasty people.

I did throw a roller skate at a boyfriend of mine once when I was 16. It clocked him in the head. He made the mistake of punching me, I guess to show that he was the man or some lame bullshit like that. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the first time he had ever hit a girl. I'm also pretty sure that my reaction was completely different that the others. I jumped to my feet, screamed, "YOU SONOFABITCH!" and tore after him, grabbing the first thing I could scoop up...which happened to be his roller skate. He ran away from me like I was brandishing a big knife. I hurled the skate at him before he had a chance to make it to his room, and it turns out I can throw pretty well.

I immediately broke up with him and started dating another loser.

I've never punched a guy in the face, but if I did, it would totally clean his clock because I've got it like that. You grow up in a house full of boys, you learn to fight like one. No sissy girl fighting for me!!

4. You seem to go on a lot of cruises or at least you have been on more than one. Why cruises? What’s the appeal to you? Convince us (your readers) that we should go on a cruise? Why not just fly to each of these destinations? Would you go on an Alaskan cruise?
For as long as I could remember, I had always wanted to go on a cruise, and it has nothing to do with watching the Love Boat. The time came when I could actually afford to go, so I took Kant with me. I was hooked. I love the idea that my hotel room goes with me no matter where I go. That I can visit many places in one week, to see which places I like better than others so I can return to them for longer visits (by plane). I have been to Belize, Roatan(my favorite), Grand Cayman, St. Thomas, Tortola, Cozumel, Antigua(second favorite), San Juan, and Costa Maya just with the three cruises I have been on. I love the feel of the sea air on my face, the smell, and the sound of the waves as I am sitting on my balcony. I don't really go to the shows, and I don't go because of the food (although some of it is quite good). For the money, cruising is the way to go, and it can be anything you want it to be. It can be romantic, it can be one great big party, it can be relaxing, or it can be all of the above (although I can't personally speak on the romance part...I'm still working on that one.) Not to mention, it's nice having people cater to you for a week...beds made, meals cooked, drinks served.

Because of my love for cruising, I have met a great group of people with my adventures, and I now cruise with them as part of the Cruise Fools. I've booked my forth cruise with them for next year. You should check it out. Great rates, good times, and awesome friends to be found there. Maybe we can even cruise together!

I'd love to take an Alaskan cruise, and someday I will. Right now, I'm all about the Caribbean sun, the turquoise waters, and trying to get scuba lessons done so I can go exploring down where it's hotter, under de water.

5. Money is no object. You have unlimited funds. You have to buy one person one gift. Who is that person? What would you get them? You will never be able to get this person another gift ever.
My mother loves the Caribbean (I turned her into a cruise junkie). I guess I would buy her an island of her very own with all the trimmings...including her own private plane. It's an all-inclusive gift. That way, I can go visit her whenever I want. When I retire, I can go open up my own day spa and live out my days while the rest of civilization destroys itself. In the end, everyone wins.


So, that is the end of my interview. I must say, I expected much tougher questions. So, now I am going to pay this forward and I get to interview someone. Here are the rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.” (If I don't have your email address, leave it in the comment section or click on my profile and send me an email)

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. You will not be able to interview me.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Three Blind Mice

That is the song the ice cream truck plays as it drives up and down my street. Every. Single. Day.

I remember being a kid and almost pissing myself when the ice cream man drove around the neighborhood, and I wasn't alone in my sentiments. If it happened once a week, we considered ourselves blessed. No, I think it is safe to say that he maybe came around once a month. Boy, when he did, the entire neighborhood would whip themselves into a frenzy. We'd stop whatever we were doing and race home to beg and plead with our parents to give us some money so we could go buy something...anything.

"HURRY, MOM. THE ICE CREAM MAN IS DRIVING AWAAYYYYYY!!!!"

Sometimes, we would get money. Sometimes, Mom would fish around in the freezer for some ice cream confection she bought at the grocery store. While reasonable adults would say it's the same damn thing, children would argue that it's not. It was totally and completely different.

For one thing, ice cream from home didn't have all those ice crystals on it the way the stuff from the ice cream man did. Which is funny because a lot of crap that has been sitting in my freezer for months has the same ice crystals on it. Go figure.

In my old age, I have come to view the ice cream truck with a certain degree of scrutiny. Not to mention that the song annoys the piss out of me as I can't seem to get it out of my head long after the truck has gone. He drives by everyday, and I have yet to see the flock of children come storming out of their houses like they had been shot out of a cannon.

I also secretly think that people who drive ice cream trucks are child molesters or something. See...told you I was getting old. Stay away from the Ice Cream Man, kiddies. He's got a secret stash of porn hidden under the orange dreamsicles.

Three Blind Mice...Three Blind Mice...

A Night of Toys, Lube, and Chocolate

Ordinarily, this would qualify as a perfect date for me. However, this is the night I hosted a party. I don't know what you would call it...Toy Party, Naughty Party. Most people know it as Passion Party, but that is a brand name, and this party was done by Edible Ecstasy. More importantly, it was brought to us by Michelle.

I met Michelle at the blogger meet-up, and I liked her right away. So, I felt good about having her come to my house without worrying about being knocked unconscious by a two foot pink jelly dong, and waking up to a cleaned out house.

(The jelly dong does exist, and you could very well knock someone unconscious with it...just so you know.)

My mother came over early to help me with preparations. She found the inflatable sheep I took with me on the cruise (it was party of a slumber party theme activity our group had on the ship) and inflated it. A strong margarita in her system, and she starts dry humping the sheep until I yell at her for doing in front of my very big, very open to the neighborhood, bay window. Luckily, Michelle happened to drive by my house at that moment, so natually she knew it was my house.

Did I mention the neighbor kids were riding their bikes on the street in front of my house at the same time?

My standing in the neighborhood is falling faster than Bush's approval ratings, I just know it.

Others arrive at my party, and they feast on the lavish chocolate fondue spread I have prepared. I love fondue. I made a delicious chocolate turtle fondue with caramel and nuts. I had strawberries, pineapple, brownies, pound cake, and raspberries for dipping.

Michelle gives a presentation of some of things we can purchase. We sample various lubes, lotions, and oils. Marvel at small vibrators. Oohh at the rabbits. Stare in a combination of horror and wonder at the two-foot pink double-ended jelly dong.

And I, being a student of the Kama Sutra, am loving every minute of it. If I had to do it all over again, I would have been a sex therapist. Dr. Ruth would be out of a job.

At the end, Michelle takes orders from my party goers, most of whom are more than willing to share what they ordered, which sort of takes me by surprised because I am not used to women being that open about their toys.

I'm not saying what I ordered, but I will say I got a pretty sweet discount from hosting the party, not to mention some fun freebies.

Michelle did a great job, and it was tons of fun. Book your party with her today!!

A Meeting of the Minds

I went to the Meet and Greet, and predictably...I was late. So, I missed out meeting X-Man, Emaw, and a couple others that left before I even got there.

However, you bitches that didn't show (and you know who you are!)...you owe me a drink!!

Everyone seemed really nice. I was turned on to a couple blogs I hadn't really read before, but will be reading from now on. It's refreshing to know that in a city full of idiots, you can find more than one person who can string together sentences to form intelligent conversation. I was also struck by meeting people who actually knew what was going on in Kansas City government, and were pissed off enough to want to change it.

I didn't have much to say because there was so much to listen to, and I was just taking it all in. Like a buffet for my ears! Maybe next time I will have something clever to say...like enlightening tales of patients who drink their own urine.

Tax Day

As a rule, Tax Day sucks. I have friends who are getting back THOUSANDS, and I get a measly hundred. But then, they have kids, a house, and are going to school.

Today, I went to the bank to deposit a check that Paul (not dating!) gave me for stuff I paid for on the cruise, minus what I owed him for stuff he paid for on the cruise, not to mention the yellow garbage bags his nephews are selling for school fundraiser.

I'm permanently in love with the yellow garbage bags. I can't possibly envision a life without yellow garbage bags in it. That's how you know it's love, people.

Feeling rather industrious, I busted out the ol' Toro and mowed the front lawn. I mulched the big pile of leaves on the side of the house and deposited two more big bags with the other bags that the city failed to pick up on Leaf Day...which makes a total of five bags of mulched leaves, twigs and prickly balls. Just by looking at the back yard, I'd say there is probably at least five more bags of work to do back there.

So, I've decided to go to the KC Blogger Meet and Greet. The Pitch be damned. I'm looking forward to meeting some of my favorite bloggers (showcased in the right column of this blog). It should be fun.

But I am NOT eating a fried bologna sandwich!!!

Annoyed and Hungry

Eating a meal should never, ever be complicated.

I spoke with Paul (not dating!) last night, and I suggested breakfast when I got off work because I was a tard and forgot to bring a lunch. Not that I could have eaten a lunch if I wanted to. I was busy all night. I busted a patient eating Fig Newtons when he should have not been eating anything at all in prep for a test. Honestly, if you are going to be a rebel and buck the medical system, can't you think of something better than a Fig Newton??

At any rate, Paul said "call me in the morning and we'll see..." So, after I was finished with report, I called. He suggested lunch instead. Okay...at least I can go home and take a nap first.

So, I go home, cart heavy bags of mulched leaves to the curb and then fall into bed. I wake up an hour after my alarm is supposed to go off (for some reason, it doesn't). I call Paul and leave a message. He calls back a little later, already out and about running errands. "How about dinner instead?"

Paul: I have a hankering for Mexican. Know any?

Me: I'm sure I can drive around and find one mowing a lawn or something.

Paul: Very funny. What's a good place?

Me: I'm only familiar with what's around work and what's north of the river. Where are you at?

Paul: 119th street

Me: I don't know any Mexican restaurants there.

Silence ensues as dinner is pondered.

Me: Well?

Paul: I'm still here.

Me: Did you decide?

Paul: No... What about Chili's?

Me: (thinking about all that grease) No...I'm not feeling Chili's...What happened to Mexican? Why not Salty Iguana?

More silence...

Me: Hello??

Paul: I'm still here.

Me: Have you decided??

Paul: Not really. I'm hungry.

Me: What are you doing?

Paul: Just driving...

Me: What about Houlihans?

Paul: That's an option...

Me: Where are you at?

Paul: Closer to 135th

Me: WHAAAT! You're driving AWAY?

Paul: Uh-huh.

Me: The further you drive means more time I have to drive to get there AND I have to drive on 435 through evening traffic. AND my hair is still wet.

Paul: There's On The Border.

Me: I hate On The Border. They put onions in everything.

Paul: You're picky.

Me: And you're indecisive. Just pick a place! What happened to Houlihans??

Paul: Dunno. Maybe I should stop at a drive-thru. I'm hungry and I don't want to wait.

Me: Do you want to just go home?

Paul: I don't want you to drive in all that traffic.

Me: (clearly annoyed) Just say you don't want to have dinner, and don't feed me any lines.

Paul: There's a lot of traffic...

Me: Grrrr.

Paul: How about a rain check?

Me: If you're lucky...

So, it is finalized that the meal that has been in the planning stages all day has been cancelled due to an impasse. I'm pretty cranky because I haven't eaten since yesterday (unless you count a Rice Crispy treat another nurse brought in).

Some hours later, and I am still fuming.

I'm going to go have an egg sandwich.

Queen of Procrastination and Other Blather

A long weekend at work capped off by a code blue that I somehow missed because I was in a room doing other things. I'm sort of glad I missed it...I hate codes.

Taxes due tomorrow, and I have yet to do them. I'm pretty sure I know where the paperwork is. Maybe I will just file an extension so I can procrastinate even more. My return won't be stellar, but that could change next year because of the whole house-thing.

When I went to bed this morning, the news reports from Virginia Tech's shooting said three people dead. I wake up and now it's 33. What the hell is wrong with people?!? Now that this is going to be in the news on every single station, the whole Don Imus thing is going to become pretty dead. I bet Al Sharpton is going to be pissed, unless he can put some sort of spin on the situation and make it all about race. Famewhore!!

I think I may attend the KC Blogger Meet and Greet tomorrow evening. I said I would buy The D a belated birthday drink. I don't have anything else to do tomorrow night anyway.

Today was supposed to have been Leaf Day, but I look out the window and see the bags of leaves still sitting in front of my house. I'm not alone...bundles of sticks and bags of leaves spot the entire landscape of my neighborhood. I wonder what happened. I wonder if those asshats that work for the city forgot about Leaf Day. They better come pick this crap up. I'll be damned if I am going to cart those heavy bitches back to my storage shed.

At Last!!

I have finally found a name for those little prickly bastards all over my back yard. Sweet Gum Balls...hailing from a Sweet Gum Tree. Apparently, they produce pretty leaves, particularly in the fall, in addition to those annoying little balls that fall to the ground.

Two fully grown Sweet Gum trees in my yard = hundreds, if not thousands, of prickly balls in my back yard.

Monday is Leaf day. I have to have all my bags of leaves out front for the garbage man to pick up. I'm limited to twenty bags. I've got five bags so far, and a shit ton of leaves and those annoying balls still laying around the back yard. With all the rain, not to mention cold, I haven't been able to go outside and finish the job. So, this could mean I just put what I have out on Monday, collect the rest and keep it stored in my shed until the next Leaf day...which won't be until the fall.

Meanwhile, the grass seed I spread is sprouting...sparsely. At some point, I'm going to have to break out the mower and trim my new grass...which will be the equivalent of trimming the five remaining hairs left on a bald man's head. Just a trim, mind you. I wouldn't want the yard (or the guy's head) to look bald.

I can't wait for the weather to get back to normal so I can resume work on the yard. It looks so bad right now, if there were a rusted out car sitting there, it would all look appropriate.

Nevermind!! Found a Translator!!

This paper was turned in by an Oakland High school student who received the highest honors at the school district’s Ebonics translation competition.

Assignment: Please translate the following Rap song lyrics from Ebonics to standard English.
Artist: Notorious B.I.G.
Album: Ready to Die
Song: One more chance (remix)



Lyrics:
First things first, I poppa, freaks all the honeys
Dummies - playboy bunnies, those wantin’ money
Those the ones I like ‘cause they don’t get nathan’
But penetration, unless it smells like sanitation
Garbage, I turn like doorknobs
Heart throb, never, black and ugly as ever
However, I stay coochied down to the socks
Rings and watch filled with rocks

TRANSLATION:
As a general rule, I perform deviant sexual acts with women of all kinds, including but not limited to those with limited intellect, nude magazine models, and prostitutes. I particularly enjoy sexual encounters with the latter group as they are generally disappointed in the fact that they only receive penile intercourse and nothing more, unless of course, they douche on a consistent basis. Although I am extremely unattractive, I am able to engage in these types of sexual acts with some regularity. Perhaps my sexuality is somehow related to my fancy and expensive jewelry.


Lyrics:
And my jam knock in the Mitsubishi
Girls pee pee when they see me, Nava-hoes creep me in they tee pee
As I lay down laws like I lay carpet
Stop it - if you think your gonna make a profit

TRANSLATION:
I enjoy playing my music loudly on my car stereo. Apparently, women enjoy this also because they become sexually aroused when they see me driving. Oddly enough, when I visit the Native American reservations, some of the more sexually promiscuous Indian women attempt to seduce me in their homes. Their intent is to divest me of my earnings. Such actions are unacceptable.


Lyrics:
Don’t see my ones, don’t see my guns - get it
Now tell ya friends Poppa hit it then split it
In two as I flow with the Junior Mafia
I don’t know what the hell’s stoppin’ ya
I’m clockin’ ya - Versace shades watchin’ ya
Once ya grin, I’m in game, begin

TRANSLATION:
Understand this fact: you can have neither my money, nor my weapons. I suggest that you inform your peers that we engaged in violent sexual acts. Currently, I am rapping with my associates, the Junior Mafia. I’m having some difficulty understanding why you refuse to approach me. I am attempting to make eye contact with you through my expensive glasses, and as soon as you respond with a smile, I will approach you.


Lyrics:
First I talk about how I dress and this
And diamond necklaces - stretch Lexuses
The sex is just immaculate from the back I get
Deeper and deeper - help ya reach the
Climax that your man can’t make
Call and tell him you’ll be home real late
Let’s sing the break

TRANSLATION:
I prefer to open the conversation with light banter about my wardrobe and jewelry, then I like to discuss my collection of expensive cars. This is more than enough to convince you to have sexual intercourse with me. I am able to insert my penis further into you when I enter you from behind. Furthermore, you will be able to reach orgasm. I understand this to be a problem with your current sexual partner. He needn’t be concerned about your whereabouts. Please phone him and inform him that you won’t be home for a while. By the way, please sing the chorus of the song for me also.


Lyrics:
She’s sick of that song on how it’s so long
Thought he worked his until I handled my biz
There I is - major pain like Damon Wayans
Low down dirty even like his brother Keenan
Schemin’ - don’t bring your girl ‘round me
True player for real, ask Puff Daddy

TRANSLATION:
Your current love interest no longer wishes to hear your fabrications about the length of your member. After I had sexual intercourse with your woman, she became enlightened as to the proper way it is supposed to be performed; violently and immorally. It would be in your best interest to keep your woman away from me as my sexual prowess is very strong. If you are unconvinced, ask Puff Daddy.


Lyrics:
You - ringin’ bells with bags from Chanel
Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel
Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell
She beeped me, meet me at twelve

TRANSLATION:
Despite the fact that you attempted to win her at her doorstep with bags full of expensive clothes and a car (the lower end model Mercedes Benz which you financed by signing over your current vehicle) containing an expensive stereo and a cellular phone, your woman has contacted me through my pager indicating that we should rendezvous at midnight.


Lyrics:
Where you at? Flippin’ jobs, playin’ car notes?
While I’m swimmin’ in ya women like the breast stroke
Right stroke, left stroke what’s the best stroke
Death stroke - tongue all down her throat
Nuthin’ left to do but send her home to you
I’m through - can ya sing the song for me, boo?

TRANSLATION:
You, on the other hand, jump from job to job, barely able to maintain payments on the Mercedes Benz you purchased for your woman. Meanwhile, I continue to engage in sexual intercourse and commit lewd osculatory acts with your women. My only remaining option is to request that she leave my home and return to you because I have reached orgasm and no longer have a need for her presence.


Lyrics:
So, what’s it gonna be? Him or me?
We can cruise the world with pearls
Gator boots for girls
The envy of all women, crushed linen
Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in ‘em
The finest women I love with a passion
Ya man’s a wimp, I give that ass a good thrashin’

TRANSLATION:
The ultimate decision rests with you. Whom do you choose as your sexual partner. I can take you on cruises around the world. I will dress you in the finest jewelry and footwear. You will be envied by women worldwide in your fine clothes and jewelry. There is a special place in my heart for beautiful women. I will defeat your man in an altercation because he is effeminate.


Lyrics:
High fashion - flyin’ into all states.
Sexin’ me while your man masturbates.
Isn’t this great? Your flight leaves at eight.
Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds.
Lyrically I’m supposed to represent.
I’m not only the client, I’m the player president

TRANSLATION:
You will be dressed in finest clothes on the runways of Paris. I will fly you to every state to shop for fine clothes and jewelry. You will enjoy sexual intercourse with me and your man will be forced to pleasure himself through manual stimulation. What a life! I’ll return you to LaGuardia in time to catch your 8 o’clock flight. The timing is perfect because I have scheduled a date with a second woman who arrives at the same gate at 9 o’clock. I’ll seduce her in the same way that I seduced you. I rap well and I am a positive reflection of my home town. Not only am I a sexually deviant, misogynistic, immoral, wealthy, male prostitute, but I also sit on the board of directors of the organization that governs others of my kind.

Need a Translator!

You owe a nigga? You don't wanna pay him?

Kill him, that's what they said ta ta disappear him

Y'all ain't got to believe me

When I'm done with this rhyme if theres time I'll hit a flick

Wit Mariella this connect bitch, Peruvian chick

She ain't hot but everytime I fuck the coke right drops

When it's time to get it on (what)

I pull over the thong (uh huh)

Fuck till I nut then get up, I'm gone (yeah)

Usualy hit it watchin tele way out in L.A.

I like it when she say "Papi I feel it in my Belly"

Call up all my niggaz in New York on the celly

First thing I'm sayin is "Nigga what da deally"

Pack a trey pound up under my Pelle Pelle

Y'all niggaz want war, clap clap, Oh really?

I watch niggaz slang packs in front of the deli

Got 20 inch chrome sittin on my perili

Lorenzo on the Benzo nigga you feel me?

50 Cent "You Ain't No Gangsta"

Get a blunt, roll the weed, light it up nigga,

Sipping on Gin and Juice fill up your cups nigga,

The Westcoast back crackin' like it's 94',

So bitch get on your knees and give me head like it's 94',

And don't come up for air 'til the beat drop,

I'm the Doctors Advocate call it a sneak peak,

at the mudafukn Detox, take note grab a pen,

And let the world know the west is ridin' again,

I Graduated from Dre's school top of my class,

Treat my switches like my bitches got me dropping that ass,

Still bangin' the chronic like doggiestyle came with it,

And I roll a sticky on my bitch back while I hit it,

I done been there, done that, had beefs and won that,

5 million records on 1 plaque I hung that,

Still got Dr. Dre low ridin' in the 64',

When you see us, throw it up for the fukin' Westcoast.

The Game "California Vacation"

Now you know and I know

Rule number one, you can't trust no ho

Now you can get caught up in the mix real fast

The ho gon' slip away and get away with all your cash

You got to stay upon your toes when it come to hos

I bust a brand new ho in every video

That's on the Pound and the Row when the wind blow

I pass a ho to my kinfolk

and then smoke

She say she was no groupie, coochie lookin juicy

She say she never ate a dick before but she gon' do me

Right before she do me, I blaze up a lupi

then turn on some Snoopy and, uhh, heat up jacuzzi

and later on I might just turn on a movie

so you can regroupie and redo me just for Snoopy

Snoop Dogg "Groupie"

"That's some nappy-headed hos there. I'm gonna tell you that now, man, that's some -- woo. And the girls from Tennessee, they all look cute, you know, so, like -- kinda like -- I don't know."

Don Imus: Imus in the Morning, April 4, 2007

Thank GOD they fired Don Imus. This sexist and racist pig was the biggest wrench in the machine of equality for all mankind. Had he not been fired, I'm confident that he would set the women's movement back 50 years. Lord only knows what he would have done to the African American population.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Farewell to a Good Lady

I was checking my email when a friend and fellow cruiser emailed me info about a possible excursion for my next cruise. Then, her last lines were along the lines of "...I'm going on a cruise in June to spread CeCe's ashes."

What!?! Way to tell me a friend died. I had to look in the Star's obit section to find out when...March 30th.

You might say that if I was such a friend, why didn't I know when it happened? CeCe was a lady I used to work with. She was quirky, but she was always nice, and I considered her a friend. We spent some weekends at the lake together with some other coworkers. She had breast cancer, and that is what took her in the end.

So, I was annoyed that no one contacted me about it (I knew she had been pretty sick as of late), so I missed the funeral...which made me sad.

I been bummed all day. Breast cancer is a bitch.

CeCe had been hoping to cruise again, to Alaska. Looks like she will get her wish after all.

A Productive Day

I've had a productive day...by my standards.

I went and had lunch with Trish at Houlihans. My most favorite restaurant, home of the delicious Key Lime Martini...or so I have heard.

Then, I was able to go to the store and buy some garbage bags, and a shitload of Dum-Dums that were marked down for Easter. I'm going to take them to work and hand them out to staff and residents.

After that, I took Kant back to the airport so she could go home to Atlanta...where I'm sure it's a helluva lot warmer than it is here.

I read a book, Tickle His Pickle. Just because you are older doesn't mean you should ever stop learning.

I downloaded a bunch more songs to my iPod...and the last episode of Heroes. My latest infatuation with music right now is that of the tango genre (not whiskey tango). I've been wanting to take tango lessons for so long, but I'm somewhat reticent to take lessons without a partner. Maybe someday, the right partner will come along. Good dance partners are hard to find. I had one once, but then he had to go get married. Women are funny when it comes to their husbands dancing with other women, even if there is nothing funny going on.

Now, I'm just sitting here, listening to my tunes. It was a good day.

A New Look

So, I decided to change things up a little because I've kept with the same look since this blog's inception.

I hope everyone likes the new look. The biggest changes I may make now are to the quotes under the title. George Carlin is my favorite. He is a level of sarcasm that I one day aspire to.

Enjoy!

Blogger Meet and Greet

So, it's all over the blogdom about the KC Blogger Meet and Greet. My paranoid side thinks this is all a ploy to get me to leave the house. There is some safety in blogging as it affords you a certain degree in anonymity. However, if one tried really hard, my identity wouldn't be too difficult to ascertain. The only person I know who doesn't read my blog is my mother. She thinks it's an intrusion, as if she were reading my diary or something. A diary that hundreds of strangers read...

But still...

Here's the info in the event anyone who reads this blog (and hasn't heard of the event that is growing bigger and faster than a turd rolling downhill) might like to go and meet their favorite bloggers...or just go and give them the finger for writing something that may have damaged their delicate ego.

Tuesday, April 17th
Happy Hour until ????
Harry’s Country Club(Harry’s in the River Market, NOT Harry’s in Westport)
112 Missouri Ave
Kansas City, MO 64106

I'm still considering whether to go or not. I'm such a chicken when it comes to these sort of things.

When "I told you so" just seems so obvious...

What did I tell you? Sometimes, it hurts to be right.

Money says the family will be putting up the for sale sign by the end of the year.

Slap Happy, Wet, and Full of Ham

I've been awake for a total of 28 hours. I'm so tired, I can't fall asleep. Something tells me I will be hitting the Benadryl tonight.

After work this morning, I stopped by my mother's apartment for last minute preparations for today's Easter Feast (Yeah, I know, Easter is tomorrow...). Mom stopped to show me her new prescription bottles she just picked up. One bottle of diabetic meds, one bottle of thyroid meds. The pills in both bottles were exactly the same. We deduced that some pinhead at the pharmacy filled both bottles with the diabetic pills.

Off to the Walmart pharmacy we go.

I'm still in scrubs, looking the part of the scowling nurse. I ask to speak to the pharmacist there and I get the manager of the whole department. I show her the bottles, show her the pills, and she damn near pisses her pants. She's stumbling all over herself apologizing, gives Mom a free month of meds, plus a $25 gift card. Mom is elated. I demand to know how this med error occurred, and the pharmacist agrees that it was some pinhead who wasn't paying attention, and assured me that this would be taken to the home office for further scrutiny.

"I shouldn't have to tell you how serious this could have been," I said somberly.

We pick up some last minute stuff and I go home. I'm thinking I get at least a tiny nap in, but people start arriving the second I crawl into bed. Not fair!!

Family arrives, we prepare the meal, featuring a delicious ham from the HoneyBaked Ham store. An egg hunt, squealing children hopped up on all kinds of chocolate, and I am about ready to pass out.

My last guest leaves around 6:30pm. My house looks like a hurricane blew through it, leaving paper cups, empty soda cans, and a buttload of leftovers I'm not going to be able to eat. Looks like I will be toting some of it to work tomorrow night. I hope they like fruit salad.

On a brighter note, I have efficiently rationed out the remaining beer leftover from the housewarming party. Some people like beer better than chocolate rabbits.

On a more annoying note, I got a call from work. The bosshole was wondering why I wasn't on the schedule for tonight. If the bosshole would check his mailbox more often, he would have known I traded shifts with another nurse so I could be off tonight.

And on a more disappointing note, someone gave Sam a plateful of leftovers. At least he was outside, because the leftovers disrupted his delicate digestive tract and he had explosive diarrhea in the back yard. My last chore before I turn in the for the next 12 hours, was to bathe the dog...and I always end up with more soap and water on me, than he.

I'm so exhausted. Time to find that Benadryl.

Happy Easter!

Way to Represent!!

After a two-hour long spiel from the water softener guy who came to my house (I did end up buying a system, in case you were wondering), I skimmed through the channels to see what was on. The Bachelor was on channel 9, and just like any other tragic, mangled car accident on I-70, I had to stop and look.

Fortunately, I only caught the tail end, thereby saving me from watching a bunch of famewhore pinheads flip their hair, laugh at lame jokes and witticisms, and subtly (or not subtly) convey to the bachelor in question that they put out on the first date...and they take it in the butt.

No, I only got to see the Most. Dramatic. Rose. Ceremony. Ever. It's always fun to watch the rejects. Some cry, some shrug and move on with life, some are relieved. Or, someone has a complete psychotic breakdown. Lindsay, from Lawrence, Kansas. Crying, cursing, and just an overall sore loser. She confirmed pretty much what everyone has suspected about people from Lawrence.

They are completely insane.

So, here's to you, Lindsay, for setting a fine example, and representing the town who is desperately trying to rid itself of it's already crappy reputation. I'm sure the university won't think you are a complete idiot. Guys won't have to date you first before they find out you are Psycho Girlfriend because, thanks to your toddler tantrum on television, they will already know.

This is still the lamest show on the planet.