Archive for the ‘Bitch & Complain’ Category
After yesterday’s serious posting I decided to lighten things up a bit today. We snow bunnies here in Maine are celebrating again as we await yet another two feet of snow to play in. I’ve spent most of today with my new best friend, my snow blower, and we’ve been out doing our thing four times already. It’s a real bitch since this snow is extremely heavy and wet making everything doubly difficult. If I don’t continue to keep up with the snowfall then tomorrow when the temperature dips low again I’ll be up to my butt in ice.
My better-half has apparently lost what little was left of her mind. She’s been out in the snow all day running, jumping, and just being crazy. I fear she may have a serious snow fetish that I was not previously aware of. I gave up years ago trying to calm her down when she gets like this so I just stand back and take lots of pictures. They’re perfect for future blackmailing purposes and you can bet I’ll use them to my best advantage. I’m surprised she hasn’t again suggested making naked snow angels as she’s done in the past. In order for me to be tempted to do that I’d need a lot more alcohol which would in turn would make me especially dangerous with that snow blower. So I’ll pass this time and make sure I get really clear pictures if she decides to get that nuts.
Her one big wish today was to build a freaking snowman in the front yard. Since I wasn’t permitted to give it a nice set of breasts I refused to participate. Being the shy person she is she initiated a conversation with some guy in a pickup truck who was plowing the neighbors driveway who then stopped to look at the snowman. She complained she had no carrot for the snowman’s nose and it really wouldn’t be complete without one. The guy turned his truck around and drove away in the middle of the storm and returned fifteen minutes later, rolled down his window, and handed her a carrot, and then drove away. All in all a pretty cool move.
I suppose I’ll be out with the snow blower at least one more time before calling it a night. I suspect she’ll require me to sit in front of the television tonight with her to watch all of the red carpet hoopla before the Oscar ceremony. Thank God she works early in the morning and will probably go to bed early so I can turn it off. Watching Hollywood celebrities for me is much like having your wisdom teeth pulled with a pair of pliers and no Novocain.
It’s time for a quiet dinner and a glass of brandy or two and then to bed to read a few chapters. The storm should be over before morning and I hope we get a reprieve from the weather for a few days before the next one rolls in.
As I sit here today watching the freaking snow come down I’m a little irked because I have a few people in my life who’ve labeled me a ‘neat freak’. I’ve never been too fond of that negative terminology or the term OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) but I suppose in the end it’s probably true to a degree. Looking through my family tree for any proof of a ‘neat’ gene was no help at all. Believe me there is no indication whatsoever that anyone in my family was ever ‘neat’ at the level I seem to be. I have to admit that my nephew in Texas shows some minor indicators but not near the level I’ve reached.
These days it seems this condition is all the rage but they (the experts) have come up with a number of new names for what they deem a terrible affliction, ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) immediately comes to mind, and OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).
Just another excuse to bang the prescription drug drum. More drugs, take more drugs, buy more drugs, and everything will be just fine. Take the small children who may act up slightly in school, diagnose them with a myriad of alphabet diseases, and immediately put them onto some sort of drug regimen. The teachers apparently need their classes to be totally calm and controllable or they just can’t get the job done. Everyone knows its always much easier to control a room full of zombies than a bunch of excited children.
I agree there are some children and adults who are at the extreme end of hyperactivity and may need some sort of medication to calm them but not at the levels we’re currently seeing.
I feel for those people and can’t begin to imagine trying to live a normal life if my ‘neat freak’ affliction were twice as bad as it is. Unfortunately thousands of young children are automatically labeled with OCD, ADD, or ADHD which will then follow them for the rest of their lives. It not only colors how other people see them but how they see themselves. It actually in some cases can give them an excuse for continued bad behavior. "I’m OCD, it’s not my fault, my parents forgot to give me my pills this morning."
My sympathies go out to those people suffering with severe cases of this affliction. My sympathies also go out to the thousands of young children who are being medicated unnecessarily in order to maintain some sort of control in the schools. Being a smart ass with a wise mouth doesn’t make you ADD, ADHD, OCD, or anything else. It just makes you a smart ass with a big mouth who should not be considered a candidate for drugging.
I’m sure that some of you will be pissed off and disagree with me completely. That’s your prerogative but it won’t change in any way what I think or feel on the subject. For those of you who want to rant and rave at me, feel free.
As winter continues I always find myself looking forward to summer and spending time at the beach. It’s also impossible for me to accurately guess what kind of beachwear I’ll be seeing this year. More thongs to be sure and bikinis with as much material as a man’s handkerchief (I hope). It seems from my past experiences that the younger the women are the less clothes they are likely to wear. I’m all for showing a reasonable amount of skin but at a certain point it begins to lose it’s allure for me. There’s a fine line between sexy and slutty and for me near naked is much sexier than almost naked.
Coming of age in the sixties and seventies might make you think I’m a child of the free love generation. It’s not true at all. I do still harken back to bare feet, long flowing hair, and a full length light cotton dress (sans panties) but other things work for me as well. I’ve always been a big fan of the woman who can dress herself and be sexy without having all of her more interesting parts hanging out in the wind. I just love to be tantalized as part of the foreplay to really get me interested. An ankle peeking from beneath a long dress can be just as sexy as a low cut top or a super short skirt.
I’ve always been a fan of the Victorian times where people appeared to be a bit stuffy and non-sexual in their dress and comportment but once they entered the bedroom they dropped the goody-goody routine altogether. The women wore their hair long but rolled tightly in a bun and in the bedroom the bun was unrolled, the many articles of clothing were throw about the room, and the real fun could begin. It took more than a few minutes I’m sure to get them out of all the petticoats, slips, corsets, and high button shoes but in the end it was all good.
I was recently reading a few writings by Gwen Raverat (1885-1957), the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, who described sharing a room with a young lady in her younger years who was wearing the following listed undergarments. Just imagine yourself as a Victorian gentleman with sex on his mind trying to work his way through this outfit to get to the Promised Land.
1. Thick, long legged, long sleeved woolen combinations
2. Over them, white cotton combinations (this is a chemise and drawers combined into one garment), with plenty of buttons and frills
3. Very serious, bony gray stays, with suspenders
4. Black woolen stockings
5. White cotton drawers, with buttons and frills
6. White cotton "petticoat-bodice", with embroidery, buttons and frills
7. Rather short, white flannel petticoat
8. Long alpaca petticoat, with a flounce round the bottom
9. Pink flannel blouse
That wardrobe would take me at least an hour to work my way through. Hopefully I’d have enough strength and stamina left to finish the job after all that undressing. Those Victorian guys must have been incredibly persistent with the sex drive of Superman.
It doesn’t change anything for me though, I still find Victorian ladies sexy as hell but I would never discriminate against our modern women. I’ll also make this promise. I solemnly pledge to give the women of our younger generations my full attention and respect this summer as they prance along the beach wearing not much more than an attitude and a smile. It’s the courteous thing to do and I’m nothing if not courteous.
Do you ever use sarcasm as a means to quiet people who irritate you? Have you ever been accused of being a lesser person because your sarcastic? Do people that don’t understand sarcasm cause you to step back a bit and begin to wonder what it was early in their life that they missed? If you said yes to any of these questions then you are probably an honest-to-God quick witted and funny person like me.
It’s time for those of us blessed with superior sarcasm skills to stand up with our heads held high and proclaim to the world "I’m sarcastic, your not, life sucks so deal with it.” Jealousy is a terrible thing and if I remember correctly it is one of the Seven Deadly Sins and not something to be all that proud of.
I’ve often been accused of being “a sarcastic SOB” and I’ve put up with the ignorant and sometime condescending comments for years. I’ll no longer tolerate that kind of treatment by anyone ever again. No more Mr. Nice Guy, "I’m sarcastic, it isn’t going to change, so either get over it or stay the hell away from me.”
I began developing my sarcasm superpower at age ten when I discovered that I could deflect parents, adults, and bullies with sarcasm which in turn kept me from being beaten, spanked, and bothered. It didn’t always work but I decided I needed to develop the skill further because it had real potential.
In junior high school I tried to get along with my first and only bully. Unfortunately I was a bit of a runt which allowed the bully to think I was stupid, weak, and non threatening. As we all know most bullies love to target someone who is weak or appears to be weak for constant ridicule and physical intimidation. My bully was three years older than me, had been left back a couple of times, out weighed me by forty pounds, and fortunately for me was as dumb as a bag of rocks.
I remember clearly the first time I used sarcasm on him. When I told him sarcastically, “You must think your the biggest, badest, and smartest SOB in this effing school?”. He appeared to be flattered and just couldn’t stop grinning and swaggering around the school yard. He actually thought I complimented him which instantly transformed me into a possible candidate to join his entourage of morons and suck ups. I declined membership and after two years of being kicked around and having my possessions stolen, I was finally free to enjoy the rest of Junior High and High School without that asshole causing me further difficulties.
I decided then and there that using wit, sarcasm, and glib remarks was a valuable tool and became determined to refine it and become “All I could be”. If used properly along with smiles and clever conversation it can also get you laid every so often which was a accidental and pleasant discovery. That in itself justified all of the time and effort I put into becoming a virtual “sarcasm machine”.
As always when I write about things I try to research the meanings of the words I’m using. The alleged intellectuals responsible for compiling dictionaries and encyclopedias describe sarcasm very clinically and for the most part in a negative fashion:
In sarcasm, ridicule or mockery is used harshly, often crudely and contemptuously, for destructive purposes. It may be used in an indirect manner, and have the form of irony, as in "What a fine musician you turned out to be!" or it may be used in the form of a direct statement, "You couldn’t play one piece correctly if you had two assistants." The distinctive quality of sarcasm is present in the spoken word and manifested chiefly by vocal intonation . . .
Hostile, critical comments may be expressed in an ironic way, such as saying "don’t work too hard" to a lazy worker. The use of irony introduces an element of humour which may make the criticism seem more polite and less aggressive. Sarcasm can frequently be unnoticed in print form, oftentimes requiring the intonation or tone of voice to indicate the quip.
Viewing sarcasm as a negative really doesn’t get to the truth of it. There are some people, highly intelligent and educated, who just don’t get sarcasm. I try not to be disrespectful during those occasional conversations with them because I never want to be perceived as mean or rude. I like a lot of laughter in my life and when the people around me don’t bring anything to the table then it’s up to me to create some and I do, sometimes at their expense.
SO TO ALL OF YOU OUT THERE, HAVE A WONDERFUL AND GLORIOUS DAY (Sarcasm Off)
Nemo is dead, long live the king. The final tally for our area of Maine was approximately 38 inches of snow and one hell of a wind storm. We have a few drifts of five or six feet but nothing more serious than that. It could have been a whole lot worse.
After all of the snow-blowing today I won’t be able to left my arms tomorrow. I think I’ve finally bonded with this new snow-thrower, it’s now my BFF. It took a good part of the day to clear the driveway and then more disappointment. There was so much snow on the roads that the plows weren’t able to arrive until late afternoon. Even then they were only able to clear one lane in the middle of the road.
I’m hoping they’re able to widen the lanes a little more so we an get out of here for a while tomorrow. Even the birds were having serious issues trying to hang onto the bird feeder in a thirty-five mph wind. Not only were they fighting amongst themselves for the food but also fighting for a place on the bird feeder that offered some protection from the wind.
Our neighbors were out in force in mid-afternoon as the snow gradually stopped. It was nice to see everyone helping each other for a change in a neighborhood where individual privacy is the norm.
My better-half spent a lot of time emailing and connecting with family members from areas unaffected by the storm. She was also distributing photo’s far and wide to almost everyone. I feel for anyone who might have been caught in this blizzard with vehicle problems or medical emergencies. This kind of weather is definitely life threatening if not taken seriously.
The only good news for most of the state was the low number of power outages. We managed to escape the massive outages suffered in past storms due to a great deal of work by tree trimming crews throughout the summer months who cut down what would have been snow laden branches. Kudos to Central Maine Power and the local towns whose preventative work paid off in a big way.
I’ll be spending a few hours tomorrow in the final cleanup and then life will return to normal. I’m been hearing rumblings of another storm approaching in a few days and I hope to God it’s a little less of a problem than this one.
Everyone will be back to work tomorrow and life goes on. I’m really proud of myself because if what the media says is true (sarcasm), I’ve just survived my thirteenth "Storm of the Century". I think I should get some kind of honorable mention somewhere in that Guinness Book of World Records.
I won’t hold my breath though. Enjoy your day while I return to the cleanup.
I’ve arrived at this point in my life where TV is becoming more of an irritant than entertainment. Between the endless commercials, drug ads, biased politicians, and government propaganda, I’m reading to scream. Recently I listened to three of those infamous talking heads on the tube telling me that video gaming is responsible for all the ills of the world. As Don Imus would say, “that’s a pant load”.
In past years I’ve posted long lists of things I love and things I hate. They’re always fun to do and also a great mental exercise. I find that as I’ve aged my mind is slowly folding in on itself and beginning to stagnate. Old memories can easily take over and consume my thoughts which while fun at times is ultimately destructive. Keeping mentally alert and mentally active is the secret to living a longer life that is actually worth living.
These last few years convinced me of those facts as I watched my mother and aunt slowly fade away and die. My mother lasted a bit longer mentally than her sister but died sooner. My aunt was suffering from an affliction which may have been Alzheimer’s where she mentally faded away quickly but her body just kept on going. I realize that there are some things we can’t combat and I am realistic enough to accept that and move on. I also believe there are things we can do to fight off the effects of mental aging with a regimen of mental and physical exercises. It will help greatly to keep you mentally in the present for a much longer period of time.
I’ve been a game player, both computer and other types, for all of my life. With the advent of video games and HD I was in heaven. I know there are a lot of people in this country and elsewhere who would like nothing better than to control gaming and through the games control us. I’ve never believed that violent games lead to violent behavior. It’s easy to do the math and realize that millions of people play these games everyday but aren’t the least bit violent. Unfortunately there are unstable people in this world who choose to do violence to others. It’s not the games or guns that are the problem but mental instability. Take all of the guns away then they’ll try and kill people with whatever else is at hand.
I’m getting off message here a bit and ranting about gun control is not what I’m posting about. Video games provide me with improved hand-eye coordination, problem solving capabilities, and the ability to focus that if not maintained can fade with age.
I get strange looks from people my own age when I excitedly tell them of a new video game I’m involved with. I get those looks that say, “grow up, that stuff is for kids not someone your age”. It’s that kind of backward thinking that tends to piss me off and makes me a little crazy. Maintaining a full physical program in a gym is fine for some people but not to everyone. As you age your body isn’t always able to perform like it did when you were twenty, no matter how hard you try to push it. I’ve resigned myself to doing as much physical training as I’m able but even more important to me is exercising my mind.
To those folks out there who insist they have all the answers I can only say this. You don’t! We each grow up, age, and die at our own pace so just stay out of my life and let me handle it. I never thought I would get to be this age and would have so many know-it-all politicians and religious groups interested in baby-sitting me and second guessing my every move. I guess it will finally stop when someone slams my coffin lid shut. Here are my words of wisdom for today and I’m sure they would certainly help our country return to it’s former greatness.
STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS
Forgive the profanity but there are times when something this important can only be expressed bluntly.
Are you ready for the big celebration to begin? It’s Ground Hog Day eve. As I’ve mentioned many times before I was born and raised in western Pennsylvania from good sound German stock on my mother’s side of the family. February 2 was always celebrated and remains a well known and enjoyed holiday for us. I never bothered to search out the origins of the holiday because to me it didn’t really matter. So I found this little tidbit of information which is a little interesting and might tell you something you didn’t already know.
The celebration, which began as a Pennsylvania German custom in southeastern and central Pennsylvania in the 18th and 19th centuries, has its origins in ancient European weather lore, wherein a badger or sacred bear is the prognosticator as opposed to a groundhog. It also bears similarities to the Pagan festival of Imbolc, the seasonal turning point of the Celtic calendar, which is celebrated on February 1 and also involves weather prognostication and to St. Swithun’s Day in July.
I’ve written about my close association with Ground Hog Day a number of times in the past but it’s a fun story and bears repeating (in my humble opinion).
The holiday means only one thing in Pennsylvania and that is the appearance of our old friend ‘Punxatawney Phil’ on Gobbler’s Knob. He’s scheduled to show his furry little face on the second of February every year to let us know whether we’ll have six more weeks of winter.
To reminisce a bit, way too many years ago I was a rookie state police trooper in Pennsylvania. To a newbie that means getting stuck with every crappy police detail they can find for you. One of the crappier of those was being sent to Punxatawney to guard “Phil” and for crowd control in and around Gobbler’s Knob. I thought they were kidding me but they weren’t.
A few of us rookies were ordered to make the trek to Punxatawney, PA along with a veteran sergeant who must have lost the coin toss. We arrived in our cleanest and well pressed uniforms, met with all of the local politicians, and then were introduced to ‘Phil"’. He was cordial enough for a stupid gopher but we were well advised to keep our hands away from him. He was a touch cranky and known to nip off a finger or two if provoked.
Believe it or not the crowds were huge. I’ve never understood why every local politician from miles around flocks to that ceremony. I guess they’re just hoping to get some free TV face-time or maybe even an interview with some of the local media. I met some mayors, some councilmen, and a few political hacks which unfortunately weren’t even as interesting as meeting ‘Phil’.
The only good thing I experienced that day was a rather buxom news reporter from a nearby town who took an immediate liking to my manly stature and my pretty uniform. She was much less furry than ‘Phil’ which was a plus and she also paid for my dinner. She even convinced me that dating her was the right thing to do. So I did.
It’s sad to say but we all know any relationship built upon a Groundhog Day Ceremony was doomed from the start. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t care to drive to Punxatawney (a three hour round trip) every weekend. I finally explained to her that long distance relationships just never work out no matter what. It wasn’t her, it was me. I dragged out all of the old clichés I could remember and disappeared from her life.
They tried to send me on that detail the following year but I had a court appearance and was able to dodge that bullet. I wasn’t too concerned about meeting “Phil” again but that blond had me seriously concerned. Besides, do we really need a gopher to let us know we’re going to have six more weeks of winter. We really are stupid sometimes.
How many people do you know who seem to be constantly running here and there but accomplishing very little? They can’t slow themselves down so they eventually run out of energy and crash. It takes a while for them to recuperate but once they do, off they go again at full speed. During a normal conversation they constantly talk-over the person they’re speaking to and we all know how rude and annoying that can be.
I’m sympathetic to a point because many times they really can’t control themselves. If you know someone like that have them read the following few paragraphs. That might be difficult because many of these folks hate to read. They’ll read the first line of a paragraph and skip over the rest.
I was given this “Jar of Life” essay while in college from a stuffing know-it-all professor who apparently knew more than I thought.
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes".
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty spaces between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things — your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions — things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else — the small stuff." If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. "Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18 holes. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I’m glad you asked," he said "It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."
I’ve always loved this piece because it just makes good sense. Share it with your frenzied friends who may need your help in prioritizing their life. If you have to, read it to them.
Shopping in January. The temperature is nineteen degrees with a wind chill of nine degrees. Are we effing crazy? That would be a huge yes. We were out of the house running errands where we rode around in a nice warm car, would run into a nice warm store, and then return to the nice warm car. Sounded like an excellent plan to me but then again, what the hell do I know. Out of the blue my better-half decided to let me know she was jonesing for fresh crabs. Could we swing by the docks in Portland to the fish market and pick up a few? What was I going to say?
As we entered the city there were a surprising number of people roaming the streets. There must have been some kind of political protest going on because we saw a number of folks carrying their home-made signs and waving at passing traffic. It’s nice to see that those “Occupy Portland” idiots have found something to do through the winter. Fortunately the turnout must have been rather low because there didn’t appear to be any delays with traffic flow.
If you’ve ever been to Portland, Maine you must be aware of the constant parking problems. It’s ten times worse in the winter when a large number of parking slots are filled with piles of snow and ice. We got lucky and found a spot after 15 minutes of cruising around. They still get to take a shot at you for parking violations due to a stupid two hour limit on their meters. I firmly believe that the town council and politicians are paid from the parking ticket fund. I saw no less than four meter readers (parking Nazi’s) on one street dropping $25.00 tickets everywhere.
My better-half had the audacity to say “I think we should walk around for a while.” My only reply was “Are you kidding me, it’s effing cold out here. Find a store and go in.” So she did. We were then in and out of a handful of odd little shops with off-beat merchandise and really high prices. We found a place called Pandemonium which is the ultimate shopping experience for over priced crap. I again was placed in a position where I had no choice but to buy something. I found an ugly little pig clock for my better-half’s Valentines Day gift and a bottle of habanero hot sauce with a really scary warning label. The cost of those two items could have kept my car gassed up for two weeks. Highway robbery!
I could see in her eyes what was coming next. It was two in the afternoon and she was dreaming of those stupid crabs and a cold beer. We swung by the fish market where I remained in the car. I hate going in there because even on a good day the smell is awful. She was back in a wink with no crabs. Apparently it’s too cold for crabs too and there were none available, Boo Hoo!
We then arrived at a local tavern, Three Dollar Dewey’s, that we visit whenever we’re in town. A quick drink, some fish and chips, and then home.
I have to admit it was fun to get out of the house for a while. I have one additional question for you women out there. What would possess any women into going out into this cold weather wearing only a cardigan sweater, a pair of black, skin tight leotards, and a pair of Ugg boots. I saw at least four women dressed in that outfit scurrying along bitching and complaining about the cold. I’ve always said I didn’t understand women and I still don’t. You could freeze your Who-Ha right off if you had one.
You all know I just love pointing out the many useless national observances that our society is inundated with. Today is January 22, 2013 and this is the day of remembrance set aside for the observance of the Roe v. Wade decision in 1973.
I’m not here to take a political position because no one would listen to me anyway. I’m just pointing out the ridiculousness of having a day to remember some thing like this. Without picking sides I will reveal that in my youth I was responsible for the abortion of two of my almost children. I was all for it at the time but it’s haunted me for more than forty-five years. So to make your celebration of this day “all it can be”, here are a few real facts you might be interested in learning directly from a pro-abortion organization.
Many of the statistics in this posting are taken from the Guttmacher Institute, the research arm of Planned Parenthood, the largest abortion provider in the U.S. The Guttmacher Institute has been compiling data on abortion since 1968. Since they favor abortion, the data they provide will have more credibility to those who are pro-choice than data from a pro-life source.
Over 53 Million abortions Since Roe v. Wade.
This means that every 26 seconds a preborn baby dies in America.
About 1 in 4 (23%) of all pregnancies in the United States end in abortion.
It is estimated that 43% of all women will have at least 1 abortion before they are 45 years old.
Every year, there are approximately 42 million abortions per year worldwide
The World Health Organization estimates that every day 150,000 abortions are carried out worldwide.
This means a full 20% of human lives are ended by abortion.
Read more: Abortion Facts – Abortion Facts http://www.whyprolife.com/abortion-facts/#ixzz2IjrQqO82
Source: Johnston, Wm. Robert. Historical Abortion Statistics, United States. http://www.johnstonsarchive.net/policy/abortion/ab-unitedstates.html.
If your pro-abortion and reading this pisses you off, you should understand something right now, I don’t care. Opinions are like assholes and everybody’s got one and this is my blog and it contains MY asshole opinions. Please don’t write to me with YOUR asshole opinions because they will go unpublished.
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