Wednesday, March 31, 2010

More Shit SB Says in Comments

Colin Farrell's TOO BIG A WHORE even for me. And trust me, that takes a PRETTY BIG WHORE to be a man and to be TOO BIG A WHORE for SB!

Elizabeth Montgomery & the Missing Linc

All this talk of Mrs. Kravitz has made me miss the lovely Elizabeth Montgomery, who may be, at least in my view, one of the best looking bitches EVER. Judge for your damnselves. I can't make up your minds!

I used to idolize Liz and Julie from The Mod Squad as a kid. I made my little brother play Pete, and we pretended to ride around and bust perps and shit. We didn't have any black kids in our neighborhood, so I was short a Linc. That sort of rubbed me the wrong way and ruined things. Linc was the cool one, and we had a missing Linc. You can't have a damn Mod Squad without Linc, motherfuckers!

Shit SB Says

Opposable thumbs are overrated. Big damn deal.

Plastic Joy Award

There is nothing SB enjoys more than some plastic joy! (CHARGE CARDS! You damn filty-minded motherfuckers thought I meant a vibrator, didn't you?)

Thanks to my dear friend, Ruth, at Life the Universe and All That's In it for this award. [Check out Ruth's fantastic site on my blog list on the right side of this page. My motherfucking paste function is not working to post the damn link.]

I understand the award instructions are to name 5 or more characters that you would like to knock boots with.

Here we go.

Hank Moody, Californication (my current favorite show)

Fuckers a damn mess, but he means well, and he really likes women.

Chris Stevens from Northern Exposure (my favorite show of all time)

Again, fucker liked the women AND literature. Jackpot! He could read Thoreau to me naked anytime.

Tommy Gavin, Rescue Me

Tommy is a fucking righteous mess, but again, he digs the chicks and makes me alternately want to fuck him and fix him.

Damon Salvatore, The Vampire Diaries

Likes women. Likes to bleed women dry. Literally. Bad boy with an I-know-what-you-look-like-naked smirk. Need I say more?

And lastly,

Daniel Cleaver, Bridget Jones Diaries

He's quite simply awful and has very few redeeming qualities, but I would run off with him for a mini-break in a heartbeat. The Guy can really recite a dirty limerick. I'm a literate bitch and that shit appeals to me.

Fun stuff, Ruth! Thanks for the award. SB adores you!

Old Neighbours, New Neighbours

Last night, I had the windows open, and I heard a familiar voice. NO, IT WAS NOT SATAN, you bunch of fucking smart asses. It was my old neighbour, Joe. (You may remember me mentioning the kids, as in the kids who had the yard sale that blocked my entire front picture window for several weeks last year.)

Anyhoo, Joe came back (nearly a year after he, the wife, and the kids moved out) to dig up some plants the wife had planted in our/my yard in order to cart them off to the place he is living currently. I had to laugh. Only Joe would have the balls to even consider that shit, let alone do it. Of course, I told him: whatever. I could give a fuck. Dig the entire yard up. Whatever.

The new biker/born again neighbours have more material possessions than God. Motherfucker made multiple trips with a huge U-Haul and kept unloading until dark last night. I never saw so much fucking furniture in all my fucking life. I don't know how the motherfuckers fit all that shit in their half of the double. The kids may be sleeping in a closet or some shit, but that's not my concern. Far be it from me to act like Puppini Kravitz. I don't have time to be a damn busybody!

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

My New Neighbours Are Moving In

My new neighbours are moving in to the other half of the double I live in as I type this. I went home for lunch, and Teeny Weeny Puppini has taken to watching all the move-in action, laying on the kitchen table that looks out on the neighbour's entryway. Her new name is: Puppini Kravitz, in honour of Mrs. Kravitz (the nosy bitch) from Bewitched. That feline bitch would normally NEVER lay on the damn kitchen table. She is not even that interested in sitting in windows. Curiousity killed the--well--yeah. They say that shit because it's true, motherfuckers!

[Oh, and I forgot to mention that the new neighbours are ex-biker, ex-drug using, born-agains. I wish they were just drug using bikers! I mean, I'd rather. I forgot to hang my black upside-down crucifix on the porch last night. Fuck me.]

Not Much Going On

Good morning my precious motherfuckers. SB just plain does not have much to report so far this week. Everything is okey-dokey. At least we have sun here this morning in gorgeous Buttfuck, Ohio. SO FAR.

I had an 8:00 appointment [Jesus Christ] with the eye surgeon this morning, and everything looks good. He said he is very happy with the eye I had the cataract surgery on. Little did he know, I did not follow through on the eye drops as I was directed. I'm a rebel, goddammit! The rules for the common folk DO NOT apply to moi. Yes, we are a little full of ourselves this [and every] morning. I sound like that bitch Leona Helmsley. I do have to say that I liked the fact that Leelee left her damn dog (who randomly bit the little people, might I add) millions. Of course, her fucking greedy-assed kids didn't like that and took some of the little barker's dough away. Whatever! It was a nice gesture.

Anyhoo, SB OUT! Y'all have a blessed damn day! [Don't ask. Some sign said that shit on the way here, so I thought I'd pass it on. It's a damn nicety, motherfuckers. You're welcome.]

Monday, March 29, 2010

I'm Not Posting Today (Except for this Shit Here)

It's fugly and dark and rainy here in Buttfuck this morning. I'm taking the day off mentally.

It's also Monday and I'm grumpy. [I already bared my teeth and growled at one poor hapless motherfucker here in the office who approacheth before the coffee kicketh in. Dumb fucker. All I had time to grab was McDonald's coffee and it McSucks.]

Don't feel like posting shit today, unless I run across something that doesn't take a lot of damn thought. I refuse to be a damn slave to this motherfucking blog, motherfuckers.

I'll be around to read and comment on your shit as the day goes on, as long as none of you posts anything too damn deep.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Can't a Bitch Take a Damn Vacation?

Somebody from Chappaqua, New York, Is Checking Out Coco's Big FAT Ass

Bill Clinton, is that you? You are SB's favorite President!


Possibly the MOST HATED man in America (after Rush Limbaugh and George W. Bush). Sarcastic Bastard is DEFINITELY Team Sandy. Are there any members of Team Jesse? Probably just one. Jesse himself. Even Cinnabun is Team Sandy!

Message to Sandy: We love you Sandy! Hold your head high. Don't let that pig fucker make you feel humiliated or ashamed.

There Is a Time to Stop with the Makeup

Case in point. Jesus.

I Want to Be a Baby

I Don't Know Why I Read this Bitch

But this post was particularly interesting. You're welcome.

Link to post:

Jesus, I Miss the 80s

SB had BIG HAIR like the red-shorts-wearing motherfucker.

Shit SB Says

That fucker at the Tim Horton's drive-thru thinks he's some sort of radio DJ or something. He practically shouts at you with his BIG RADIO VOICE. It's too damn early for that shit. I'd like to punch the fucker.

Shit SB Says in a Reply to a Comment

Thanks for the tip. I am always interested in foreign cusswords. You never know when you'll need to curse a bitch out who doesn't speak your language.

I'm Tired and Grouchy as Fuck Today

Also, our asses here in Buttfuck, Ohio, are sitting under a couple of inches of snow this morning. My grouchy ass had to dig my winter coat out of the closet and scrape my fucking car off this morning. Will the torture never end? GOOD THING IT'S FRIDAY, MOTHERFUCKERS!

On the bright side, I did get laid last night, and that will cheer a bitch up EVERYTIME.

If it's too much information, go read somebody else's blog. That bitch Rachael Ray is all chipper and squeaky clean. Go read her. Link: Ho reminds me of a damn chipmunk on crack.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Somebody Needs to Style this Hot Mess AND QUICK

Jennifer Love Hewitt cannot fucking dress herself. Bitch needs help. Somebody get her a damn stylist! Fucking Rachel Zoe could do better than this shit here. Bitch looks like she ought to be singing Dietrich tunes at a Holiday Inn lounge in Iowa.


I must have scared the HORNY German away. He hasn't been here wanking to my shit today.

Auf wiedersehen, motherfucker!

Art Alexakis (of Everclear)

I have been listening to Art and Everclear for years now, and I just wanted to post a mini-tribute to Art here, because I have been listening to him a lot the last couple of days. I dig Art, and for some reason, most of the song lyrics he's written could have been written by SB. We sort of see the world in the same (dysfunctional) way. I think we hurt in the same places. We are broken bitches, but still making it through.

Also, we both like the word motherfucker. What? It's a good word. Very versatile.

Sending MAD love out to Art.


Yeah, live and let live mutha-fuckers
I’m gonna do me –you do you
You’re all a bunch of haters
I don’t like the way that you talk to me
When you tell me how it’s gonna be
And I don’t like the way that you smile at me
When you tell me what is wrong with me
Sometimes I wish you would go away
Go away and never ever come back
I don’t like the mean and vindictive things you do
It makes me want to hate on you
Yeah, it’s got me sad
I’m kind of stressed
You got me feeling anxious
I’m always depressed
And I don’t want to play this game of tug-o-war
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
No, I don’t want to be with a hater
You are such a hater
I don’t like the way that you never take the blame
For absolutely anything
And I don’t like the way that you put me through hell
For all those things you do yourself
Sometimes I wish I could disappear
Fade away into a happy new life
I don’t like the way that you’re always telling lies
You talk about me all the time
I hear you talk
You are such a bore
I see the way you look
I think you look like a whore
I know you know I know the way you were before
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore, hater
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore, hater
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore, anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t wanna play this game
No, I don’t want to play games
You’re a hypocrite
You lie to me
You use words you don’t understand
You embarrass me
Yeah, you’re beautiful
In an ugly way
Hey the sex was never that good anyway
It’s got me down
I’m superstressed
Taking medication
I’m always depressed
I don’t want to fight you in the tug-o-war
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore
I don’t want to be with a hater like you anymore

More Serious Shit

You are right. The word sin is way too loaded. It was designed by Christianity to make us feel like shit about ourselves.

I feel like shit about myself enough. I don't need their help.

Goodbye Will Come, But We'd Rather Delay It

Goodbye will come, but we’d rather delay it

By Jane Fishman [Jane is someone I've met, and also my favorite columnist.]

No one likes to say goodbye. It’s so final. That’s why we don’t erase phone messages from someone who has died; we like to hear their voice.

That’s why we keep letters. Handwriting is so personal, so singular. That’s why we save robes or rings or pink princess phones. That’s why we drag our heels before throwing away their clothes.

Writer Joan Didion calls this magical thinking. The person may “wake up” and need something to wear. Then what? “You threw away my favorite black shoes? My good outfit I got from Aunt Dorothy? What were you thinking?”

We know goodbyes will come, but we don’t like to think about them. We have euphemisms for goodbyes. For death. She’s passed on. (Or over. Or away.) She’s an angel. She’s in a better place.

When someone is dying we try to make things easier by getting real close and whispering to them, “It’s time to go.” Many people say that’s what you’re supposed to do.

We tried that one with my mother, the hospice nurse and I. It makes sense in the abstract, but they’re not easy words to form.

When I tried saying them, I felt foolish. I half-expected my mother, who had not had anything to eat or drink in more than three weeks (“A record for me,” said the nurse. “She’s one for the books,”), to pop open her eyes, raise her eyebrows, hitch herself up on her skinny arms and say, “Go? Where are we going?”

This was a woman who was very happy in the present. She did not mourn the past. She did like to watch the robins, follow the clouds, wonder about the man at the next table. Finding the wordsWe have euphemisms for illness. “Bed rest,” said the resident doctor, seeing a sleeping, non-responsive woman slouched on the couch. “Let’s put her on bed rest.” As if she were not 96. As if with a little rest in bed she might recover her vigor.

“Her body is tired,” said the good doctor, accurate but also a little misleading. As if with a little more time spent putting her feet up, and drinking a cup of coffee, she might get back some punch.

And yet what did I say when the residents asked, “How’s your mother?” I said, “Peaceful. She’s peaceful.” A little less than accurate, but it seemed to do the trick.

She was peaceful. We had the morphine. We had the painkillers. We had the sedatives. We thought about putting a little Crown Royal on the mouth sponges.
We wanted to do something. But there was no agitation, no disturbance. There was no need.

Always thrifty, this woman was going to get her money’s worth out of life. She was going to wring the last possible minute out of what she had.

“Her heart is strong,” said the nurse the same day she could no longer hear the bottom (or diastolic) number of what constitutes the blood pressure figure. That was the same day we both hunched in close to count 30 seconds between breaths.

Looking at the Senior Olympics medals draped over the top of her lamp, the nurse elaborated.

“This is what happens when you’re in good shape. Maybe we should go out and eat some fried food.”

A nurse’s aide didn’t see it that way. She was comforted by the calm, which wouldn’t have come if she were in bad shape. She was impressed at the tranquility.

“As if she were in a deep sleep,” she said. “Now I see I don’t have to be so afraid of death. This is changing my whole way of thinking.”

'We had dreams’If only we knew what she was thinking. If only we knew what she was dreaming, what that suspended existence between here and there felt like because it looked as if she were enjoying the process.

But would she make her birthday, March 1, we all wondered? Maybe that would that will be the day. That plus nine, as it turns out.

Still, we had dreams. I dreamt about watching my mother drive into a lake and not coming up, walking into an empty room, looking out the window for my car, not finding it and crying, “Everything I have is in that car.”

I ate a lot of Jell-O during those weeks of vigil, green and orange, plus sweet potatoes, food for someone on bed rest. (There was denial in the dining room.) I shared an intimate relationship with my cell phone, wondering at times if someone forgot to call me, if I missed a call, if my phone failed to pick up a call. When would the call come? When I was in the shower, on a walk with my dog, after I went to sleep?

Would they remember to call me?

With reluctance I put on my big-girl pants, went to the funeral home and picked out a casket, a plain pine box, even after the funeral director, consulting his note cards, told me, “Let’s see here. Your uncle Harry picked out this fine mahogany box for your grandparents.” (“And your point would be?” I asked).

The morning of the funeral I drove to the wrong cemetery. Was that deliberate? Perhaps.

The day the men in black came to escort her out of her room, excusing themselves for being late, I said, “It’s OK. There’s no hurry.” By then my cousins Bonnie and Jeri and my nephew Mike had come to the room. In between crying I was laughing over Rose stories.

Just before they bent to take her, I said, “Wait, can we just make sure she’s gone? Can we check one more time that she isn’t breathing?”

I did not want the moment to end. I did not want to say goodbye.

Jane Fishman is a former columnist for The Savannah Morning News.

Irate Shit SB Says

They are calling for possible snow overnight tonight, here in Buttfuck, Ohio. I'd like to kill a weather bitch about now.

Some Serious Shit SB Says

I don't believe in sin. I just believe in choices that people make. Some are better than others.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

More Shades of GROSS

Okay--I know, I KNOW, Ms. Moon--pregnant women are all beautiful and miraculous and shit--but this shit still grosses me out. SORRY.

The Damn Puritans Are at It Again

Let's all worry about a woman gardening topless near an elementary school. That's WAY MORE OFFENSIVE and potentially harmful to our children than the damn war in Iraq.

Link to story:

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The Fucking HORNY German is Back

He's been looking at Coco's FAT ass pumping iron again with his limp schwangen schlong or whatever they call a limp fucking dick over there.

And NO, SB is not a big fan of the Germans. NO SENSE OF HUMOR WHATSOEVER.

It's my blog. I'll say whatever the fuck I want.

Shit SB Says

I could eat better and give up the McDonald's, but instead, I'm taking stomach enzymes so they will help digest the garbage I dump in my body.

I'm an American. A pill will fix whatever's wrong.

More Wisdom from Shitmydadsays

"Don't ask for my opinion then. I said congrats on the car, just saying nobody's panties are getting wet from a fucking Honda Accord."

Quick Post About a Dickbag


Doubtful My Ass Will Be Posting Today (or Tomorrow)

SB is quite doubtful that my ass will be posting today or tomorrow. The work deadline draweth nigh, peeps, and my ass is woefully behind.

Be back to regular posting on Thursday or Friday this week.

Love to all (except for republicans and evangelicals).

The Irascible One

Friday, March 19, 2010

Serious Shit SB Says

I look at life like this big waiting room, where if you're lucky, you'll meet some nice people to pass the time with before you shuffle off this mortal coil.

George Clooney Is a Sweetness

From the NY Post today.

George Clooney might be the classiest man in Hollywood. A source told us the star didn't vote for himself for this year's Best Actor Academy Award. Clooney punched his ballot for Jeff Bridges -- and then photographed it and sent it to his fellow nominee. Clooney's publicist, Stan Rosenfield, confirmed: "Story is true. According to George, 'It was an amazing performance.' He also told Jeff, 'If you don't win, you can't blame me.' "

[SB grew up watching George's dad, Nick Clooney, on a local Cincinnati news station. We are proud of him.]

CLASSY. Maybe we could hook her up with Prince Harry.

Mel Gibson is busy speed dialing this classy bitch right now.

The SB Anal Sex Poll

What is SAM HELL is wrong with my readers' (lack of) propensity for butt fuckage? The folks against anal sex are currently rocketing away with this poll. Loosen up, motherfuckers (no pun intended) and embrace anal sex.

I am watching this poll and haven't felt so defeated since the second Bush presidency. SIGH.

If you haven't voted, VOTE NOW MOTHERFUCKERS! This ranks up there with a good health care plan. Speak up. Be heard.

More Shit SB Says

My spelling goes all to hell when I drink. Apologies in advance, motherfuckers.

Ms. Moon Will Get This

It is SOFA KING [hat tip to L., my lovely dinner partner last night] beautiful here in Ohio, that a bitch could launch her antidepressants without fucking regret! Driving home for lunch, SB noticed that Ohioans are smiling (after the long winter) in their cars and shit. It was sort of scary, but great.

[I hope this makes sense, because SB had a sizeable Blood Mary or TWO at luncheon. SUMMER IS BLOODY MARY TIME, MOTHERFUCKERS! And if I teach you nothing else, let it be this. Christina and Ruth over in England know this shit, and so does The Dish here in the fucking Mid-west. Get on board, motherfuckers. And also it takes MANY LEMONS and a splash of A-1 to make a REALLY GOOD Bloody Mary. The bartender at our local sports bar and I have worked this shit all out to save you motherfuckers the trouble. You're welcome.]

My ass stopped at Big Lots on the way back from lunch and picked up three NEW tiki torches (Because you can't have a party without tiki torches, motherfuckers! Elvis knew that shit and so should we all. Let us learn from ELVIS.) and a solar outdoor night light. TODAY, I EMBRACE HUMANITY!!! (But only for one day. Don't push it!) I love my fellow human beings and am in splendorous ONENESS with nature and GOD and The Universe!

AND ALSO I AM DRUNK. It fucking happens, peeps, and you know it.

PORCH PARTY TONIGHT AT SB'S PLACE!!!! Y'all are welcome.

Jesus, Some People Are Ignorant

Some of my family members are gay, and my ass DOES NOT appreciate this shit at all. If you are rejected by your biological family for being gay, come join my family. SB does not discriminate. The more family, the better! It's a cold hard world, motherfuckers, and you can NEVER have too many people.

Quote of the Day: Gene Tierney

"Wealth, beauty and fame are transient. When those are gone, little is left except the need to be useful."

[Bitch ought to know. See photo above.]

Notice to Motherfuckers at the Office

I am NOT a hospitality/service worker, nor is my ass a member of the janitorial industry. I am a technical damn editor.

If you use all the toilet paper on a roll in a bathroom stall, please replace it for the next poor unfortunate motherfucker who comes along. This is NOT rocket science. It is common courtesy.



The Irate Editor

They Saw Risky Business Too Many Damn Times

Note to Self: I Have Got to Stop Eating Meat

When I first ran across this photo, I thought: cute smiling piggy. NO WRONG. DEAD PIGGY. GROSS DEAD PIGGY. FRESH FROM SLAUGHTER.

I just had a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel, and now I feel sick.

May Katherine Brotherton Rot in Hell

Link to story:

Shit SB Says to a Friend

I'm the only asshole you know who goes to an authentic Mexican restaurant and orders a Bloody Mary.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Jesse James Is an ASSHOLE

If this could happen to Sandra Bullock, it could happen to anyone. Poor doll. I just love her. I hope their split is permanent. Link to story below.


And also, Jesse broke up Cinnabun's happy home. Look at this face. How could he do that? Callous bastard fucker.

Link to story:

Shit SB Says

American politics is confusing as shit. They make it that way on purpose. They like to keep the masses confused.

Absolutely Goddamn Right (Except for Owen)

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Please Take a Minute and E-mail Your Congressperson

Obama is asking for our help to pass his health care reform plan. That help is critical right now. It only takes a minute of your time to help him out. If you have not already done so, please use the link below to e-mail (or call) your congressperson in support of health care reform.

Everybody should have enough.

SB humbly thanks you.


One of the Wisest Things I've Ever Read

At a party given by a billionaire on Shelter Island, Kurt Vonnegut told his friend, Joseph Heller, that their host, a hedge fund manager, had made more money in a single day than Heller had earned from his wildly popular novel Catch-22 over its whole history.

Heller said, “Yes, but I have something he will never have: Enough.”

[It seems to me that this is the whole problem with being American in a nutshell. This is why we are a nation of obese materialists who are pretty unhappy compared to a lot of poorer nations. It's why Obama is having such a damn hell of a time getting a decent healthcare system put in place--greed--not wanting to share with others, even though a lot of us have more than enough.

On a personal level, it's why I'm 30 lbs. overweight, drink too much, was hooked on antidepressants, and have credit card debt. Truly comprehending what Heller said would fix nearly every problem that most of us have.

I don't know why this particular quote has been on my mind all day today, but it has. So it goes. And God bless you Joe and Kurt, wherever you are.]

Some Serious Shit SB Says

It's strange the way the past blows back on you. You think you've basically moved on and gotten past old hurts, but they blow back in on strange winds. The timing of their resurfacing is not under your control, and you find instantaneously that you're sucked right back to the hurt and that a part of you is still very raw. The wound was only surface-healed and is gaping wide and obscenely underneath the skin.

This Shit Means YOU, Betty

Dear neighbors,

It has come to my attention that some people simply do not know what a toilet seat is, let alone the proper ladies room etiquette for raising them before urinating from the standing position. So in the future (i.e. starting right now), please raise the seat before doing your business. And stop urinating on the seats (this means you, Betty). If this continues, you will all be peeing from the seated position. For reference, I have appended an image of what the toilet should look like before you urinate in it. Study it long and hard.

As a side note, may I suggest that ladies raise the toilet seat once they are done, so these toilet seat spoilers can no longer have their sick way with our lovely restroom. I mean, seriously, I’ve been raising toilet seats when I’m done for just about 20 years now (so what if I did it before I was potty trained?), how about some gender equality? In the great progressive state of California, this should have been done years ago.

Finally, to the person who left a toilet paper roll out in the hallway, shame on you. Not only is this wasteful, but it also allowed Pat to amuse his ego by rainbow kicking it around the hallway thinking he’s a soccer superstar. By the way, if it was me who put that roll out when I was drunk last night, I apologize. Very possible.


D don’t piss on the f***ing seats”
an Executive Jungle Juice Maker

[SB digs Pat and his ego. We would be friends.]

Today's Wisdom from Shitmydadsays

"War hero? No. I was a doc in Vietnam. My job was to say "This is what happens when you screw a hooker, kid. Put this cream on your pecker."

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Two Disgusting Whores

There are few people I despise more than these two fucktwats. I think they totally deserve each other.

Sissy Boy Pissy Pants

If this was my brother, he would NEVER EVER live this shit down.

Also, did Mom make that frock from a pack of water bed satin sheets or some shit?

More Shit SB Sez in a Comment to Family

I hate peas. I'm like stupid George Bush (the senior one, not the shit-for-brains baboon) was with broccoli. I AM 43 YEARS OLD, AND I AM NOT EATING THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS EVER AGAIN.

Actually, just the smell of peas cooking makes me want to throw the fuck up.

Do you sense my ire, Mary Moon? Can you tell I am "on the grump" this morning? Well, I am. Fuck it.

But I still love you, and if you planted the goddamn peas, I'm sure they are perfect, and I might even eat one tinylittle pea.

Love you.

Shit SB Says

Dying is easy. Relationships are hard.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Musical Taste Can Be a Deal Breaker

I know I’m a Wimp for emailing but I want to be honest. You asked where your CD’s Went, and I told you I didn’t know. I know. I destroyed them. at least all the Bread and Dan Fogelberg CDs, same with the Air Supply and Wham. It’s been almost 2 months and I swear i couldn’t take it anymore.

I tried to overlook the truth, that you have the worst taste in music of anyone I’ve ever met. I know I told you I liked alright those CDs, but then I told you I really didn’t, I actually couldn’t stand them and I wished you wouldn’t play them when I was around. But you continued to play them and not just on your iPod but on the stereo, in the car, etc.

I’m sorry. You were out and I was having a shitty day and I saw them all sitting there on the shelf, and I just grabbed them and smashed them to smithereens. I used that big hammer from the basement and smashed the shit out of them, and I enjoyed it. Because honestly Sally they are total garbage. The music you listen to is total garbage.

I probably shouldn’t have done this or at least discussed it with you one more time. but the truth is these bands are among the worst in the history of music on earth and when you hum along with them and struggle to sing the lyrics, as if the lyrics are worth struggling after and not even stupider than the music, I just want to throw up. and I wonder how can such an otherwise great, smart and totally hot woman be so fucking stupid when it comes to music.

I hope you understand. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I can replace them but really if I do I’ll probably just smash them again. I’ll be back Saturday and, if you want, I can come over and pick my stuff up because if you plan to listen to this shit again I’m just not going to be able to be there.


J: Are you joking? Where are you, I’ve left messages. You're not joking are you. I don’t believe this, I don’t believe you. I’ve been looking for days. No, you don’t have to come over for your stuff. I’m throwing it away after stomping all over it with my boots. So no don’t come over. Ever. I do have good musical taste. You’re just a spoiled immature asshole.

The Skinny, My Beloved Motherfuckers

This is the last full week before my deadline here at work, and lordy, is my ass behind (no pun intended) on the damn project, so SB will VERY LIKELY not be posting anymore this week. Whenever I need to surface for air and take a momentary breather from THE PROJECT FROM HELL, I will pop round to a few of your blogs as I can, but I will not be commenting daily (like I do normally).

This too shall pass, motherscratchers. My actual deadline is on March 24th, and I will be back on a regular basis after that.

Catch you on the flip side. Y'all have a banner week.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Because I Miss Him

[And also he was purdy.]

I was listening to Jeff's bootleg version of Thin Lizzy's Dancing in the Moonlight on the way in this morning. It blew me away. I think his death, and the way it happened, is a major reason why I don't believe in God. If that could happen to him, with such beauty and such unearthly talent, then none of us can really be worth anything to a creator. We are about as valuable as a smashed insect on a porch.

If you are interested, google Jeff Buckley, for those of you who don't know the back story. I don't have the heart or inclination to tell it here.

More Crap SB Says

I hate the word neat. If you say "neat," you're a damn dork, and there's no hope for you in this world.

Shit SB Says in a Comment on Her Own Damn Blog

Ms. Moon is right. We should NOT be afraid of color! We should embrace that shit.

My Precious Encounter with an Old Limping Motherfucker at McDonald's

Yes, motherfuckers, I stopped at the McDonald's drive-thru this morning BECAUSE I WAS TIRED AND FUCKING DESPERATE for some sort of food for my poor empty hungover stomach. There was a whole LONG line of other desperate, possibly hungover, motherfuckers in front of me. Then, some poor really limping old guy, who walks like .333 miles an hour (at best) is trying to cross into the damn restaurant through the line of snaking cars, and the cocksucker in the minivan ahead of me wouldn't let him. I kid you not. [Don't get me started on minivan drivers.] It's not like bitch in the van could have gone anywhere anyway. Being the sweetheart that I am, I waved the old guy in front of me, and his TORTUROUSLY SLOW ass waddled in front of my car to the sidewalk.

I look over and notice the old fart is jabbering something at me and smiling like a crazed motherfucker. So I roll down the window somewhat hesitantly, and the man says: It's hell getting old.

I reply: Buddy, I'm not too far behind you. [Aware, of course, that my eating at McDonald's is probably expediting the process.]

So that shit was nice in an odd sort of way. And I got my egg, bacon, and cheese bagel FROM HEAVEN. And John Travolta was right in Pulp Fiction when he said: But bacon is so good. [Travolta is right about a lot of things, except for that weird Scientology garbage.]

Amen. Bacon is SO GOOD.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

I TOTALLY Stole this Shit Off Dlisted

But how could I not share this with you, my motherfuckers? I can't seem to get my mouth to close. My jaw has dropped and is resting on my chest.

More Shit SB Sez

There is a lady who's blog I read every day, and I don't know why I read that shit, her damn positivity makes me want to throw up. I guess I like to torture myself.

[And this bastion of brightness is NOT aware of my existence and is NOT a member of my blogging family.]

Coco's FAT Ass Putting on Makeup

For the horny Krauts. Bitte schon!

I'm guessing that bitch's eyesight is bad, if she's got to sit THATCLOSE to the damn mirror. Maybe her ass took over her entire gene pool and had to suck from the good-eye genes just to preserve its mighty self.

Also, who knew that Coco's FAT ass was so patriotic? Bitch has a red, white, and blue bathroom. That's some Dolly Madison shit raht thar.

Shit SB Says in an E-mail to Her Brother

I'm quitting the acupuncture. It's costing $75.00 a week, and I told her last night, I am done, at least for awhile. I love it though and found it very helpful, except that the acupuncturist was sort of old and scatter-brained and never remembered what she was treating me for. She lost my chart last night. Laugh. I hope she didn't stick me in the wrong places and I change personalities or some shit. What if I become a positive peppy republican-type person or some damn shit? Jesus.

This Is My Friend Michelle's House

I am ripping this off from her blog, because it makes me happy just to look at it. I love the colors. This is a house you could sit in and have a nice cup of hot chocolate and just be warm and all cozy and shit.

[Ignore the faux tree in front of the house. Michelle was just longing to see some greenery outside and shit.]

The SB Poll Is Boring My Ass So I'm Starting a New One

Looks like most people (including my ass) would not care to fuck The Donald, even for a million damn dollars. I sort of guessed as much. Fucker is creepy with that comb-over and shit. If I was Melania, I'd make him do something about that, or I would withhold fucky times.

Please look for a new, more interesting poll a little later on this morning.

This Picky Bitch Will NEVER Find a Damn Man

I’ve run ads and answered them. I’ve met people. I’ve failed at finding a quality man that has my minimum expectations for the love of my life. My list is never complete, since I haven’t found him…I’m not quite sure of all of his traits. I can tell you what he can’t have and apologize up front for the appearance of negativity. It’s really a positive that I know what I cannot tolerate AND that I may be flexible on the unlisted or unstated traits.

My man would NOT:

Be a user of illegal drugs (shows he does not respect those that lay down their life to protect kids from drugs)
Be abusive to himself or others (shows he is a lost cause)
Be a racist (shows he is blind to cell structure)
Be living paycheck to paycheck (shows he did not plan…being laid off is not part of this equation in this economy)
Be without a savings account or equity that could cover 6 months of income if he lost his job (shows he cannot plan)
Be without good oral hygiene (makes him unkissable)
Be an Atheist, devout Catholic, or Jewish. (Perhaps I find the stance too strong?)Be without laughter
Be plagued with any STD
Be filled with tension brow lines from scowling his adult life
Be overly clingy or overly aloof and distance in our relationship
Be a distant father either through lack of attendance or physical location
Be unable to slow dance in public or private
Be opposed to movies with subtitles once in a blue moon
Be squeamish from Tarantino movies
Be obese or my size (128#)
Be my height or shorter (I am 5′6″)
Be in need of a woman with a tan (never going to happen on this fair skin)
Be unable to deal with life issues, health issues, seeing a doctor on a regular basis for his age group
Be unable to say “I’m sorry” and mean it
Be a parent of mean, angry, or darkly unhappy child(ren)
Be still living with any ex
Be under 36 or over hmmm….65? (not really sure on age limits)
Be plagued with psoriasis or any other full body scaly rash
Be one to wear black pants with white socks to take me out dancing or…out anywhere in public
Be impatient
Be one to ignore grade school grammar and spelling
Be missing front teeth
Be addicted to drugs, alcohol, sex, pornography, or any other addiction that hinders his relationships with work, family, or friends.
Be ultra-liberal or one that does not vote in major elections
Be allergic to dogs or horses (cats are debatable)
Be opposed to PDA
Be one to send links, images of poor taste, or any other negative response
Be in a location more than 40 minutes from St.Paul

My man MIGHT respond to this ad. He MIGHT send me his phone number and photo so I can reach him via a blocked call. I will not respond to all emails. I will probably only respond to a few. My photo was taken today by yours truly. I’ve not put my face out there online before as I’ve been reserved in that way. I will attempt this and see what happens. There won’t be other pictures for me to send.

Please show me your best side. I hope I will have a lot to read that are not form letters that every woman gets. I’d love to hear your words flow through your finger tips to just me.

Me? I am divorced, have children that are able to care for themselves quite well, am mildly self-employed and prefer volunteering, horseback ride often, have an eye for fun and flirting and also the ability to settle in for night after night of cozy dinners and movies under a blanket. I am deeply steadfast to my loved ones, affectionate, slim, love comedy clubs and movies that make you think, laugh or appreciate great dialogue. I would enjoy traveling, love New England as a nice place to visit, hate the cold, have mild asthma during the cold season shift, enjoy eating out, dancing (can lindy), seafood, photography, Asian cuisine, am not a fan of jalapenos, listen to The Current, Golden Oldies and other random new hits, drink very little, never smoke, and am ready to hear from you.

More Shit SB Says

Do you think it would be wise to tell the acupuncturist I'm going to stop treatment after she sticks the needles in me?

This Photo Will Live to Haunt Them

Shit SB Says

People who are late piss me the fuck off, because what they're really saying is: My time is more important than yours. Unless you are Barack Obama, your time is decidedly not more important than mine, so get your fucking shit together and show up when you say you're going to show up.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Some Serious Shit SB Says

After a bad marriage, you have to have faith that you're still lovable. I do, but it's a halting kind of faith some days.

Or Maybe I Will Marry Again If I Can Find a Man Like This

Jeff Bridges says that staying true to his wife is what has made their relationship last.

"She really deserves it for the support and freedom she has given me. I'm so in love with her. The relationship just keeps getting better and more intimate and sexier and all that stuff.

You don't want to mess around with that."

And also, he's The Dude. Fuck yeah.

Evidently the Illusive Wolverine Likes to Do Fucky Times with Trees

I like to use my blog as a teaching tool sometimes, motherfuckers. You're welcome.

Corey Haim Dead at 38

I could see this shit coming from a mile off, but it still depresses me. I'm sorry the world didn't meet Corey's expectations. It doesn't meet mine most days either.

Link to NY Post story:

More Shit SB Says

You call it bitching. I call it motivational speaking.

Another Reason I Will NEVER Marry Again

EFCP - She Knows...

I might get this asshole for a husband.

Shit SB Says in a Blog Comment

I'm sorry. I love you, but I read the word MATH and my eyes just glazed over. I couldn't even focus on the rest of the damn post.

Frankly, I'd Rather Get a Jesus-y Card

Personally, I think I'd rather receive one of those overly-religiousy, celebrate-the-birth-of-Jesus-y cards than this shit. It's disturbing, frankly. Is it too damn much to ask motherfuckers to have a little taste when sending X-mas cards? I don't want to see your damn stretch-marky pregnant belly. GROSS.

Thoughts on Growing Older and Shit

On the way into work this morning, SB's ass got caught behind YET ANOTHER elderly motherfucker, who was driving about 7 miles UNDER the damn speed limit in town! It was a 35 mph zone, motherfuckers! Come on. A bitch hasn't got all day. Unless that bitch is elderly and retired.

I cannot wait until all the baby boomers join in the pensioner's fray, on top of the current elders out there. I do NOT mean to pick on the baby boomers, per se, because there are a good handful I love intensely. It's just that my patience is growing short. And between elderly motherfuckers holding me up in traffic or at the damn grocery, I have been having to spend a lot of extra time around the old fuckers of late due to the cataract surgery, and that shit is wearing THIN.

I guess I have never really spent a lot of time (UNTIL NOW) contemplating or FEARING old age. After all, what's the damn point? Nothing you can do about that shit. But I have to say it's really starting to frighten me. I think what really triggered this, is the old lady in the eye surgeon's office, who they wheeled in from a local home for the aged. That bitch could not SEE or HEAR, and I just don't know what the point would be. The poor office receptionist had to literally yell at the old bat to ask her stuff, and the old whore STILL COULD NOT hear! I was sitting near the old bag, and I was embarrassed. I wanted to flee the damn office, quite frankly. You sit there and start thinking: What if I am as bad off as that old bitch? And again: What in fuckssake would the damn point be?

My cousin Chris and I were discussing that shit, and he and I both decided we would blow our brains out if we were THAT fucking incapacitated. Chris even went so far as to ask SB to blow his brains out FOR HIM if he got old and couldn't do it hisdamnself. Of course, I told Chris that I love him AND THERE WAS NO WAY IN SAM FUCK I could do that. But, there you have it. I'm with Chris, basically. I vote for fire arms. Fortunately our family is all NRA and shit, and we will likely inherit plenty of fire arms to do the job.

I DON'T WANT TO GET OLD. A young man in line at the post office once said that fearfully to the Moms, who was standing behind him, watching some old bitch take three hours to pay for a few damn stamps. I understand and had the exact same damn thought in the eye surgeon's office.

If you, my blogging family, have anything comforting or wise to say about ageing, that shit is welcomed in the comments. SB is struggling!

[WARNING: And don't any of you bleeding-hearted babboons leave bullshit like "Shame on you" in the comments, because I don't want to hear it. There is no shame in being honest about how you feel, so fuck you in advance if you're thinking of posting that warm-hearted sympathetic shit.

And if you're a lurker, and I know there are plenty of you fuckers out there, grow some balls and speak up for once, but ONLY if you can be of help!]

Shit SB Says

I am going to KILL me a motherfucker if the fucking bore down the hall doesn't shut the fuck up. I DO NOT want to hear about the damn weather OR lunch OR your fucking opinion on the transfer of digital information. It's too damn early for that shit, asshole.

[And yes, SB is a wee tad grouch this morning.]

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Quote of the Day: Sean Penn

On people who criticize his work in Haiti:

I guess I've been so away from it all so I haven't had an awful lot of time to pay attention to them. You know, do I hope that those people die screaming of rectal cancer? Yeah. You know, but I'm not going to spend a lot of energy on it.

I Know WHY the Old Bitch Lived to 111

I have highlighted the reason in colored font for you slow motherfuckers.

From the NY Post today.

New York City's oldest resident, Staten Island supercentenarian Jane "Jenny" E. Gilsenan, died yesterday in the Presentation Convent Mother House in Woodrow. She was 111.

Gilsenan was one of the oldest people in the world.

"I'm lucky to live as long as I have so far," the super-centenarian told the Post in February from her home in a Staten Island convent. "I had nothing to do with it. It was wished on me."

Gilsenan never married and is survived by many nieces and nephews, and grandnieces and -nephews.

Gilsenan's death comes a day after the death of the nation's oldest person, Mary Josephine Ray, 114, who died in her sleep Sunday. Just a few hours later, Daisey Bailey, who was 113, died in Detroit, as the US's second oldest person.

The funeral for Gilsenan will be held today at the Casey-McCallum-Rice Funeral Home.

Yes, Virginia, There Will Be a Clause

Please check out my good friend Mark's typically insightful writing over at Huffington Post about the fuckery going on in Virginia.


Bitch Didn't Even Get the Damn Jawbreaker

Link to story of the moronic hooker:

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Motherfuckers

I'm 43-fucking-years-old, and I came to work with a damn hickey on my neck this morning. The Viking (new guy) gave me a hickey, and that shit is somewhat embarrassing. (It seemed like a good idea at the time, motherfuckers. This is the title of my future autobiography. Don't YOU DARE steal that shit either! It's my fucking intellectual property. I'm laying claim raht here.) Of course, I'm going to tell anybody who asks that the mark on my neck is from a curling iron burn, because I'm cowardly and shit like that. Besides, I don't want everybody all up in my business. I DO NOT LIKE NOSY MOTHERFUCKERS! AT ALL.

I was up until about 1:30 again last night, and I can't keep my shit together with so little sleep for two nights in a damn row. SB is STRUGGLING today, but I bleed for you motherfuckers. I can't leave my peeps hanging without a post. So this is it. You're welcome.


Things were silent at the gay cattery today. I knew you'd want an update on the situation.

I think it's great that I have gay cats. It just goes to prove that anybody (and I mean YOU, ignorant motherfucking Christians) who says it is not natural to be gay is full of shit. I have plenty of opposite sex moggies that Marley could chose from, but he digs the dudes. So there you have it. And you damn ignorant Christians can eat me.

Monday, March 8, 2010

SB Wants Some of This

I'd hit this shit running. And yes, I like pretty men.

Gay Humping Cats and Other Stuff

My ass was up til 1:30 last night, and SB's ass is a draggin' this morning, peeps. Whatever. Mondays suck dick either way.

Nothing much to report. I have scratches ALL OVER MY BODY (not because of good sex, goddammit), but because fucking Puppini did NOT want her damn Howard Hughes-like claws trimmed. I had to wrap Puppine's little ass up in a towel and swaddle the little motherfucker to get all the claws done. Her ass was NONE TOO HAPPY. She growled and spit and hissed the whole time. It was so cute! SB loves a tiny little enraged bitch.

When I left for work this morning, Marley was meowing like a damn banshee and trying to hump poor Tom. Tom's ass was just laying there, pressed down by Marley's weight. Marley was biting the back of Tom's neck. Fucker didn't seem to mind it. I told Marley, "Uhhhmmm excuse me, but Tom is a damn boy. This operation may not be entirely fruitful." Marley is not long enough in body to make it to Tom's sweet spot, so to speak. It is quite something to have to see that fucking shit when you haven't even had ONE DAMN CUP OF JOE YET.

The day can only go up from here, motherfuckers!

Friday, March 5, 2010

And YET MORE Shit SB Says

I think I need to buy a damn Bedazzler and start decorating my own stuff. It would be much cheaper, and it might be therapeutic. I could start Bedazzling everything. Even the cats.

More Shit SB Says

I spent $2.49 on a damn rhinestone-studded disposable cigarette lighter. So I get the fucker out of the package, and I find out the damn thing is only one-third full of fucking lighter fluid, and the back side of the lighter is plain. Some poor Chinese grunt probably made the equivalent of 10-fucking-cents to Bedazzle his ass off and glue that shit on, and it probably took his poorly-recompensed ass all day to turn just that one lighter out. All this, just so I can bitch and moan about his handiwork like the spoiled miserable American I am.

The German Pervert Is Back

ALERT! The German pervert is back looking at Coco's fat ass again. Guess my blog is cheaper than a porn mag. Whatever. Glad somebody finds a damn use for it.

Shit SB Says in Comments

Wowsa! I miss bras that make your tits look all pointed and shit. Now, that shit was glamour!

[If you want to see the AWESOME photograph that inspired this comment, check out my brother Hank's TOTALLY AWESOME photo blog. Link:

Sometimes he posts sexy shit.]

I wouldn't want to date this guy, despite the fact that he is a cat lover.

You just know you would always come second to the damn cat . I've been second to kids before, and MY ASS IS NOT COMING BEHIND THE CAT. Hell no.

[Also, I'm guessing that this guy was not very popular in high school.]

Quote of the Damn Day: Wanda Sykes

It's hard to get fired from the government. You have to, like, kill people.

Your Cute for the Day

You're welcome. And if you don't think Sebastian Bach is cute, I can't help your sorry asses. I'm considering turning this blog into a Sebastian Bach fan page.

Okay assholes, I'm kidding. I think.

Fuck You Cover Girl

SB bought some cheap-assed foundation from Cover Girl the other day, and this morning, I decided to open it up and put that shit on to glam myself up a little. What the fuck, it's Friday. BUT, I couldn't get their fancy girly-appeal goddamn container open. Fuckers. Being not at my best in the mornings, I just couldn't figure out how the fucking thing opened. I managed to get the applicator sponge out, but couldn't get to the creamy cocksucking makeup inside. Being the patient cheery morning motherfucker that I am, I promptly threw the goddamn thing in the porcelain sink and shattered the container all to bits. Sorry neighbors! My bathroom wall is also their bathroom wall.

The fucking thing STILL DIDN'T OPEN (I momentarily considered a hammer--I am not exaggerating either--I'm damn serious), so SB heaved that cocksucker right in the damn trash can. FUCK YOU COVER GIRL! I will never buy any of your cheap-assed products EVER again. [And I was laughing at Sebastian Bach on Celebrity Fat Chub last night because motherfucker got mad about losing a challenge (He couldn't figure out how to put a goddamn tent together, peeps! Shit was STRESSFUL.) and shoved a camera man. I laughed, but I would have done the SAME GODDAMN THING. If I am pissed off and your dumb primate ass shoves a goddamn camera in my face, you had better be fleet of foot!]

Thursday, March 4, 2010

DAMN and I Thought I Was Eccentric

This shit is wild. Link to Wiki entry on the Collyer brothers (the book I recommended in an earlier entry, Homer & Langley, was loosely based upon these two men):

Fascinating stuff. And yes, the brothers had eight cats. Shut up.

Save Knut's Nuts!!!

[Knut was so cute when he was little, SB wanted to eat him up! Well, he's all grown up now, and they want to take his nuts. Fuckers. Shit like this upsets me.]

Below is a link to a post that cracked my shit up. It is by Michael over at the fabulous Dlisted. Michael is my idol. If you want to find out why, READ MOTHERFUCKERS!


I Don't Know Whether I Believe this Shit or Not

[Photo caption: Even Johnny Depp has a bad hair day.]

I don't know whether I believe the story linked below or not, because Vanessa is pretty cool and seems like a pretty secure person, but if it is true, I don't blame her ONE DAMN BIT. Hell, I want to sleep with Angelina Jolie. Angie call me!

I told a friend last night that if I were Vanessa, I'd insist Johnny keep his dick in my vag during the entire film shoot.

Link to NY Post story:

Shit SB Says in Comments

I remember feather earrings being popular in the 80s. I can't go back there, man. I might start hearing disco tunes or some shit.

Stacie Mullins and Her Monstrous Boys Can Get Fucked

To say I am outraged would be an understatement.

Link to story:

SB Recommended Shit

This CD is all I have been listening to in my car for weeks now. I am still not tired of it. Highly recommended, if you like Morrissey or The Smiths. The more I listen to the damn thing, the more I dig it.
You can buy this novel cheaply off Amazon (used) because it's been out for several years. Excellent, gripping tale based on two actual brothers whose bodies were found buried amidst stacks of newspaper and collections in their own, once stately, home. Doctorow is such a great imaginative writer. I can't put the book down, and believe me, these days, it has to be one hell of a gripping book for me to finish it. I spend so much time on the computer everyday, I have basically NO DESIRE to read anymore. Anyhoo, highly recommended. Dark and disturbing and totally compelling.