Jehovah's Witlesses: Part of the Unique American Experience

The asshole licker (Ginger) scared off a pair of lady Jehovah's Witlesses this morning. They were a couple of VERY STERN looking black women. Ginger always goes ballistic when someone shows up at the door--doesn't matter who. She even goes ballistic when Mr. SB comes home from work at night. Then, when he comes in the house, she runs upstairs and hides. But, she DOES sound ferocious.

I couldn't even get the outer door open to talk to the grim Witlesses. The asshole licker kept hopping up and down on her back legs. I said, "I'm sorry ladies [I really wasn't], but there is just no way [pointing at the hopping asshole licker]. Besides, I'm a humanist."

Well, if looks could kill. The one STERNEST black lady was having NONE OF THIS HUMANIST BULLSHIT. She really truly frightened me. She just glowered at me like there was a VERY BAD taste in her mouth.

After I closed the front door, I praised the asshole licker for being a good dog and scaring the Witlesses off. I gave her a treat and patted her head. GOOD DOG.

The Moms has an interesting tactic with the Jehovah's Witlesses. She believes in honesty, so she hands them their literature back and tells them she'll only throw it out. "I won't read this," she tells them. "So let's not waste it. You can give it to somebody who might actually read it."

I love my mother.

The Goddamn Heater Stopped Working

Hi, kiddies! It's been a challenging morning here in Fuckall, Ohio. When my ass woke up this morning and went to jack up the heat in the house, the fuck-fucking-fucker would not come on. We have forced-air heat, and yes, I checked the breaker. It was on. Trouble is, Mr. SB is out of town on a business trip in beautiful Mormonfuck, Utah again. And the Daddums (the other man in my life) is still out in sunny Arizona at the Retirement Park of Nirvana. So, well, that leaves me slightly cold until late on Saturday night, when Mr. SB is due back. Thank God for the electric blanket, and thank God this didn't happen in fucking February or something.

So, this morning I ran a little late getting into work because I was knitting a sweater for Mercer. I will post pictures soon.

I don't know what this picture has to do with anything. It just illustrated COLD, alright?

SB Has a Bad Association with Mr. Spock

SB has good news: Ginger, the Diarrhetic Wunderkind, seems finally to be improving. I have only had to let her ass out once each night for the past two nights. I have also had to clean up no excrement on the fucking floor. I feel nearly optimistic this morning, and that's equivalent to an ecstatic morning for most of you fuckers, who for some twisted reason, actually like mornings.

We had BIG WIND (no, not Ginger) here last night. It was so BIG in fact, that when I looked outside, the goddamn fully-loaded-with-cheap-beer-cans recycling bin was gone. Smack dab gone. I looked this morning, but it is as if the recycling bin had just performed some sort of Star Trek-like beam-up. And no, SB is NOT A TREKKIE, so don't start trying to strike up a friendship based upon a mutual appreciation of Kirk or Spock or some shit because frankly my ass would rather watch paint dry than watch Star Dreck. BORING.

My old boss, David Mazer, did remind me of Spock though. He had all the human warmth of Spock, and his dumb ass was always asking for "data." Do you have data to support that? So Spock sort of has a bad association for me.

Sometimes, when I argue with Mr. SB, I tell him that I don't buy what he's saying, and I've got to see some data for that shit. I AM NOT BELIEVING ANYTHING UNTIL I SEE SOME FUCKING DATA!

SB had a great time with her old friend, L., last night. We drank some vino (okay, mostly ME drank some vino), and I showed her our heinous laundry room, which is so fucking small, SB is always banging her elbow, putting the damn wash in the dryer.

I wonder if Extreme Home Makeover would consider knocking our entire house down and building SB a new home with an EXTREMELY LARGE LAUNDRY ROOM AND ALL NEW SEARS APPLIANCES, INCLUDING A FRONT-LOADING WASHER AND DRYER WITH STEAM FOR WRINKLE REMOVAL because of my persistent misery and elbow handicap. SB is suffering! Help Ty! The soldiers from Iraq missing limbs will just have to wait.

Fainting Goat or Primordial Dwarf?

SB saw a special on primodial dwarves last night on TLC, and I am thinking of adopting one. I think they are adorable, and they are so small, they couldn't cost much to feed, which is important in this Bush-whacked economy.

For your edification and delight, here are photos of primordial dwarves. Warning: THE CUTENESS FACTOR IS NEARLY OVERWHELMING!

[CLUE: In both photos, the dwarf is on the right. World's largest man at bottom left. Damn you fuckers are slow!]

















The dwarves look like tiny adorable doll-people. The best part is, I could take the primordial everywhere with me! SB would never have to be lonely again! And they are so tiny, I could love them EVEN AGAINST THEIR WILL. How is something so small going to struggle and get away? It's just not viable.

I could probably even buy dog clothes at garage sales to save money on a wardrobe. Or, I could buy doll clothes, people! Think about it. The Moms would probably be so excited to have a grandkid within spitting distance, she might even sew the primordial an ENTIRE wardrobe!

The only problem might be everyday stuff, like the height of the toilet. You have to think about stuff like that because it might be an impediment. I could provide a step-stool or litterbox-train the primordial though. There are creative ways around everything if you have an agile mind, people! If SB doesn't teach you anything else, REMEMBER THAT.

Anyhoo, it's either a dwarf or a miniature fainting goat. I suppose I will have to check on availability and then make a decision. Also, I haven't discussed this with Mr. SB yet, but that's a minor OB-STACK-UL.

Toilet Paper: The Untold Story of the Civil War

Mr. SB: [closing a book] That was a really fact-filled book about the Civil War. Man, the details were unbelievable.

SB: Did it say whether or not they had toilet paper during the Civil War? I've often wondered. I would not have gone away to war if there was no toilet paper. Somebody needs to write a book on the role that buttwipe played in the Civil War. It's probably why the South fell. The North had all the supplies. The fucking Yankees commandeered all the buttwipe! That's why we lost.

My Lovely Co-Worker, T.

It is snowing to beat shit here AGAIN today, so you know what that means. The talk of weather abounds! ALL DAY it will abound MORE! Godfuckingdammit. Many of the schools and even some places of toil (work) are closed. Not mine, of course, and since I only live about two miles from my place of toil, it wouldn't look good to call out for snow, especially since one of my co-workers drove in from fucking Siberia in this tiny little microscopic piece-of-rice-on-wheels Toyota.

I was telling the WONDERFUL Mr. SarcBast, who took about 45 minutes to scrape my entire vehicle off from stem to stern (and also broke my ice scraper, which had sentimental value), about my friend, T., who happens to be from Vietnam and toils here at THIS PLACE, along with me.

On every cold, snowy day, T. offers to go out in the frozen-tundra parking lot to start the cars of his co-workers before their departure from said place of toil, so that they can sit their fat American asses in a warmed-up car on the journey home. I suspect he does this, not only because he is especially considerate of others, but also because his ass came over to this country on a VERY SMALL boat, loaded with WAY TOO MANY other unfortunate fuckers, some of whom expired on the trip, and they ACTUALLY HAD TO EAT THEIR BODIES TO SURVIVE! DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE EITHER--your fat American ass has likely never been starving--you don't know what you would do if you were that damn hungry! And T. probably knows what spoiled pussies most Americans actually are, and I think somehow, he may actually get some sort of unselfish enjoyment in coddling us further.

T. busts his nuts for America almost every day because he appreciates being here.