Thursday, December 23, 2010

Merry Fucking Christmas, Motherfuckers!

After today, SB's ass is off work until January 3rd. This is the BEST GIFT OF ALL. I am likely taking my laptop home, but probably won't be on the fucker much. Instead, my ass will be mostly drunk and reeking of stale cigarettes. These are a must when dealing with the fam-damily.

Anyhoo, Merry fucking Christmas, Happy damn Holidays, Festive Kwanzaa, or whatever floats your boat. To my blog family: I love your dumb asses. My life would be SO MUCH LESS without all of you in it. For once, I am NOT being sarcastic. It's not a trend, so don't worry.

Festive Wenscheslaus and Happy New Year to all (except Republicans)!


Tuesday, December 21, 2010

My Nana taught me to be nice to kitties. This bitch needs to learn that.

We had a local guy on the news who claimed his ass has a RIGHT to public transportation. I know it's (shudder) republican of me, but I never laughed so hard in my life. My ass, his lazy motherfucking ass has a RIGHT to public transportation. Eat me, buddy.

This kitten, though, surely has a right NOT to be FORCED to ride the public transportation. The kid is a little shit. I wish the little bitch would try this shit on Puppine. That would fix her wagon. Her ass would go through her pet-torturing life with one damn eye.

I Just Like the Damn Picture, Okay?

Here's some Christmas fuckery for you bitches. A Squid Christmas. Makes about as much sense as a damn virgin birth. Yeah right.

Friday, December 17, 2010

The Extraordinary Decency of President Jimmy Carter

The Moms donated some money to the Carter Center this past year, and she received a hand-signed Christmas card from President and Mrs. Carter. What an extraordinarily decent and upright thing to do.

More Shit SB Says

A bitch is wrapped tight. You could crack nuts with her asshole.

I dropped Puppine's precious feline ass last night, motherfuckers. THE HORROR. THE HORROR.

I was trying to give Puppine the outdoor Chrismas snow experience, but her ass didn't appreciate that shit very much, and the bitch climbed up on my back. The Viking was standing there, and since it was sort of an awkward thing, to be bent over with a damn feline on your back, I tried to dump Puppine's ass off my back on to a snow-covered table. A bitch is supposed to land on her damn feet, right? Am I right?

When I went to dump Puppine's ass off, a bitch refused to get her precious feet wet, so she just fell on her side with a loud THUMP. Even the Viking, who is NOT a particular fan of Puppine's, was concerned. Half the night, my petrified ass lay awake, eyes staring wide in the dark, frightened that I had internally injured Bella Puppini. It was a damn horror, I tell you.

I Just Like the Damn Picture, Okay?

If you value your eyesight and the skin on your worthless carcass, you could never do this shit to a cat.

If you are on crack and you want to purchase this shit, here is a damn link:

More Shit SB Says to Her Holy Idol, Ms. Moon

The legion was fun, but it smelled like smoke. I was hoping they still let you smoke there (a legion should be smoky), but I didn't see anyone smoking. I love the smell of stale smoke--it reminds me of my grandparents. My sweet daddy found out I like chicken drums best, so he gave me HIS drumstick. His WHOLE life has been a sacrifice for me.

Shit SB Says to Her Dear Friend, Syd

My Mom's family is all getting older now, and all those bitches do is sit around and talk about their damn ailments. That shit gets old.

Shit SB Says

I think Jesus is coming back as a gay man, and he's going to be REALLY PISSED.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Shocking Shit Grandma Peg Said to My Brother and I While Watching The Damn Dukes of Hazzard

[Background: My brother Steve and I were in elementary school when this shit went down. Every Friday night, when we stayed with Grandma, we watched The Dukes of Hazzard, The Love Boat, and Fantasy Fucking Island. The plane, the goddamn plane!]

Grandma Peg: That Daisy Duke reminds me of me when I was a young girl.

Steve: Grandma, did you run around with shorts halfway up your ass when you were a girl?


Like Most Everybody Else in the World, I'm in Love with Joanna Lumley

"There’s nothing better than a happy marriage, and I think there’s nothing worse than an unhappy marriage probably, so all these people who are looking for Mr Right – don’t worry too much if you can’t find him, because if he’s Mr Wrong then you’ll spoil his life and yours – so take care with marriage, you know."

Link to an excellent article on the very wise and lovely Joanna:

Shit SB Says to a Co-Worker

I have no interest in outerspace or extra-testicles AT ALL. I always figure if they show up here, it will be because they want to eat our brains or some shit. No thanks.

For Ms. Moon, Who Asked My Ass to Re-Post this Shit

Grandma Peg and the Humbel Nativity

My Grandma Peg LOVED Christmas. LOVED IT. She was nearly giddy with the glee of the damn season (SB calls it the Season of Darkness, so obviously my ass did not take after her. Also, Grandma had really big boobs, and I didn't get those either.).

Anyhoo, Peg loved Hummel figurines, which she called, Humbels, due to a slight hearing problem. (Yeah, and Elvis was Alvin Prescott, as you'll possibly fucking remember from an earlier post, but whatever. . .).

Grandma's ass splurged one year and bought herself the ENTIRE fucking Humbel Nativity. That shit was quite costly, as there is no accounting for taste, and Precious Moments figures were expensive once, too, right? Hummels and the Precious Moments make SB want to gag and bust them up WITH A FUCKING HAMMER, but again, I digress.

Before I go further, I should explain that my tiny southern grandmother was known for her eccentric decorating taste (she even wallpapered the backs of doors), and frankly, she had some fucking weird ideas about what went together. Also, a lot of her house looked like a fucking French whore house, but to her, that was GRAND DECOR, motherfuckers. That shit was posh.

Anyhoo, after purchasing the damn nativity, Grandma decided that her precious fucking manger was not showy enough and that the Baby Jesus should be spotlighted like a Barrymore in a play. After all, his infantile ass was supposed to be holy and worshipped by the animals and the damn Wise Men. He was THE POINT. He was THE STAR.

Grandma rigged a fucking Maglite to the roof of the manger, and SB's brother, Steve, would not stop making remarks and laughing about it. "Jesus Christ, Grandma, the Baby Jesus is going to be blind. How will he perform miracles WHEN HE'S BLIND?"

After that, undaunted by my brother's mirth, Grandma decided that the Humbel nativity didn't come with enough lowing beasts, so she bought some ill-sized cheap porcelain add-on animal figures that looked like they might eat the poor blinded Baby Jesus and worshipping Wise Men.

Well, of course, Peg thought that shit was JUST GREAT! Her manger would be the envy of the neighbourhood! She was SO PROUD of that cocksucking nativity, it was unbelievable. It had pride of place in the living room.

Note: My Aunt M. has the infamous nativity now and displays it every year, replete with the damn Maglite, which my brother still has to make rude comments about.

Shit SB Types to Her Idol, Ms. Moon


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Shit SB Says

I think this time of year is just trying all the way around, don't you? The weirdest shit happens this time of year.

We all get OLD. Who gives a shit?

Everything is okay. My ass is just uninspired and depressed by the fucking cold, darkness, and dreaded holiday season.

I just refuse to post crap in order to keep my blog active. You motherfuckers deserve better than that. If I find something that inspires me, I'll post. If not, no posty, motherfuckers.

Happy season of dreaded darkness and familial discomfort, or Festive Wenscheslaus, as I like to say for some damn reason. My advice? DRINK LOTS.

Love to all,


Friday, December 10, 2010

Shit SB Says to Her Dear Friend, West Hollywood Voyeur

I really dig Marilyn. I even have Marilyn Monroe thirsty-stone coasters (a collectible set). I shit you not. I broke one the other day and wanted to cry. Now I have a less-than-collectible set. Fuck it. They are still PRECIOUS to me, goddammit!

West Hollywood Voyeur is also PRECIOUS to SB's heart, and if you haven't checked out his highly amusing and eclectic blog, I suggest your asses do so RIGHT AWAY!

Quote of the Damn Day: The Moms

You're practicing being an adult, and I don't know how to treat you.

[SB is 44 damn years old. I hope I am not still just practicing at it.]

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Shit SB Says to Her Idol, Ms. Moon

The Viking brought me a bowl of those little pumpkin candies over for Halloween. They are still sitting on my shelf. He BROUGHT ME SOMETHING (jewelry or booze would have been better), but I couldn't bear to throw the candy away.

Love does strange things to a bitch--like making a bitch want to keep old nasty candy around and shit.

Another Fucking Quote of the Damn Day Because this Shit Made Me Laugh: Ms. Moon

[Note to SB's readers: There can be two Quotes of the Damn Day if I say so. It's my goddamned blog, and I can post whatever the fuck I want. If you don't like it, go read somebody else's crap.]

When I was in Marshall's some damn Christmas song was playing about how can it be a white Christmas if there's no snow, no snow, no snow?!! And I wanted to shout, WE GET IT! THERE'S NO FUCKING SNOW!

--Ms. Moon (SB's Idol of Greatness)

SB personally hates Christmas music (X-mas muzak is EVEN WORSE! Kill me now). It's a lot of happy fucking bullshit that just personally makes me feel bad about my own life, that is less than Martha Stewartish, and fairly nauseous on top of it. No carollers had better appear at SB's damn door OR ELSE! Those singing fucks will not be happily received.

This Woman is an Idiot

Link to story about a serial killer groupie bitch:

Quote of the Damn Day: Tom Ford

Who SB happens to think is one of the handsomest men alive. Now that I find out he is nice to the fatties, I love him EVEN MORE. [If you haven't seen his movie, A Single Man, you really should.]

I spend most of my time at home naked. You know, most people actually look better nude. We are all one harmonious colour, with a symmetry and an innate elegance. Fat women almost always look better without the constraint and lumpy pinching of clothes, all the straps and elastic squeezing and sucking.

We are the only animal that wears clothes, and that can't just be because dogs can't do up buttons.

Siamese Dog Twins!

When it/they play(s) fetch, do(es) it/they have to take turns retrieving? Maybe the sonofabitch just throws two balls.

I Guess I'm Done Eating Eggs FOREVER

The damn Germans killed a bunch of innocent Jews and now they've gone and ruined eggs for me, too. Thanks a lot, motherfuckers.

Fuck the teeth. This bitch needs something else for Christmas.

This bitch ALREADY HAS two fucked-up front teefs, but I suggest his dumb ass needs a good smack in the head to straighten out his damn eyes and some orthodontia instead.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Count Your Damn Blessings! There, that's SB's Precious X-mas Message to All You Thankless Fucks

Willie's ass may be blind, but he surely SEES one IMPORTANT fucking point. In case you are an illiterate fucking moron, that point is: COUNT YOUR DAMN BLESSINGS! Remember: IT COULD ALWAYS BE WORSE! You know it could. I mean we thought Nixon and Reagan were pretty damn bad, and then we got two terms of W. See what I mean?

Willie is one totally blind bitch, and that's sort of a crappy, but Willie realizes that a bitch could be limbless AND blind or retarded AND blind. Got me? Willie's blind cracker ass isn't sitting around pissing and moaning about his lot in life, so why the fuck should you?


Quotes of the Day: Jimmy Valvano

To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.

Cancer can take away all of my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart, and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever. I thank you and God bless you all.

A Bumper Sticker I Saw on the Farm Truck of a Damn Ohio Pinhead

Take America Back 2010!

After a small change that SB would like to make to the sticker.

Take America BackWARDS 2010!

Goodbye to a Lovely and Very Decent Woman

I thought a lot of Elizabeth Edwards. She was lovely both inside and out, and I just wanted to acknowledge her passing.

Godspeed, Elizabeth! I hope you are with your dear Wade. You have left your surviving children quite a legacy.

An Example of How Damn Fast Time Goes By

A psychotic asshole shot John Lennon 30 years ago today. I'm still depressed about it.

God bless you, wherever you are, Mr. Lennon.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Fuck Me! I Have an Unexpected Work Deadline

Dear Motherfuckers,
I won't be posting shit or getting around to any of your blogs until later in the week, due to an unexpected (fuck me!) work deadline. If this wretched Monday is indicative of the rest of my week, I may as well slit my damn throat now. My mind. is. shot.

Mondays suck ass.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Mark Olmsted Is My Idol

Mark's commentary on DADT and the mess that John McCain has become, is so spot-on, I can't stand it (link below). Like SB, Mark does not beat around the bush. I can't tell you how much I admire him. The reasons are pretty obvious. PLEASE READ (and Mark would appreciate your comments over at Huff Post).

Link to post:

A Tie-In Quote of the Damn Day: Kurt Vonnegut

Bill Gates says, ''Wait till you can see what your computer can become.'' But it’s you who should be doing the becoming, not the damn fool computer.

I automatically thought of this quote of Vonnegut's when I read the Foster Wallace quote below. As far as I am concerned, both men possessed two of the finest, most-humane minds that I've ever had the pleasure to encounter. This, despite the fact, that Mr. Bret Easton Ellis so seems to devalue and abhor their "Mid-Western faux-sentimentality."

Fuck you, Mr. Easton Ellis.

Quote of the Damn Day: David Foster Wallace

So I think it's got something to do with, that we're just---we're absolutely dying to give ourselves away to something. To run, to escape, somehow. . . . And so TV is like candy in that it's more pleasurable and easier than the real food. But it also doesn't have any of the nourishment of real food. . . . What has happened to us, that I'm now willing--and I do this too--that I'm willing to derive enormous amounts of my sense of community and awareness of other people, from television? But I'm not willing to undergo the stress and awkwardness and potential shit of dealing with real people.

And that as the Internet grows, and as our ability to be linked up, like--I mean, you and I coulda done this through e-mail, and I never woulda had to meet you, and that woulda been easier for me. Right? Like, at a certain point, we're gonna have to build some machinery, inside our guts, to help us deal with this. Because the technology's just gonna get better and better and better and better. And it's gonna get easier and easier, and more and more convenient, and more and more pleasurable, to be alone with images on a screen, given to us by people who do not love us but want our money. Which is all right. In low doses, right? But if that's the basic main staple of your diet, you're gonna die. In a meaningful way, you're gonna die.

SB was having some of these same thoughts while waiting in the doctor's office yesterday, watching how many people were texting or talking on their cell phones, in their own worlds. Quite frankly, it made me feel sort of sick and creeped out.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Quote of the Day: Tom Green

The victims aren't really victimized in a way that it comes off totally mean-spirited or negative, ... It's a fun, fun victimization, if that's possible.

[Tom Green and Eddie Izzard are SB's favorite comedians.]

I know I sure as fuck don't.

If I had kids, I'd buy the little bastards this, but then I don't care about children either.

We've Already Established that I'm Immature

Uhhhmmmm, Okay

I don't know about you all, but I'd buy this shit for 25 cents at a garage sale just to figure out what the fuck was going on here. Call me curious!

[Actually, I'd try and bargain a bitch down to 10 cents for this shit and only go up to a quarter if I HAD to.]

Maybe this Wonk-Eyed Bitch Can Borrow Some Glasses Instead

Buy Cody's album, so a bitch can afford a shirt with sleeves for the follow-up to this smash!

Shit SB Says

Poetry, with very few exceptions, bores the living shit out of me. Most people are just so bad at it. I used to write it, but now even my own stuff puts me to sleep. I once participated in a poetry reading and, of course, I loved that. I have this theory that all writers are dickless frustrated actors.

One of the Funniest Things I've Read in Awhile

Especially if you have dogs. Check that shit out, motherfuckers!


Wednesday, December 1, 2010

A Pair of Confident Bitches

If these two fug hos can manage to be confident, what's your damn excuse? This is for all you bitches with low self esteem. Suck it up!

Shit SB E-mails Her Idol, Ms. Moon

Sorry you had those sorts of dreams. They really fuck with your rest. I had weirdo dreams again last night, and then to boot, I woke up at about 5:00 and couldn't go back to sleep (I get up around 6:30 normally). I should have just gotten up, but when it's cold out, I like my beddy. I lay there and thought about how, if I am lucky(?), I have 20 more years or so left, and then I started thinking how quickly the last 20 went, and I got VERY FRIGHTENED of DEATH. So that shit was productive, right?

I have my follow-up appt. with the urologist tomorrow at 4:00. So today, I am keeping my
Bladder Diary [I shit you not.], recording how much I drink and when I piss and how much. I feel like a fucking geriatric. Jesus.

Shit SB Says

I'm all for gay marriage. Why should straight people be alone in their misery?

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Shit SB Says to Her Darling Friend and Idol, Ms. Moon

The magnolias on the stairwell look swell! You are giving fucking Martha Stewart a run for her money, sister. I hate that bitch.

The Coolest University of Georgia Football Fan

We got Sam Jackson, motherfuckers. TOP THAT SHIT.

Back, but Not Fucking Back

I'm back, but I'm not back, because my ass is just not "with it" today. Weird dreams, peeps. The sort that leave you foggy and befuddled all damn day.

Thanks for all the comments and thank you to the handful of new followers I received over the long holiday weekend. I appreciate it more than you know, and I love my blog family. You motherfuckers know who you are.

I'll be back to posting more regularly as soon as my brain gets back to functioning at full capacity. My ass is just impaired today.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

I'm Sorry, but I Think this Is Hysterical

I'll be laughing all damn day. I know it's kind of shitty of me to post this, after saluting the homeless man who returned the money he found in a prior post today, but whatever. If you want consistent behaviour, I'm probably not the blogger for you, so fuck you.

Link to story of befuddled pensioner losing life's savings on his car roof. Dumb ass.

Looks like the motherfucker won't be retiring for awhile now. I hope he likes decorating.

There Are Still a Few Decent People Left in this Cold World

Link to story:

Happy Rape of the Native Americans Day, Motherfuckers!

SB is taking a blog-cation beginning today until next Tuesday. MY ASS IS NOT GOING NEAR A DAMN COMPUTER UNTIL THEN. I'd like to wish all you motherfuckers a very Happy Thanksgiving (unless you live somewhere besides the States--although that would give you something to REALLY be thankful for, now wouldn't it?).

Here are my posts for Thanksgiving last year. A BITCH IS RECYCLING!

Shit SB Says on the Day Before Thanksgiving

Would it be better to commit suicide or to stop by Kroger on the way home from work tonight? It's a toss up. All I have to do is pick up a few bottles of wine. If the lines are long, I'll grab an extra bottle and drink it while I'm waiting. I'll buy an extra cork-pull and a box of straws in case.

[Note for my UK friends: Kroger is our supermarket chain, like a Sainsbury's.]

Pass the Tomatoes, Motherfuckers

It's that time of year again, motherfuckers. My Indian blood is once again at war with my white-ass cracker blood. Only part of me can enjoy this time of year, because the other (Native American) part realizes that, despite the fact that my people helped whitey to survive in the New World, whitey turned around and fucked us in the ass by pillaging our land, raping our women, ravaging our tribes with disease, and basically shoving liquor and worthless land at us. As you can imagine, It's hard to enjoy the fucking turkey when this omnipresent second perspective is involved. Sometimes [Northern Exposure fans], I'd like to throw a tomato at my damnself.

[The Thanksgiving holiday and what whitey was ACTUALLY saying.] "Thank you for helping our cracker asses to survive in the New World. We couldn't have done it without you teaching us about how to grow corn and shit. In apology for building strip malls on the sacred land on which your elders are buried, here's some liquor and a reservation for you to enjoy. No--not a dinner reservation--an actual place called a reservation for your Tonto ass to call home. Oh, and should we find valuable minerals or oil on your land, we might appropriate that land, too, (our government gives us the right after all) and just move your inconvenient no-job alcoholic asses to a new reservation. But, thanks again for helping us make it here. We appreciate hell out of it. We really do."

I hope I can keep my turkey down this year. Pass the tomatoes, would you?

Monday, November 22, 2010

SB Is in a Grouchy Shitty Motherfucking Mood

For this reason, I may not be posting dick today. Gray Mondays suck ass.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Welcome Visitor from Rotterdam Who Is Wanking Off to My Blog

Welcome visitor from Rotterdam who is wanking off to my photos of Coco and her big fat ass! I am so glad to perform some sort of public service while entertaining the masses. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME BACK AND JERK OFF AGAIN!

Another Quote from John Irving

"And the thing about love," Wally said to Angel, "is that you can’t force anyone. It’s natural to want someone you love to do what you want, or what you think would be good for them, but you have to let everything happen to them. You can’t interfere with people you love any more than you’re supposed to interfere with people you don’t even know. And that’s hard,” he added, “because you often feel like interfering - you want to be the one who makes the plans.

“It’s hard to want to protect someone else, and not be able to,” Angel pointed out.

“You can’t protect people, kiddo,” Wally said. “All you can do is love them."

Quotes of the Damn Day: John Irving on Religion and God

Religious freedom should work two ways: we should be free to practice the religion of our choice, but we must also be free from having someone else's religion practiced on us.

It's not god who's fucked up, it's the screamers who say they believe in him and who claim to pursue their ends in his holy name.

Note: I've often wished John Irving was God. I think the world would be a lot kinder, saner place.

Shit SB Says to Her Beautiful Idol Ms. Moon

I guess I'll have to come to Florida to hang with some virgins. We don't have any here in Ohio. When you live in a boring state, all there is to do is eat out and fuck.

Okay, that was crude. So shoot me.

Shit SB Says to a Co-Worker

When we went to Bob Evans the other night, we got there kind of late, and a van load of retarded adults got out and started going in ahead of us. There were about eight of those motherfuckers, and it was TOTAL CHAOS. I said to the Viking: Oh great, clearly God loves us, when one lady started screaming at one of the aids and one poor hapless motherfucker got wedged between the entry door, trying to open it for the others. Of course, during all the chaos, we took the opportunity to cut ahead of them in line.

Shit Uncle Gene Says When Asked What He Wants for His Upcoming 81st Birthday

I want to be alive.

While Waiting to Get My Tits Jammed in a Vice

While I was waiting for my mammogram yesterday, I sat and stared out the window into the parking lot of the hospital below. I watched a lot of decrepit oldsters struggling to walk to and from their cars and several REALLY FAT people struggle just to exit their automobiles. It took one fat middle-aged fuck nearly five minutes just to hoist his fat double-wide ass out of the seat and stand up. It really sent me a message that I need to clean up my damn act, so that if I am blessed (sarcasm) to live long enough, I don't wind up an embarrassing fat struggling blob.

I have a diet book (I know it's fruitless and futile, but shut the fuck up) shipping (one-day ship) to my fat ass today. I ordered that shit off Amazon, in a panic, after the soul-chilling hospital experience. Also, I should mention that the damn Viking is a fucking 6 foot 4 stick man, who happens to be built like a high school basketball player (the Moms and Daddums fondly refer to him as "String Bean"), and I don't want people to laugh because he dates a fatty.

Bonding with Puppine

I'm not sleeping as well as I might of late, due to the fact that Teeny Weeny Puppini has taken to crawling up and sleeping on the side of my head several times each night. After she stops purring and fall asleep, her little body shudders over and over again, as if she is in the Garden of Earthly Delights or some damn shit. What sort of asshole would a hardened callous motherfucker have to be to to wake up a bitch who is dreaming her ass is in the Garden of Earthly Delights? I just don't have it in me. I should probably go back to taking Ambien again. When I take that shit, a dump truck could park on my head, and I wouldn't know it.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

A Catch-All Apology that Covers EVERY Situation

I'm sorry. I don't remember doing that. I was drunk.

Try it out! You're welcome, motherfuckers.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Shit SB Says to the Moms

I think I got my new foundation shade too light. I look like I belong in Noh theater or some shit.

More Shit SB Says in Comments on My New Friend Danny's Site

I love your programme idea. I'd watch it, man. I once had an idea for a Manson Family Thanksgiving programme. Instead of carving the turkey, Manson would carve swastikas on the guests' foreheads. What do you think?

[Note to the short-bus Americans who read my crap: Programme is the proper was to spell the word program. It refers to a TV show in this case.]

Danny's eclectic site (SB recommended, motherfuckers!):

Shit SB Says in Comments to a Dear Friend

That's exciting about hanging out with the Ghost Adventures cast. The paranormal fascinates me. I watch a lot of those types of shows. I have even experienced a few minor things myself (my house is very old), but maybe I was just drunk.

Having a Fight with a Dickless Wonder Over at Anna's Blog

Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you'd had enough oxygen at birth?

And, if fat people have to stick together, I think peanut-sized nutsacks should have to hang together, too. Your challenge is to go and find that group.

November 17, 2010 8:55 AM

A Most Perplexing Question to Ponder

Why is it that the fattest motherfuckers drive the smallest fucking cars?

[Bet my ass the guy in the post below drives a damn Speck. Is it some sort of strange natural law of attraction: people + fat = inordinately small automobiles? It takes nearly a yogic miracle for one of the fat guys here at work just to exit his damn car. Of course I have to watch. You would, too, and you DAMN WELL know it! That shit is a marvel.]

If any of you geniuses can answer this shit, leave it in the comments.

NEW SB Feature! If I Could Do that Shit All Over Again (or Life Tips for You Ingrateful Young Useless Fucks)

Fuck more (but wear a damn condom, you dumb little bastards) while you still have the energy and no beer gut, hangy skin, or saggy damn titties. I enjoy running around naked now, but no one wants to see that shit [at least no one who wants to keep their eyesight].

You're welcome.

Dude Is Having One Motherfucker of a Night

We've all been there, so don't be judging this poor dolt, you lofty-ass motherfuckers. You know you've been in similar circumstances, and your ass just got lucky. The pigs (make that any authority figure) make SB's ass nervous, so it COULD HAVE happened to moi. Point is, we're not here to judge. Let's leave that shit to the tight-sphinctered tea partiers. Those motherfuckers wouldn't know how to REALLY throw it up if they tried.

Stankin' drunk-ass video dude may be one short bus motherfucker, but at least he knows how to throw it up! Throw it up, motherfuckers. Throw it up! [To quote Lil' Jon. SB is a FAN, Lil' Jon. Throw that shit up!]

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

An SB Beauty Tip for Bitches of a Certain Age

Remember girls, a really tight ponytail can also serve as a cheap instant face lift.

You're welcome, bitches!

Monday, November 15, 2010

Shit SB Says in Reply to Her Idol, Ms. Moon

There is nothing so ridiculous or embarrassing as Americans on vacation.

Friday, November 12, 2010

More Shit SB Says on the Telephone at Work to the Ex-Husband

I will be happy to donate, as long as your promise you won't try and convert the pygmies. You know I don't go for that shit. Don't be Bible-thumping the damn pygmies. They have enough problems. Bitches are so remote, they can't even get a decent haircut.

Unless You are Bo Derek or Jamaican, You CANNOT Carry this Hairdo Off, So Don't Even Try Dumb Ass

The poor kids--with genetics like that--they are NEVER going to stand a chance at being cool. If you don't believe my ass, look at the dork in the middle.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Shit SB Says to a Co-Worker

Did your dumb ass come out here to destroy my equanimity? I work hard for that shit.

Mercer Says Good Afternoon to All You Motherfuckers

Actually, she says FUCK YOU (unless your dumb ass has a snack for her).

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Quote of the Damn Day: Robert Downey Jr.

But as long as I don't forget the past, I'm cool. One must always be mindful, just like you might forget that old girlfriend who tried to slit your throat, but she's really still hot. If you remember the stitches more than you remember the pussy, you're going to be just fine.

Go. See. It.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

I Just Like the Damn Photo, Okay?

This shit just screams TENDERNESS or LUNCH, perhaps?

Shit SB Says in Comments to Her Dear Friend, Jeannie

If you locate your penis, please let me know where. Maybe then I can find my own. I've always wanted one. I've been marrying them, but that just causes too much damn trouble.

Jeannie's fantabulous blog:

Conversation with a Co-Worker

You know the Cleveland Browns have a pretty good team this year.

That's what I've heard, but I just can't wrap my mind around that. It's like George W. Bush suddenly becoming intelligent.

[Sorry Tom J.]

Monday, November 8, 2010

My Great Aunt's 80th Birthday Party

Over the weekend, the Moms and I drove our fat asses to Indianapolis, Indiana, to my Great Aunt's birthday party. Teta's ass made it to 80. Holy fuck! Of course, her ass proceeded to sleep through most of her own party, but the way I see it, it was HER DAMN PARTY, plus at 80, a bitch should be able to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, right? Are you with me, motherfuckers?

[I forgot to mention that on the drive over to Hoosierville, I nearly killed us in a cocksucking construction zone. I was trying to find a CD in my holder, and the Moms said: Let me find it. You are driving. So I says: No, I'd prefer to put both our lives in danger. And almost instantly, I started to drive off on the damn shoulder, and then had to try to use the steering wheel to right the fucking car, and it was a scary minute, let me tell you, good people. We almost took some sonofabitch in a Neon out in the next lane. I really only sweated injuring the Moms. I am never in a panic over my own life. I am a depressed person. I just don't have the damn energy.]

Teta got a little pissy when my sister tried to help her feisty ass open the gift we brought her. Bitch said: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, DEBBIE!

My Aunt is like a short little 80 year old Macedonian fireball. THOU SHALT NOT FUCK WITH HER! Do not. Try it.

Anyhoo, at one point during the damn fiesta, the Moms and I got trapped by this lady my Aunt worked with years ago in psychiatric nursing. Bitch was a nice enough lady, but BOY WAS HER ASS A CHATTY MOTHERFUCKER! Jesus Christ. I escaped, but the poor Moms was stuck for quite a damn while [I abandoned her ass. It's every man for himself when a chatty motherfucker comes around!]. It was like--Jesus Christ lady, take a damn breath. It's a wonder there was any oxygen left in the room for the rest of us.

My ass ambled over to the dining table at one point, where Teta was holding forth with a very old friend--a cute old gentleman--who said they had just diagnosed him with the Alzheimer's. He said: Oh well, what can you do? And that's right, goddammit--what IS a bitch to do? The way I see it, the old fucker had the right attitude.

Teta has the damn dementia, so her ass introduced the Moms and I and turned our names around. She also introduced me as the mother and the Moms as the daughter. I said: Shit, Teta, don't make me any damn older. Jesus.

The third lady at the table told us she was 82, and her ass was in pretty good shape for 82. Later though, my sister took us aside and said the old bitch was actually 81. What the fuck ever, I say. What does it matter when you're that fucking old if you want to add a damn year or two on? Go the fuck ahead. What's another damn year when your ass witnessed the Ice Age? Sometimes, I tell motherfuckers I'm 50, just so they'll say I look good for my age. It makes me feel better about myself. Fuck it.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Quote of the Damn Day: May Thigpen

It is easy to get disillusioned, but the more I thought about it this morning the more I clearly saw how people never see the affect they have on the world. All the people who got arrested to sit at lunch counters, or to love the ones they love, they were each one person in one moment in time. Did it make their lives better? No, it probably made their lives pretty shitty actually, but it makes our lives better. We would be letting them down if we gave up so easily.

[I hope it's okay that I posted this, May. I adore you! You are VERY WISE.]

Way to Go, Santa Ana Sphincter Police

"There was nothing they could do, of course, there was no suspect and no crime had been committed. The officer said 'what it is, is a string on a door.' My vision got blurry, I was embarrased and felt stupid for making the call. I took a deep breath and said 'Do you see any correlation between the fact that this is a gay office and there was a noose left on our door in the wake of all of these teen suicides?' The officer said, 'Sometimes you just have to live with being a victim,' and proceeded to mention that his car had been broken into before."

Link to full story about the sphincter police:

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Shit SB Says in Comments to the Gorgeous Ms. Moon, Her Damn Idol

Wowsa. Now that's a compound! Can't see a damn thing wrong with it, except the mannequin. That shit gives me the creeps. That bitch would have to go! I wouldn't be able to come and visit until her ass went. I would be afraid to go to sleep. I have serious mannequin issues.

Quote of the Damn Day: the Inimitable Ms. Moon

I'll say this- money may not be able to buy you love but it can sure buy the fuck out of an election.

I'm not dead. I just wish I were.

I'm not dead. My damn laptop just came down with a handful of viruses (we all clean now), so I have a lot to catch the fuck up on. I'll be back to posting soonish.

Love to all my motherfuckers!

Friday, October 29, 2010

Shit SB Says in Comments

I have a few pictures of Coco's fat ass on my blog and perverty Germans are always coming by and checking that shit out. They are probably wanking off to it. Oh well, at least my blog serves a purpose, even if it's just fodder for a Germanic wank fest.

SB's Favorite GA Bulldog

I know this Georgia football shit bores most of you motherfuckers, but indulge me. It's my damn blog, so I HAVE CONTROL! I can write about WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT! And I love this man. He is my favorite Georgia Bulldog. Bad-ass motherfucker is going to kick some damn Gator butt tormorrow. As a bonus, dude can dance like a motherfucker. During the warm-up last week at the UGA/KY game, fucker was shaking some fine ass out on the field. [Dancing with the Stars call Washaun's fine young ass NOW!]

SB LOVES YOU, WASHAUN EALEY! Fuck you, Gators--the Dawgs are going to take a chunk out of your overfed fat dumb Gator asses tomorrow. We're comin' for you, motherfuckers!

[Supportive comments about the Gators will not be posted. Bite my Georgia ass.]

Shit SB Says

I got an over-priced German Bob Marley coffee cup at the Kroger here in Buttfuck, Ohio. How cool is that?

Get up, stand up, motherfucker!

SB Would Hang with These Bitches

Memaw's Teabagging for Jesus

used Pictures, Images and Photos
Bless her little heart!

Wonder (Old) Woman

Even Wonder Woman turns in to an old-ass woman with hangy tits and flabby thighs. It happens to everyone, bitches! EVEN LYNDA CARTER AGES. If it can happen to her, it can happen to any of us. If I don't teach your special-ed asses anything else, let it be that.

One Fucked-Up Halloween Costume

If this bitch is passing out candy, my ass doesn't want any! Cheap perverty-ass motherfucker. I guess he couldn't get his genitals and his brain together. His dick wanted to go as Spider Man. The rest of his conflicted ass wanted to be Tigger.

Another Shitty-Assed Album Cover

Ken's ass is special. He won't sing just any old song for you sorry-assed motherfuckers. A bitch has got to request that shit in advance!

On a side note, I think Ken could use a stylist. Leisure suits and porn staches went out in the 70s. Ladies, I'll bet Kenny boy has a sideline offering mustache rides (by request only, bitches!).

And yes, Grandma Peg, somebody's mind is in the gutter this morning. Guilty!

Thursday, October 28, 2010

The World's Worst Album Covers

I expect they need one member who can see so the other two don't fall off the stage. Also, the Braillette in gold has some fucked up teefs. If a bitch is going to be on a damn album cover, you'd think the record company would shell out for some damn dentistry.

A bitch is already blind goddammit, she should at least have purdy teefs!

Shit SB Says About Her Favorite Cereal

That shit is magically delicious!

Monday, October 25, 2010

The One Amish Motherfucker Who Knows How to Throw Down

SB would hang with this Amish. Clearly, motherfucker's Amish ass can throw down! I wouldn't hang with the other bitches though--mostly because motherfuckers don't drink and swear, and they're not liberal with the sexy times. Also the backwards bitches like to make quilts and cheese and woodcrafts and shit. BORING. Fuckers enjoy raising barns, for christsakes. All this = NO GODDAMN FUN.

And I had fucking well BETTER NOT be getting any Amish hate mail about this. You damn Amish aren't supposed to have computers. That electronic shit is the work of the Devil! Girl, you know it's true.

Depression Can Make Us Sad

I just encountered an article entitled, Depression Can Make Us Sad. No shit, motherfucker. The guy probably did YEARS of research to back that up.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Going to Lexington Tomorrow to the UGA/KY Football Game

[Here's a photo of VIII for all you thankless bitches!]
If any of you motherfuckers live around Lexington, KY, or are going to the game, you can buy my ass a drank.


Dr. Hans Holzer Will Get to Test His Own Theory

Hans Holzer was a famous parapsychologist who died recently. I found his ideas interesting. [I'm not saying I believe this theory (I guess I don't find it more improbable than anything else), just that I find it of interest. Actually, I find anything about the afterlife or parapsychology of interest.]

According to Dr. Holzer [the bad news, in SB's view, is that we can't even escape fucking bureaucracy in death]:

“You’ll notice that the other side of life is a bureaucracy just like this one. You can’t just call Uncle Frank [who’s still living]. You have to get permission from a group of people who call themselves guides – spirit guides. They will say, ‘Why do you want to make contact? What’s your purpose?’ And if they approve of it, they’ll say, ‘Okay, find yourself a medium somewhere, speak with them, and they will make contact for you.’ Or if you’re that strong, you can try to make contact yourself.

“And if you don’t like where you are after a while -- you may have a consciousness that you’ve been there a certain period and feel that you would rather be back on the other side with friends and loved ones. You’ll say, ‘I’d like to get reborn again.’ These are the words I got from them, they’re not my invention. They [the spirits] said you have to go to a line, and you have to register with the clerk. ‘Clerk’ is the word they used. So you get in line and register with the clerk that you want to go back. The clerk says, ‘Okay, I’ll let you know when I find an appropriate couple for you that will advance your development.’ They have no real sense of time, so they just stand there, and eventually the clerk will say, ‘I’ve got a couple for you.’

“There is a well and they [the spirit about to go back] must walk through that well. They call it ‘The Well of Forgetfulness.’ They are sprayed with this water – not 100%, it never quite covers everything. That’s why people have memories, dej√° vu experiences, and recurrent dreams. And then they are a baby again.

“What I have learned in my investigations is that there are seven levels of consciousness on the other side of life that are concentric with our world. It’s not up or down, it’s just concentric. We can’t see it because it moves at a different rate of speed than we move.”

“There’s three levels when you are born. You are born with a physical outer body, a duplicate inner body, and at the very moment of birth – that’s very important – the moment the child is supposed to see the light [during childbirth], that is when the soul or the spirit is inserted from the pool of available spirits from the other side. Therefore all this nonsense about abortion killing a child is pure lies, pure nonsense. The fetus, until the spirit of the child is inserted, is a physical part of the mother. It does not have any life – it’s not a separate entity.”

Quote of the Damn Day: Mark Twain

Last week, I stated this woman was the ugliest woman I had ever seen. I have since been visited by her sister, and now wish to withdraw that statement.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Two of SB's Favorite Musical Artists

If you have something negative to say, I don't want to hear it. Fuck you.

A Rebel at the Damn Sexist Lutheran Church

When SB used to be roped into attending a Lutheran church with her ex-husband, they always had sections where the congregation was divided into the men and the women to do a response reading. Shit pissed me off. That bullshit was SEXIST AS FUCK. To prove a damn point, my ass read with the men.

SB is a DEFIANT MOTHERFUCKER, like Steve McQueen and John Mellencamp. It's a Midwestern thang, bitches! If you're not from the Midwest, your dumb ass will not understand.

Shit SB Says

White men can't jump and they suck at reggae.

Monday, October 18, 2010

More Shit SB Says

When you say I WON'T HAVE IT (and mean it), it illustrates to motherfuckers that you in charge of your own personal ship. YOU ARE THE CAPTAIN, BY GOD, AND YOU WILL NOT BE FUCKED WITH!

[So don't even try it, you dink-dicked lesser-thans.]

Shit SB Says in a Damn E-mail to Ms. Moon

FUCK THAT SHIT is right. He already e-mailed me to be sure I wasn't still mad at him. I told his ass that it hurt my damn feelings. IT DID. I'm very sensitive for a bastard.

I don't know what I'll do with Ginger. If it is THE CANCER, she's too damn old to do a lot of treatment. I won't have it. I love that phrase. I WON'T HAVE IT. I say that a lot lately. That shit is multi-purpose. If you say it very determinedly, motherfuckers listen up.

A Portrait of the Trials of Motherhood

DAMN. Thanks to all you bitches who do the largely thankless job of mothering ALL us other bitches.

The Damn Cat Shat All Over the Moms' Good Blue Carpet. Fucker.

Recently, the Moms and Daddums went to visit my yuppy brother's ass out in Massachusetts. SB got stuck taking care of their bitchy, freakishly tiny Siamese (fucker is a Flame Point) cat, named Boo. We think that Boo is actually my Grandpa Heeter reincarnated. There are a number of justifiable reasons for this, such as the tiny little motherfucker showing up out of the blue in mom and dad's back yard all declawed and shit and the fact that the little bitch is all grouchy-looking like Grandpa Heeter. [Side Note to All You Bitches: Boo also sort of resembles a damn space alien and/or Steve McQueen. He does! The photo for this post is NOT actually Boo, so don't be getting all superior and shit and thinking, "That motherfucker doesn't even slighty resemble a Steve McQueen space alien." Fuck you, because you don't KNOW.] Also, Grandpa Heeter was a grouchy cheating alcoholic bastard [this is going to make the Moms MAD, but it's true], so we figure the fucker probably didn't exactly reach reincarnational heights, hence cathood.

Anyhoo, the Moms had just paid to have the good blue carpet in the dining room, professionally cleaned. Boo's dumb ass was previously having some kind of shitting issue, but he was leaving his shitty deposits on the hard basement floor, so the good carpet was not in peril.

Before leaving for my yuppy brother's, the Moms said that she thought Boo was over the shits, but just to watch out when I stepped down into the darkened basement, IN CASE.

The first trip over to the folks', the little bastard had shit in three different places on the basement floor. Since Daddums (paranoia deep destroyer) turns off the water whenever they are gone for more than a day, my ass had to figure out how to get the dried shit up off the basement floor. I did the best I could, motherfuckers, but that shit was not easy to get up.

The second trip over to tend to the little fucker, the motherfucker had shit all around the dining room table (about eight cocksucking times), and again, some of the shit had dried and stuck to the good blue carpet. SB was on lunch hour, so I had to spend a good half of my lunch hour cleaning up the little bastard's shit. Fucker. I wound up laughing hysterically, until tears ran, when I thought about how MAD the Moms was going to be! I even called the ex-husband and had him laughing about HOW MAD THE MOMS WAS GOING TO BE.

I told Boo: "You'd better stop that shit right now, Boo, or else the Mom's and Daddum's will put your shitting little motherfucking ass TO SLEEP!" Fucker was disinterested, totally unconcerned. Fucker. Did I mention Boo is a fucker?

Before they left for the trip to MA, the Moms and Daddums took me out to dinner for watching Boo. After they got back on Saturday, I told them that Boo stressed me out so much and was such a damn pain in the ass, that I expect a spa weekend or some shit. I think it's only fair.

Did I mention that Boo is a goddamn Grandpa-Heeter-Steve-McQueen-space-alien-looking fuck fucking fucker? Girl, you know that shit is true!

Coping with an Unfinished Life

Friday, October 15, 2010

The BIG Box of Crayolas

When SB was a kid, my ass was such a brat, I would cry and throw a HOLY FUCKING FIT whenever I broke a crayon in the BIG box of Crayolas or whenever I was forced to sharpen one of those bitches. The uniformity was fucked up, people! This, we could not have. My ass watched Sesame Street--I knew that 1 bitch out of 52 DID NOT BELONG WITH THE OTHERS! You can't have that shit, motherfuckers! That shit is unacceptable.

Then, my Abuelita (Grandma for all you poorly educated fucks) or Grandpa would have to run to the Five & Dime store and buy my ass a WHOLE NEW BIG box of bright perfect Crayolas. Otherwise, THERE WAS HELL TO PAY!And I am NOT even kidding. Most of my family gave me what I wanted growing up rather than deal with my unholy raft of shit. SB was a damn handful.

Even as a child, I knew it was EAT OR BE EATEN, bitches. And I still think that.

Shit SB Says in Comments to My Idol Ms. Moon

Thanks for the book tips, but I think I only have enough mental faculties for Fluffy Kitten. Besides, I like to touch shit. That's how a bitch learns! I used to poke my fingers into the ground hamburger in the grocery store when I was a kid. The Moms once had to purchase a few packets of hamburger because some grouchy bitch caught me. The Moms was SO MAD!

I'm not linking to Ms. Moon, you bitches better have found your way over there by now!

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Is Anybody Else Tired of Hearing About the Fucking Arquette's Marriage Break Up?

Random question of the damn day. SB is personally sick to fucking shit of it. Must be a slow news week. I could give a fiddler's damn fart. Like we wouldn't have guessed that old girl didn't like to fuck. A bitch can tell that shit by the constipated look on her fucking face.

Next story news whores!

The Many Moods of Mercer

Okay, not the many--the ONE DAMN MOOD of Mercer--disdainful as fuck. She hates your ass. Get over it.

She is also a random biter. I dig that about her. When I get old, and my fat ass is in a nursing home, where some ungrateful family member (FUCK YOU IN ADVANCE, MOTHERFUCKER!) dumped me off, I may take up random biting myself.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Shit SB Says

I have no patience with this new-agey love everybody bullshit. When somebody starts talking that crap, I just roll my eyes and sigh. Occasionally, I just get up and walk out while the utopian motherfucker is still blathering on.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

A radical pessimist's guide to the next 10 years

I loved this, but then I'm a pessimist, who always believes everything CAN GET MUCH WORSE and maybe we ought to panic NOW, people.

Quote of the Damn Day: Annie Lennox

[On romantic love. . . .]

It's a fine thing if you can get it, but then if you're a person like me, it will take you to a place of anxiety, because it can never be sustained. We want it – but when we get it, it's terrifying because you could be hurt, abandoned, and it's actually a really risky place to be.

An Interesting Exchange About My Sears Post

Dear SB,

My name is Tammy and I work for the Sears Cares Escalations Team. I am sorry to hear that we have lost your family as customers. If there are unresolved issues we need to address, we would appreciate the opportunity to have one of our case managers work with you and/or any member of your family to address any concerns. We would also welcome any feedback you may have on improvements we can make. If you are willing to give us chance; please contact my office via email at . In the email, please provide a contact phone number and the screen name (SB) you used to post on this site.

Thank you,

Tammy W.
Senior Case Manager
Sears Cares

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Sarcastic Bastard replies...

Tammy W.,
Good try, but I'm not falling for that shit. SB was born at night, but not last night (not even the night before last!). SEARS EMPHATICALLY DOES NOT CARE.

Sarcastic Bastard
Senior Blogger
Sarcastic Bastard

p.s. What would my family do with the 60 years of animosity we directed at Sears? I shudder to think.

George Is Out of the Slam. SB Can Breathe Much Easier Now.

I am being serious for once. I adore George Michaels, as a dumb friend of mine once referred to him. I was REALLY bunged up about George being in the slam. I slept poorly. I didn't want to eat. [Okay, so I lied about that. I ALWAYS WANT TO EAT. Whatever. The point is I suffered, motherfuckers.]

Anyhoo, I am VERY RELIEVED George is out, even though the damn British tabs are already saying he's disappeared on his first night out of the pokey. None of your business, you fucking pack of wankers. LEAVE GEORGE ALONE!

I think George is THE GREATEST LIVING SINGER, bar none. I also think he's a damn genius. And also, his shit is danceable and he has a nice ass. BONUS!

Shit SB Says in Comments to Her Good Buddy, Swedz

I didn't know Canada had Thanksgiving. What are they thankful for? That they are not Americans? Okay, that works.

I Just Like the Damn Photo, Okay?

It had to be the 80s, mothahfuckas. SB had hair just like that bitch on the right. And mom (dad?) is just plain SCARY. Girl, you know that shit is true!

OOPS, I Had to Change the Title of that Last Post

Original Title: Ms. Moon on Fucking Bob Dylan

Ms. Moon did not fuck Bob Dylan. I guess that's how it might have read though.

Quote of the Damn Day: Ms. Moon on Bob Fucking Dylan

I couldn't understand a damn word he sang.

Entire post-concert review here:

Joe from the IT Department

When I was younger and working for TRW, I used to put A LOT of effort into the way I looked. I actually cared in those days, motherfuckers! I did my hair everysingledamnday and wore a lot of fancy makeup and shit.

Well, the week that I came back from my honeymoon to work, I was running EXTREMELY late one morning and made it to work with my hair looking somewhat akin to a bird's nest and with VERY LITTLE makeup on. This bitch was a damn fright fest, motherfuckers!

Anyhoo, I was sitting outside on break that morning, and my buddy Joe from the IT Department, plopped down next to me. He took one long look at me, sighed, and said: "Already letting ourselves go, are we? That happens after you get married."

My Family Is Here this Morning--Welcome Moon-Thigpens!

Yes, I am reading the tracker again.

Good morning, whichever Moon-Thigpen is here! I love y'all. Thanks for reading my shit!!!!!

Shit SB Says While Stranded at Sears, a Store My Entire Family DESPISES Heartily

[Said while waiting with the Viking for a damn optical appointment (for him--NOT me) in the vast optical department with 1-1/2 total employees. The guy at the glasses fitting booth, ironically, had trouble seeing, so it took him about an hour to enter the damn information for the sale in the computer. For this reason, said guy only counts as half an employee.]

SB to the Viking: I'm getting bored. I'm going to go check out the slutty lingerie.

[After returning about two minutes later.]

Their slutty lingerie sucks. That shit looks like something you'd see in the window at the 25 cent peep show downtown. My conclusion? Sears is for old ladies and dime store hookers.

Note to the motherfuckers who read my shit: My Uncle Gene hates the Sears (this is a whole other story for another day) to the extent that we used to buy him X-mas presents and put them in a Sears gift box, just to get him all worked up. I don't shop at Sears, because Gene HATES the Sears. It's a family loyalty thing. Lose one of us motherfuckers, lose us ALL! The really fun part is that the Viking worked for Sears for years. I can't wait to tell Gene this fact.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Only In Savannah

I hope Mr. Tracy wins his girl back. I find the end note on his sign, "p.s. I'm a DUMBASS," particularly winning.


Shit SB Says

Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.

Shit SB Says in Comments to Her Good Buddy, Jenn

October wouldn't be shit without black cat art! I love your choices. Also, I love black cats. I've had 3 so far.

Bella Puppini is my current black cat, and she is a damn pistol. Of course, this time of year, that bitch is on the down-low. People be wanting to steal her ass and use her in their evil Satanic ceremonies and shit.

Jenn is one of SB's first blogging buddies. Check out her fabulous Black Cat Art post, motherfuckers. Here is the link for all you lazy bitches. You know who you are!

Friday, October 8, 2010

More Shit SB Says to the Lovely Ms. Moon

You just like who you like. I've had that happen lots in my life. I also instantly DISLIKE a few people. The Moms always says: Some people will like you no matter what, and some people will dislike you no matter what. Who gives a shit? It all works out.

Shit SB Says in Blog Comments

Kids frighten me. I don't know what to say to them. I have to get very drunk on Halloween just to manage to pass out candy to the little costumed freaks. I was excited that last year, feeling tipsy, I finally bravely managed to mumble "Have fun!" to one of the bastards. You live, you grow.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

MORE Shit SB Says to Her Idol, Ms. Moon

That plot of garden looks mighty neat and tidy, and Mr. Moon did a fine job, but like you, I'm not neat and tidy. My ex used to get MAD because I have a method of mowing the lawn that is less than tidy. I called it: interpretive mowing. I enjoyed just pushing the mower around, wherever the spirit moved me. We wound up with some interesting patterns. Sometimes, it looked like some Aztec cave-drawing shit.

Shit SB Types to Her Idol of Fucking GREATNESS, Ms. Moon

I like it, too. I adore Yoko, always have. [In reference to a photo of Yoko and Gaga's dumb ass.]

I DESPISE Gaga though. She just fucking gags me. I saw her in an interview, and she has clearly been lobotomized or some shit. Maybe she's a damn space alien, like Jesus. [Daddums has a book entitled, "Why Jesus Was a Space Alien." I shit you not. I figure it makes about as much sense as anything else. And, actually, it would explain ONE HELL OF A LOT.]


p.s. If I have to poo, I always use the Daddums' bathroom, because he has such interesting reading material. It beats the Moms' Woman's Day crappola, hands down.

SB Is Alive, but Fucking Behind as Fuck Fucking Fuck

Thanks to all you motherfuckers who commented in the last handful of days. I missed two days of work this week and had a doctor's appointment this morning, so I am a bit behind with blogging (and A LOT behind on the paying job). A bitch must catch up the paying shit first.

Excuse my absence on your blogs this week, I will catch up when I am able.

Love to all my motherfuckers,


Friday, October 1, 2010

This Is Some Fucked Up Chagall-Like Shit Raht Here

There's that floating goat and shit in the famous Chagall painting--you remember (unless you're an ill-educated cretinous fuck)--but floating dogs and babies? Somebody done ripped Chagall's ass off! Oh well. Fucker's dead.


I'd Still Hit that Shit

Pierce is still my favorite James Bond. Hands down. Daniel Craig, my ass.

Maybe I can write the next Bond movie especially for Pierce. I shall entitle that shit: Diet Another Day. [I know that was corny as shit, but Ms. Moon says I'm a genius, so fuck you.]