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.]