I have decided on what one of the most annoying occurances in a woman’s life can possibly be.

I was at work and everything was coming up roses. I had an super great hair day. I even woke up early enough to slap on some war-paint. I had a box to pack up for a customer who is in a shit panic to get something done RIGHT NOW, after he had been advised a week ago that he needed to take action.

Whatever. Lack of planning on his dumb ass part, does not constitute a shit panic for me. None the less, I went ahead, as a good colleague would, and got his stuff put together for him and was putting the large part (a 50 pound instrument) into the box when I felt it…. SNAP! The underwire in my most favoritest bra gave out.

That kids, is annoying. My boob popped out of said bra into my shirt, making my the girls look all awkward and crooked. Needless to say, the bra came off and I wore my sweatshirt for the rest of the day.

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I made an attempt to be stealth like a ninja this weekend. I did, really. I waited for Big T to get up and go to work, acting totally and convincingly asleep. He was out the door and I jumped up to take a shower. I hi-jacked the truck and snuck all the way to Pigeon Forge to the Music Outlet.

I cried on the sales fella’s shoulder about how I had to have the camo Morgan Monroe guitar case, of which they only had one and was already half paid for by some psycho woman.

Being the spoiled brat I am, I tried to talk him into giving me that one and ordering her another one, but to no avail. Kids, I haggled this dude for 20 minutes before his son said, “Dad, I think there might be one upstairs in the storage room.”

The waters parted and the heavens opened when I saw the boy coming back down the stairs a mere 30 minutes later carrying the last one they would ever have.

I am such a good wife that I pay attention to all the stuff Big T says. And I specifically remember him making a mental note that he was going to go back and get that case one day. Check. I made a mental note too. I was sure it would get me a free pass for a wicked roll in the hay. Woo!

Anyhoo, I get home and try to get in the house before Big T can come help me in with the stuff. But, I didn’t make it. He was out the door before I could fart and run from it.

He asked obviously annoyed that I would have enough nerve to put something back there when he had specifically told me not to. “What’s that in the back of the seats? I thought I told you not to put anything back there, baby.”

“I know you did. It’s for Natalie (my kid) and it’s lightweight. I was afraid it would blow out of the bed if I put it back there.” I protested.

He rolled his eyes and said “Unlock the door, let’s get it out and take it in the house.”

What could I do. I handed him the key. Mind you, he’s had a hard-on for this particular item for a little over a year.

He pulls the box out and looks in it. I swear, I thought he was gonna cry. The look of horror on his face that he had found one of his Christmas presents.

Oh well, his bad. He ain’t gettin it until Christmas day. I’ll wrap that bitch up and put in under the tree anyway. He better act surprised and he better still give me some major league nookie.

So much for being a ninja.

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Taco Bell gets a stay of execution for now.

As promised to Ms. P, I went ahead forewent my diet in order to keep Taco Bell in business. I have had a burrito and large Diet Dew two days in a row. There is no need for anybody so sweet to die of hunger because of my vanity. What the hell was I thinkin anyway? Maybe that is why I broke bitch in like 1.3 seconds… maybe it wasn’t PMS… maybe it was lack of bean burritos with extra red sauce.

Thank you, Puddin, you saved me from myself.

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What is a school zone? A school zone is a place where flashing lights, crossing guards and cops all come together with one goal in mind… to slow folks down in order to avoid mowing down of any munchkins.

I respect the school zone and all of its components. However, some asshat in an SUV, who apparently woke up a little late, doesn’t.

I drive my kids to school every single day, as she is too much of a princess to ride the damn bus. Which is fine. I too was a princess. I take into consideration that I might just run into traffic in the school zones, and allow this into my alotted time for the AM commute. Generally I take it for what it is and am a mellow driver. I don’t suffer from road rage very often… until today. Today was the day I finally snapped.

Anyway, the forementioned asshat decided that he was in a hurry and as a result his SUV was raping my poor little car he was riding so close… like right up the tailpipe raping. Not like I could go anywhere any faster with the half mile of folks trying to do the same thing I was.

I didn’t think about my daughter (16) sitting next to me when I finally got pissed off. I rolled down the window and yelled back at him “If you’re gonna ride my ass, at least pull my hair, asshole!”

Ooops. Of course, my kid busted out laughing and looking back at him. He must’ve been humiliated cuz his boy was laughing his ass off as his dad yelled at him. Good. Back off and don’t ride other people’s bumper. It’s just consideration.

On August 18th, 24-year-old Tommy Salter decided to celebrate his college graduation at the Fort Walton Beach, FL strip club, Club 10. From all appearaces it was quite the party.

Tommy was in good spirits.

$53,000 worth of spirits (and club cash) to be exact.

As irresponsible children do, Tommy called American Express to cancel the charges. AmEx sided with the club.

Tommy then asked his father, Joe Salter, for help. However, instead of chastising young Tommy for irresponsibly spending $53,000 in a tawdry topless bar, the senior Salter assists in suing the strip club, and having them investigated for fraud and forgery, in addition to larceny.

Investigation showed that $39,000 in charges came after the 4AM last call, however, each of those receipts were signed, and itemized bills were initialed, by the younger Salter. His father, of course, says that those signatures and initials are just “scribbles,” and that since they were signed after last call, it proves that Club 10 was illegally selling alcohol after last call.

Any rational, thinking person would be skeptical of that. The club’s policy is that any bottle of champagne (priced between $150 and $2000) requires a separate receipt, and most people do pay at last call. However, even with that, the club has gone out of its way, even offering to refund those $39,000 in charges which came after 4AM.

I suppose it just hasn’t sunk in with dear ol’ dad that Tommy Boy was smashed and is trying his damndest to get out of paying his bills.

Can you say “Buyer’s Remorse,” boys and girls?

I knew you could.

No, no.  I know what you’re thinkin after that skanky blog from weeks gone by, but no.

Everybody has a thing about grabbing hold of and/or making pictures of my boobs.  Don’t ask me why.  I have no idea. Could it be that they are just so damn touchable, lets say like Charmin?  But God gave ‘em to me to put pretty bras on, so I do.  Then,  Zacque or Robyn or any number of other Pirate types, end up snapping pictures of them.

This is my birthday squeeze. 

Why I got molested here is way beyond me, as this was Niki’s birthday.

The Darkside double-dipped with me & Robyn.  The little perv.

The full on Pirate Grope.  Jeez.

Becky goin for the goods.  Heh.

Yup. Molested by Susan, too. Look at that face.  Tell me she didn’t like it!

Group boobie grabbin’!

Notice, I’m innocent. I’m always the grab-ee, not the grabber!

     “Hi, I’m Mark.  Can I borrow your breasts for a few hours?  I’ll give ‘em back….”
     *blank look*  “Are you serious?”
     “Unless you wanna let me hold ‘em for a while…”
     *laughter*  “If I could get rid of them for a few hours, I’d be so happy… I’m actually getting tired of carrying them around!”
     “So I can hold ‘em for a while?”  *grin*
     “Ready when you are…” *smile*

     Any questions? 

     Have a good weekend. 

     For a few months, I’ve been writing down some of the bizarre and humorous things that come out of peoples’ mouths.

     Back on November 10th, we’re sitting having a late lunch, and from out of nowhere, Zacque sits up in his chair, narrows his eyes to slits and monotonically mumbles:

Ahhh! Get your genitalia out of my eyes! I can’t see!

     On November 20th, I slammed the last portion of a beer sitting on the table, because you know, we can’t abuse the alcohol.  Susan quotably quipped:

Yeah, what’s a little backwash between friends?

     On November 30th, Zacque, Susan and I were sitting in the Old City when Niki walks in wearing a — form-fitting — red shirt.

Zacque: “Ya know, that’s a very nice shade of red.”

Me: “Yeah, I was gonna say, that is a very nice shade of nipple.”

Niki: “And they’re cold, too!”

Me, Susan & Zacque: “DUH!”

     Now, of course, there have been many, many more over the last few months, most of which are too rude to post here (I try and keep things semi-clean).  Hilarious, nonetheless…

     But this one today, from Lisa, takes the cake:

Stop cursing! I’m ovulating and it turns me on!

     Apparently, insanity runs in circles. 

     Considering I’m a Star Wars dork (but having a life and personality without making constant references to it like some people), a friend of my sent me a great link today (Les Jones site)…

     Further investigation revealed that there are approximately thirty Femtroopers in the world today, mostly in the United States (thanks to SithVixen for the scoop).
     Peter Hartlaub, at The San Francisco Bay Culture Blog, had a recent entry about the phenomenon.

This is perhaps the most celebratory development for horny Star Wars fans since Princess Leia became Jabba the Hutt’s barge ho.

I think these photos are really hot, but maybe that’s because I’ve seen “The Empire Strikes Back” at least 25 times and own a George Lucas action figure. While the armored hot pants and bare midriff are both nice touches, the contoured breast plate is definitely the sexiest/funniest part of the costume.

     Unfortunately, some people just don’t get it.  A comment on that site, written by someone known only as bagdorka, reads:

You know, I’m all for the armor… But, sorry to say, it’s not the real deal until they are sporting hairstyle-compatible demi-helms that cover their faces. The true star wars geek wants to hear it through the speakers, if you know what I’m saying. 

     *ahem*  Yeah, ok.  Taking this stuff a little too seriously?

     And TK5528 at the UK Garrison of the 501st Stormtrooper Legion seems to agree:

The “femtrooper thing” is strictly not permitted in the UK Garrison.

Besides, we in the UKG only do canon costumes in regards to Star Wars, and IMHO, femtroopers have very little to do with Star Wars.

     *cough*  And somehow spending seven hundred (or more) pounds for a Stormtrooper outfit, going to a London Convention Center and trying to drink Guinness and Whitbread through your helmet does have something to do with Star Wars…?

     Barry, a reader on the Les Jones site, had the following comment:

Well, it does inspire a new saying - “As useless as a codpiece on a femtrooper”

     *Ding!*  *Ding!* *Ding!*  Finally, we have a winner!  Nice one, Barry. 

     Les Jones writes:

Femtroopers - Feminine versions of Star Wars stormtroopers, the better to hookup at DragonCon with.
 .
 .
 .
Natural environment - the hotel and/or convention center

Favorite put-down - aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?

     I would venture to say they get plenty of dork-lines, as well, such as, ”Hey, baby, are those things real?”
     Then again, I can also imagine them waving their hand, and saying, “These are not the breasts you’re looking for.”

     I read this earlier today, and meant to blog it, but got busy and missed it.  This is News of the Weird type stuff:

JERUSALEM (Reuters) - An Israeli woman’s breast implants saved her life when she was wounded in a Hizbollah rocket attack during Israel’s war with the Lebanese group, a hospital spokesman said Tuesday.

Doctors found shrapnel embedded in the silicone implants, just inches from the 24-year-old’s heart.

“She was saved from death,” said a spokesman for Nahariya Hospital in northern Israel. The woman has been released from hospital

Source: Reuters

     Any jokes I could make about that are tasteless, so I digress.  And on that note…

     Like the Yoda Backpack mentioned last week, the t-shirt I found today is also geared towards women.

Our newest design, the These Aren’t the Breasts You’re Looking for t-shirts, harken back to the scene in Star Wars (Episode IV) when we see Obi-Wan Kenobi use the Jedi Mind Trick for the first time. (truly, it was the first indication of the force)How suave was old Ben Kenobi with his British accent, powerful eyes, and a little hand wave?  Who didn’t want to be him?

…

STAR WARS FANBOYS!  Don’t let nature stop you from having a good laugh.  Think about how much funnier this shirt is on you, with your man-breasts or your total lack of boobage.  You too can use the force (who knows…these t-shirts might even help you take home a Star Wars Fan Girl to meet your mom…JK!)

     Brilliant shirt.  As a matter of fact, I can think of one friend right away who’d love to wear one when she goes out, although, she’d never get that it was a Star Wars line.