You know, for the past decade, I kept thinking to myself “Damn. Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I thought it was only in my head because I am simply annoyed by how commercial Christmas has become.

I took note, back in August no less, that as soon as Wal-Mart took out the swimming pools and other summer items… in came the Christmas stuff. IN AUGUST! Before even halloween had time to come and go.

Pisses me off, the money-grubbing devil stores peddle as much as they can for as long as they can. And what really slays me is the fact that, everytime I’d pass through lawn & garden, even back in late summer, there were people buying that shit up. It wasn’t on sale, it was just out on display and for sale at regular prices.

Now I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want my house decorated with little elves and the like that early in the year. I’m the type that as soon as Christmas is over, I’m ready to jerk the ornaments down and sling the tree in the yard.

What I think should happen is, since the the stores have all the Christmas crap out that early, the Salvation Army should round up sexy bell ringers and have them out there in the heat of summer in a Santa-like underwear  made of red velvet with white trim and an excellent and yummy tan.  Then maybe I could swallow Christmas that early in the damn year.

Bah!  Friggin Humbug!

Yah.  I’m back home and totally enjoying the comforts of my OG and my happy little office.  It’s always nice to get to travel far and wide, but even nicer to come home… especially since I had only been married a scant week when I had to leave on that jetplane.  But that’s another story all together ain’t it?

So, OG and I have been known to have some pretty interesting conversations in the last 7 years that we have worked together.  No holds barred.  Really.  We talk about anything and everything.  Which brings me to what we are talking about here.

At lunch, we generally find some kind of magazine full of gossip or short, yet hilarious ditties.  The conversation turned interesting when I found a short article about an ape who doesn’t dig girl apes….  Read this… you’ll love it.

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - Sibu the Orangutan has miffed his Dutch keepers by refusing to mate with females and showing sexual interest only in tattooed human blondes.

Apenheul Primate Park hoped Sibu would become its breeding male when he arrived two years ago, but orangutans aren’t his type.

“He chases them, or ignores them, but he doesn’t do what he should do,” said a spokeswoman for the park.

Instead, Sibu fancies his female keepers, especially blondes. That, the spokeswoman said, was common for orangutans but Sibu has a fetish for tattoos, harking back to a heavily tattooed keeper who reared him.

“Orangutans have special interests in special subjects. Sibu happens to like tattoos,” she said.

So, this brought up the question of whether orangutans have a penis bone like most other mammals or if their penis gets hard like a human penis does.  Yah, I know what you must be thinking…  perfectly acceptable, lady-like lunchtime conversation.  So, we finished up our lunch and google’d it, as we google every sick and twisted thing we can think of.  And we found out that an orangutan does, in fact, have a penis bone.

OG has decided that I, being the blonde and tattoo’d chippie that I am, should stay the hell out of Amsterdam.

Just thought I’d share that tid-bit with you kids.  Cheers!

(Article Copyright 2007 Reuters)

     Back in the day, I was rather artistic — literature, art and music for the most part — but somewhere along the line, I realized that my form of Literature wasn’t for the masses.  The Art that I created could be sold or not based simply on how I named it.  My Music was destined to be devoured by greedy, leg-breaking asshats who’d make it unaffordable.  There was always a business angle to discourage me.

     A bit of cartooning proved to be humorous, but not socially acceptable.  Back in high school, my Art teacher looked upon those doodles with great disdain.  She’d often ban me from the class because she knew what I was going to draw before I’d finished the first few strokes.
     “I won’t have that filth in my classroom!” she’d scream.
     “It’s not filth, it’s…”
     “Get out, get out, GET OUT!”
     No amount of explaining could convince her otherwise.

     While it turned me away from Art for some time, it was all for the good.  Ingenuity became the outlet for my creativity, and I avoided the life of a starving artist.
     Besides, I still have the odd spurt of creativity that I can do something cool with.  *grin*

     So, Mrs. Cooper, this video’s for you. 

(Video: http://youtube.com/watch?v=apP29XeK1o4)

Tip: Bluepaintred - I’ll get back to my regular reads soon enough

Dear Sweet Holy Mother of Jesus. The things I hear come out of my teenage daughter’s domocile. My house was infested with her and her little teenage friends last night.

So, I’m painting last night in the hallway between my bedroom and hers when I here, “Oh my God, he’s raping her!”

Being somewhat alarmed that they were watching something questionable on the boob-tube, I put down my paint roller and wander in there to find out who’s raping who.
As it turns out, it was her latest acquisition of animal friend. Rats.

Not long ago, we lost our dear bearded lizzard to a firefly. Well, she didn’t waste any time finding a new pet. Actually, she got one, her boyfriend got one, her friend Jesse got one, her friend Cody got one, and Aaron got one.
They were supposed to reside at her Josh’s house. But, Monday night, here come the teenagers with this huge tank of rodent friends.
Not to mention that Amanda’s rat just gave birth to 9 babies, that will be full grown soon enough. I’ve already demanded that they be sold or released.

Turns out that one of the boy rats was horny as hell and he was chasing this girl rat around and around and around the cage. Apparently he got lucky for a split second and caught up with her. Which is who was raping who.

Other things I heard come out of that room last night whilst rolling paint on the walls:

- Damn, if that was me, I’d have done given up, lit me a cigarrette and counted my losses. (In reponse to the chase for ass)

- Well, those two ate him because he had a big package and they were sick of it. (In response to why the one albino rat was missing).

So, after the boy’s football game Friday night, I’m tired and I feel just nasty. I was full of Italian Ice, as I had engulfed like 5 during the game trying to cool of. I’d had sweat running from my neck, down my back, directly down my butt crack. 

That, my friends, is not a nice feeling.

Even with feeling grody and tired, I still hoped to go home and get a little lovin’ after a nice cold shower. Know what I mean? I think ya do.

But, no. 

Why is it that I can never seem to get rid of both of teen-aged-mutants at the same time? 

Amanda, my girl, was spending the weekend at Jessie’s (the child that claims me as her other mother).  But, the boy couldn’t stand it; he had to stay home.  Worse yet, he had to stay awake.  So, we get home, I go take a shower and I go to bed…. to sleep.

Hell if I didn’t wake up early, before the boy.  So, I poke Anthony and told him wake up and GET ‘R DUN!!! 

Door was closed and I was under the blanket.  I got too hot, so I go and throw/kick/pitch/toss the blanket in the floor.

Well, Anthony’s cell phone was in the livingroom.  His phone rang.  Matthew decided to answer it.  Matthew decided that he would just bust into MY bedroom to tell his dad that Mario was on the phone. 

BUSTED!

Sweet Jesus.  Now up until that point in life, I don’t believe anything has ever both made me absolutely furious and at the same time nearly given me a heart attack.

This non-knocking problem we are having is getting a little bit on my nerves.
Admittedly, I am most likely the most sexually natured person I know. I dig it.  I want it.  I just can’t help it. 

But even my horns are nipped in the bud, knowing that kid is in the house lurking.  There have been numerous times I’ve just decided to forego play time just because I’d hate to think about anybody else in the house knowing.

GRRR!!!!  Can we say frustrated???

I mean, I swear, I think he has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing if and when we may be even considering having sex.  It’s like he goes that extra mile to keep trying to drive a wedge of any kind between me and Anthony.

Makes me nervous to have anything in my room, let alone my happy drawer.

Then this happened:

So, I get started to get over getting busted by the boy.  And I go outside to start working on the cleaning out of the shed.  This shed is barely a shanty.  It is missing the bottom boards on the walls, so it’s wide open to anything and everything that wants in.

Ok, now there is a reason that shed was in the shape it was in.  I don’t dig going in it and flat refused to go in it for three years.  Not to mention the fact that I’d seen various critters and rodents zipping in and out of there.  *shiver*. 

But, the time had come.  We have a week to be getting all of my crap up and out of the house, which means the shed had to be cleaned too.  I get the broom, the hair spray and my lighter and head out back where the shed stands. 

I stand outside, looking to see what sort of arachnid may be lurking up above my head or down below my feet.  Ewwww!  Dark, scary and spider infested.

So, I finally take the broom, poke it inside the shed and start swingin like a wild woman at whatever might be in my path.  When I didn’t feel that was enough, I took the hairspray and lighter and started blow torching anything that appeared to be an insect of any sort.  The smell of sizzling spiderwebs is a lovely one.

My spider problem apparently taken care of, I forged ahead.  Looking at the piles of shit that were tossed into this shed nearly three years ago when I moved into the house, I decided that if it had been there for damn near three years and not missed, that it wasn’t ever going to be missed.  Rahter than digging through the boxes, I hauled them right out to the bed of the truck.  Locked and loaded for the Knox County dump.

I had gotten most of the crap out, when I thought I heard something.  It was a rustling around sound.  I stopped and assessed what it might be.  I didn’t see anything.  So, I turned around to get another box and IT ran over my foot. 

Well, I’ll swear I thought it was a two-foot rat.  After nearly having the second heart attack of the day and hearing IT run into a window thinking it was a way out of the shed, I saw it.  A baby rabbit.

Still when I’m confined in an icky space where I’m already paranoid, I don’t even want the cutest of furry woodland creatures hippity-hopping over my foot.

“When spies get fired, they don’t get a letter from human resources. They get BURNED… “

Now I’m not so sure about getting burned, but Jeffrey Donovan as Michael on BURN NOTICE give me hot sweats.   I’m honestly not sure what it is about dearest Jeffrey that does it for me.  Maybe its that smile.  Maybe it’s his insatiable wit.  Maybe it’s his handling of Fiona (romantic interest on the show). 

Maybe it’s the fact that he is shirtless a lot of the time…

Whatever it is, he DOES do it for me.

Here’s to you Jeffrey.  You make me weak in the knees, my friend.

Good God, I need another cold shower…

     Since Diva hasn’t done a Hottie of the Day/Week/Moment post in a while, I thought I’d take a stab at it…

     Admit it… You know The Bangles song, “Walk Like an Egyptian.”  And if you were male, you have to admit that when you saw the video, you went, “Oh, man, she is hot!”

     Now, I’m sort of a connoisseur of beautiful women.  I see beautiful women everywhere.  I have interesting conversations with beautiful women.  I have fun with beautiful women.  I date beautiful women.  I even marry some of them.
     I have a quirky sense of “beauty,” tho.  I tend to see women four dimensionally… I can look at how they look now, pick them out of the crowd in their elementary school photos, and know what they’ll look like as they get older…
     It’s a neat party trick, and it’s always surprising to see someone who’s gorgeous from day one to day zero… Most people go through the ugly duckling phase at least once in their lives.

     As for this particular 5′2″ hottie, here we are some twenty-one years later, and yep, she could still start a fire… at an incredibly young 48.  
     Yep… for real!  
     The sultry siren turned 48 in January… And if that’s not worthy of recognition, I dunno what is…

     But, I have to admit… That music still makes me throw up in my mouth a little…

Photo 1 courtesy of VH1.
Photo 2 23-Oct-2006 by Jessee Grant, Copyright © WireImage.com.

     Well, last Tuesday afternoon, I felt really, really tired all of a sudden.  Zacque and I hit Barley’s for a burger and a beer, and by the end of that late lunch, I felt like I was ready to fall over dead.  I came home, and fell asleep until Wednesday.
     Wednesday, I felt like hammered Hell.  My throat was on fire, swollen, and no amount of anything would make it feel better.  Zacque drug me out to Sitar for an Indian feast, which made me feel quite a bit better that night…
     Unfortunately, by Thursday night, I required medical attention for a skyrocketing fever and an inability to swallow.

     Yep … Strep throat.  Bad.

     On Friday, my personal hotti—err, nurse, rather — showed up to assist me with the healing process.  On Saturday night, she looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Well, I may be a Kentucky Wildcat, but you’re always a Volunteer!” *melt!*
     Mmmhmm… So I was repeatedly mauled by said Kentucky Wildcat, but she took it a little easier on me than the last few weekends.  Resulting injuries were minor, and can only be described as an attempted suffocation followed by a near drowning.  *cough*  I mean, hey, who needs nose cartilage, anyway, right?  *cough*

     Anyway … *cough* Ahem! … she fixed me up as best she could, kept me hydrated, fed me well, made sure I slept (*snicker*), oversaw my medication (Advil & Penicillin), and took very good care of me… Right down to the point this morning where I hacked out a mass of infection from between my tonsils and adenoids that was damn near the size of a friggin’ marble… I mean, OMFG, no wonder my throat was hurting so bad!

     And so, in feeling a little better, and the fact that we both had lives that we needed to get back to, I was really heartbroken to see her leave today… :-(  *snif*

     And still, I slept some more…

     So, hopefully, over the next couple of days, I’ll get back into the swing of things.

     I don’t get sick often — discounting the maybe-once-a-year sinus issue or something — but when I do, I get damn sick.  And it’s almost always some kinda funky-ass, in-the-wild bacteria, which is probably a good reason for me to stop hanging out in the woods, eating raw meat and wild produce, washing it down with water from mountain streams… but…
     I’ve done it all my life, ya know?

I’m not immoral.  I’m not just not ashamed to admit that I am human and that I possess human wants, needs and desires.  Just like everyone else.  Even after reading and re-reading and re-reading again my post about Lust, I’ll still stand by my honesty.  Be careful before you cast stones.

Today I’ll admit to my gluttonous nature.  Gluttony, as defined by dictionary.com, is excessive eating and drinking.  From all of the various definitions out there, I’m taking it to mean any habit in which one has no control over.  Whether it be food, alcohol, illicit drugs, ciggies, sex… whatever.  You know it, I’ve got them all covered.

Admittedly, I am a total fan of Taco Hell.  When Diva went on a diet last year and cut all fast food out of the diet, Taco Hell took a major hit and their stock dropped immediately.  Yes, I am a serious Taco Hell glutton.  No mas.  No mas.  I am a burritoholic.  My willpower sucks.  Gluttony at its finest.  Too bad there isn’t a Del Taco in Tennesse.  It would really be on then.

However, also encapsulated within the definition is excessive drinking.  BINGO.  That would be me again.  I admit, I partake of my fair share of intoxicating beverages.  I’m a hard working, professional in the biomedical equipment business all week long, with the exception of the occassional Wednesday outing.

MMMMMM….. beer!

On Friday night, I tend to dive to the bottom of the Michelob Light (and more recently Mich Ultra Amber) and take an evening long swim. 

Maybe it will get me elected to public office one day.  At least nobody could dig any bones out of my closet.  They’ve already been exposed.

Women are catty.  Especially toward each other.  Especially when one woman has performed an act of woman on woman betrayal.  It is not something taken lightly and is most likely not to be forgiven. 

Over the last several years, I have emerged from spending most of my time locked in the house and being a slave to my life, kids, ex-husband… blah, blah, blah.    I was a young 17 when I married my first husband and didn’t experience the “meat market” type bar scene in which women are all in competition with one another to take some schmo home.  Pu-leaze. 

Then I toddled into life as a single, grown woman.  It was never my intention to pick up on any dude at all.  We (the Pirates) were always out, and if you saw one, the rest weren’t too far behind.  We generally were out together, as a group, on Wednesday and Friday for close to a year.   During that year I witnessed several acts of sluttiness on various levels and even fell victim once to a chick chasing my fella.  Of course, this chick (as it turns out) has extremely low self esteem and chases anything with a penis.

Even though I’m not single anymore and I have no desire to go back to yesterdrama… Damn if I don’t hold a helluva grudge toward someone in particular that recently not so directly crossed my path.  She was just in the area.  The fur on the back of my neck stood up and my claws came out and if I’m not mistaken, I think I even hissed a few times.  And they wanted me to come out and have a drink in the same bat bar at the same bat time??  Um.  No.  I’ll stay home and watch Burn Notice, thanks!

Expressing interest in a man that another woman has already expressed interest in is a huge no-no.  Even if you are sadly repugnant and shameless.  Wouldn’t you rather keep your girlfriend  (who you know will be there for you for life) than to stab her in the back in order to have a one night fling with a man who is going to talk down about you to his friends and other lovers who know about you?

Kissing another girl’s man when she goes to the bathroom is also a big no-no.  Seriously.  Do you think that his girl isn’t going to find out that you waited until she got up and excused herself from the table, before you not-so-eloquently shoved your tongue down his throat?  If the girl has any real friends, they will tell her about your skanky ways as soon as she gets back to the table.  In general, you will have lost a friend (maybe several) as well as becoming a laughing stock.  (I witnessed this scenario last spring… since I wasn’t involved, it was actually quite amusing).